#anyway women should kiss and also kill more that's my conclusion

[carbonateddelusion]

we always need more lesbians in any kind of fandom ever. JUST saying

[oreoambitions]

46 for agentreign please

Anon I'm sorry this took me a thousand years, but here you go. This gets wildly NSFW after the cut. Enjoy!

/// The first time it happens, Alex figures it's a fluke.

There are, after all, extenuating circumstances. She's not sure how many glasses of wine she's had because every time she turns around Sam has topped her off again, and maybe she should stop indulging but the wine is good and the company is better and this is the first day off off she's had for so long that it's hard not to let go a little. Kara's been keeping the showtunes coming all afternoon, a little louder than her old bluetooth speaker can really handle but it doesn't matter because Spotify is really just an excuse for Kara and Sam to sing at the top of their lungs. Alex is not participating, but she is appreciating. Appreciating because it's nice to see her sister laugh and smile like maybe things are getting better and maybe things are going to be okay. And also appreciating because, well, Sam. It's hard not to appreciate anything and everything Sam.

The activity of the afternoon is ostensibly the production of baked goods for a fundraiser related to Ruby's soccer team. Alex says 'ostensibly' because the reality is that it's been more than three hours and they haven't gotten the first batch of cookies into the oven yet. There's flour all over the floor, and she's pretty sure Kara got butter stuck to ceiling before Sam took the mixer away, but sometimes that's just the cost of a slightly raucous afternoon well spent, isn't it? And they'll have it all done in time anyway. In fact, Sam is just now finishing up the first batch of cookie dough in the confiscated kitchen aid when Alex, perhaps inebriated or perhaps just feeling emboldened by the domestic comfort of the whole affair, lunges for the beater.

This, it turns out, is either a mistake or the best decision she's ever made in her life. Her hand does contact the beater. She does come within a few seconds of pure raw cookie dough bliss. But Sam is faster, and in a flash Alex finds herself pinned between the counter and Sam's hips, one wrist wrapped up in Sam's fingers, the beater now soundly out of reach in Sam's other hand.

"Mine," Sam growls, but her eyes have dropped to Alex's mouth and for one disorienting moment Alex thinks she might be about to kiss her, thinks maybe the word 'mine' has nothing to do with the beater at all, that maybe they've crossed into some alternate dimension where there's a future for her and Sam that doesn't involve a lot of politely smiling and politely never mentioning one another's romantic entanglements or the absence thereof.

And the thing is, Alex thinks to herself, contemplating the heat of Sam's gaze and the fact that she literally cannot move beneath Sam's hips, this is... attractive. This is very attractive, in an immediate and throbbing sort of way that would be frankly embarrassing approximately half a glass of wine earlier in the afternoon. But that can't be right, because Alex doesn't like to be pushed around. Alex is the one who does the pushing. Isn't she? Sam's grip tightens around her wrist and Alex's lips part of their own accord and-

"Oh for heaven's sake," Kara says, snatching the beater out of Sam's hand. "It's mine, because you two are both being ridiculous." She rolls her eyes. "I hate being the only adult in the room."

It was a fluke. That's what Alex thinks to herself later that night when she wakes with a start from a just-dozing-off dream featuring the immovable nature of Sam's hips. They were drinking and it was a long afternoon and everyone was a little wound up and a little giddy and Alex has been single for a long time. That's it. That's all it was. That's all it has to be.

///

It's harder to write it off as a fluke the second time, but she manages.

James is in town and so it's game night. Not their monthly game night as scheduled, but an extra at-the-last-second game night, and Alex is on call. Which is fine. She can count on her fingers the number of times she's had to handle something in the middle of the night while on call for the DEO, and she's not particularly worried. But it's a problem because she can't be drinking, which means she's sober when Sam corners her in the kitchen.

It's been a long night. Not in a bad way. Just in the sense that things have been a little more risque than usual, what with Nia falling over herself trying to make it clear to Brainy that she'd like to sleep with him without actually making it clear, and Lena shooting those long smoldering looks at a characteristically oblivious Kara, and then there's Sam. Alex can't stop looking at Sam in that shirt where it sits a little too tight across the shoulders, can't stop tracing the line of that necklace to the place where it disappears just below her collar, can't stop following the meaningless movement of her fingers as she absently fiddles with a beer that wouldn't have an effect on her even if she drank the whole case. She wonders idly if it's for the aesthetic or if Sam just likes the taste of a craft IPA.

The trouble is that every time Alex catches herself looking at Sam, she also catches Sam looking at her. And so, upon dragging her eyes up once more from Sam's fingers to find Sam staring back at her, eyes dark and expression unreadable, Alex decides it's time for a drink after all. One beer won't hurt, even if the world decides to consider coming to an abrupt conclusion in the next hour or so and it turns out to be her responsibility. It's just that her mouth is suddenly dry, and the room is suddenly too loud, and she needs something to roll between her fingers the way Sam is rolling that IPA back and forth and back and forth and- Yeah. Just one beer will be fine.

She slips into the kitchen while Nia is yelling about how they should all do a TikTok together. It's quieter here, and a cool breeze through the window over the sink raises goosebumps across her arms. She pops the fridge open, pulls a beer at random, leans up against the counter. Maybe she doesn't want a drink after all. Maybe she just needs a minute.

"Aren't you on call, Ms. Danvers?"

Sam. Alex pouts. "What are you, the party police?"

Sam steps up close, takes the beer from Alex without so much as looking at it. "Aren't you the alien invader police?"

That's a dumb line and it doesn't remotely reflect Alex's actual job description, but she laughs anyway. "It's just one beer. Like 4%. I can handle it."

"I know," Sam murmurs.

Alex thinks she's forgotten how to breathe. Sam's eyes are on her mouth and those hips are pressing into her again and when Sam slips one arm around her waist and one hand into her hair a sound comes out of her that might have been a whimper. There's an inevitability to the way Sam leans in, to the way Alex's lips part as Sam tilts her head back with a firm tug. There's a moment of hesitation, a lingering, an opportunity to say no. Instead, Alex whispers, "Please."

Sam obliges. She kisses her slow, languid almost, holds her firm against the counter as she licks into her mouth and Alex is thinking that maybe she's going to come right here just letting Sam kiss her like this when Sam presses a thigh between her legs and she gasps, grinds down hard without meaning to.

Sam chuckles into her mouth, drags one hand around to her throat, traces feather light kisses along her jaw, tugs on her earlobe with her teeth. "Good girl," she whispers.

Alex isn't sure if it's the heat of Sam's breath, or the praise, or the way she's been casually immobilized, but she shudders, and Sam chuckles again, lips against her ear, and that only makes it worse.

"Fuck," Sam says. "If I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here."

Alex is pretty sure that would kill her. She's pretty sure just the thought of it is going to kill her. Just the pad of Sam's thumb dragging across her throat as she kisses her again, just the roll of those hips, that thigh pressing hard into her, that deep ache coiling tighter as Sam pulls back just far enough to meet her eyes and-

"Hey, Nia wants- Oh!" Lena stops short just inside the kitchen door. "I'll just." She plucks a bottle of wine from the counter. "Take this and tell her that you've uhm. That you're busy."

"We'll be right there," Sam says. She straightens Alex's shirt with a tug and a smirk. "Wouldn't want to miss the TikTok dance."

"Nope," Alex chokes out. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

It's a fluke. Alex takes a long shower when she gets home, and she takes care of the lingering ache that's now outlived not one but two TikTok dances, and she thinks about texting Sam. She falls asleep with her phone in her hand and if she has dreams about a tall, handsome, strong woman railing her against a kitchen counter, well. That happens sometimes. Could happen to anyone. Doesn't mean anything except that Alex has been single for probably too long . She downloads Hinge in the morning and considers explicitly mentioning in her bio that she's the one who wears the strap.

///

The Hinge profile lasts about three days. Alex scrolls through a ridiculous number of women, all of whom are... fine, before she comes to the conclusion that the problem is that none of them are Sam. She's sitting on this stupid app pedaling her stupid profile and all she wants is the woman whose attention prompted her to download a dating app in the first place. And she can't want Sam because it would never work. They're fundamentally incompatible. This bedroom ain't big enough for two tops. It's not going to happen.

But the words if I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here are as stuck in Alex's head as that Lady Gaga song Brainy won't stop playing over the speakers at the DEO. She can't stop thinking about it. Picturing it, even. Dreaming about it when her mind should be anywhere else, on anything else. And she'd just avoid Sam, just look the other way until her hormones sort themselves out, except that Sam is virtually impossible to avoid.

Kara doesn't make it any easier when she calls on Friday night to ask her about a movie night at Sam's apartment.

"Ruby's on a school trip, so it'll be just the four of us," Kara says over the phone. "I'll bring snacks, and we can order whatever you want for dinner. Please? Lena's never seen Star Wars; we have to do something."

Alex doesn't know how to say no. No, I won't come to what feels suspiciously like a double date movie night at Sam's apartment, because Sam's strap is at Sam's apartment, and I'm not sure that she isn't going to try to fuck me on the bathroom floor, and furthermore, I'm not sure that I don't want her to. Instead she says, "Any Star Wars? That's a crime. Which movie are we starting with?"

It's probably a safe bet anyway. Kara and Lena will be there the whole time; Alex and Sam will never be alone. All Alex has to do is make sure that she leaves when everyone else does and they can avoid the awkwardness altogether, and no that is definitely not anticipation she's feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she certainly does not spend an extra half an hour in bed on Saturday morning keeping herself busy with the thought of offering to stay and help clean up, of finding herself pinned against the refrigerator door while Sam takes her from behind. That absolutely does not happen because that would be ridiculous, undignified, untoplike behavior.

Alex is certainly feeling ridiculous, undignified, and untoplike standing outside Sam's door that evening, anxiously smoothing out her shirt with one hand, a case of that IPA from game night in the other. She's arrived a carefully calculated fifteen minutes late just to be absolutely sure Kara and Lena will get here first, but she didn't spot Kara's car outside, and so she isn't particularly surprised when Sam opens the door with a warm smile and welcomes her into an empty apartment.

"Kara and Lena?" she asks as Sam takes the proffered beer.

"Lena got held up at the office," Sam replies, already disappearing into the kitchen. "They're running late. An hour or so. Told them we'd wait. Do you prefer an IPA or a lager? I don't have any stouts in the fridge right now. Might be a decent sour in here somewhere."

Alex lingers in the entryway, that not-anticipation feeling thrumming through her veins. She could follow Sam to the kitchen. Kitchens do seem to be their Thing. But Sam returns with two lagers, her question unanswered, and nods her head towards the living room.

Well, now they're alone together after all and Alex is feeling awkward. She settles onto one end of the couch and tries not to read into it when Sam deposits the lagers on the coffee table and settles in next to her, legs folded under her, almost too close, instead of occupying the perfectly good cushion on the other end.

"Sam," Alex tries. They should talk about this. "We should talk about this."

"Hmm." A hint of a smirk flickers across soft lips before Sam schools her expression. "Talk about what, exactly?"

If Alex had bothered to rehearse this conversation in her mind, she still wouldn't have imagined it going this way. Her eyes drop to Sam's mouth and then she struggles to look elsewhere. The records on the shelf under the window. The blank television screen.

"I-" she starts, but the words don't want to come out. The lager on the coffee table. She doesn't reach for it. "I can't stop thinking about game night," she forces out, and then she looks back up at Sam to gauge her reaction.

Sam is smirking openly now, a hint of laughter in her eyes. She reaches out to tangle long fingers in the hair at Alex's nape, the same grip she used to pull her into a kiss just last week, and Alex's arousal is embarrassingly immediate. "Really?" Sam asks. "Game night, huh? You want to know what I can't stop thinking about?"

It's Alex's gaze that drops first, to Sam's mouth again, and this time she can't look away. "What?"

"Tonight," Sam replies, close enough that Alex's eyes flutter closed, close enough that she can almost feel Sam's answer on her lips. There's probably a coy response for this somewhere in the lesbian handbook but Alex is reaching and coming up empty. She presses a soft kiss to Sam's mouth instead and feels that anticipation - there's no denying now that it's anticipation - thrum again when Sam's tongue immediately presses into her, hot and demanding.

"What's so special about tonight," Alex mumbles as Sam kisses along her jaw to her neck.

"Mmm." Sam nips hard against Alex's pulse point, smiles into her skin when she gasps. "Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"Take your shirt off."

Alex hesitates. That isn't remotely the answer to her question, but now Sam is sucking on her neck and her capacity for rational thought is rapidly diminishing. She fumbles with the first shirt button, fingers trembling, and then the second. Three undone is enough for Sam to pull the offending garment over her head. The sports bra follows, and then Sam is tugging on Alex's hips to reposition her so that she's lying back on the couch, and Alex suddenly understands what everyone finds so attractive about kryptonians, because it's effortless the way Sam moves her. She has about a half second to be transfixed by the abs peeking out from under Sam's own blouse before Sam is kissing down her collarbone and over her breast, chuckling when Alex's hips jerk underneath her.

"You know," Sam says, "I was expecting more of a fight out of Alex But-I'm-A-Top Danvers."

Alex opens her mouth to let out a retort but Sam's tongue is working a circle around her nipple and rational thought is once again threatening to fail. "Is that what you want?" She manages, struggling to sit up. "You want a fight?"

"No." Sam pushes her back again, pins her arms over her head with one hand, brushes the fingers of the other across her ribs, frowns. "No, I like you better like this."

Alex flushes and has to remind herself not to squirm, not to look away as Sam studies her in silence, drops kisses across her shoulders, traces the lines of her hip and the inside of her thigh. And then Sam reaches under the couch for a box, the implications of which are momentarily as immobilizing as the hand still holding Alex's wrists down, because Sam planned for this, planned far enough in advance to stash supplies where they might be convenient.

Alex swallows hard when Sam's pants exit the scenario, and Sam's eyes flicker over her face as she opens the box.

"How do you feel about being strapped on the couch?" she asks.

It's such a blunt question that Alex flushes again. "Uhm. Okay?"

Sam stops with her harness halfway out. "Just okay? I'm gonna need a clear yes or-"

"Yes. God. Yes please," Alex says, flushing an even darker shade. She's going to let... this... happen, but she's not going to beg. Christ. Consent granted; please let's move on before things get awkward. Sam chuckles a little at her discomfort and presses a kiss to her brow.

"Okay. But if you want me to stop you just say the word."

Alex nods, not trusting herself to speak, eyeing Sam's fingers where they're tightening the harness. And then all at once she blurts out, "Kara and Lena could be here at any moment," which she hadn't realized might be a concern until it came out of her mouth but now she can't stop thinking about it, and how embarrassing that would be, and Kara can see through walls for heaven's sake, and-

Sam chuckles. "Baby," she says, sliding herself between Alex's legs, "You're not going to last long enough to be worried about that."

Sam is embarrassingly, excruciatingly not wrong. By the time the strap is working into her Alex is pretty sure she's wound tighter than she's ever been, and she'd crack some kind of joke about how it's clearly been too long since she's had anyone inside of her but this is really not the time. Sam is pressing inexorably deeper and it's all she can do to hold her breath because otherwise she's going to come altogether undone before they've even gotten started.

Sam gives her a moment when she's all inside, waits for Alex to exhale, waits for her nod before she starts to rock her hips, and the drag of the strap is so intense that Alex loses her breath and her self control in the same instant with a groan that only deepens Sam's smirk. Alex is kind of wishing Sam would give her back the use of her hands, but that's not in the cards. She squirms instead, hips bucking of their own accord, head thrown back hard against the cushion of the couch.

"Thought about this every night," Sam murmurs, and Alex thinks she'll say since game night but she says, "Since the day I met you," which is almost as mindblowing as the pleasure somehow, incredibly, continuing to build between Alex's hips. "Thought about how good you'd be under me."

Alex shivers at that and then comes, bucking hard into Sam to take as much of the strap as she can, half aware of Sam whispering something in her ear that might have been what a good girl you are if Alex had been cognizant enough to comprehend it. She comes back down to soft kisses across her face, and when Sam lets go of her wrists she wraps her arms around her and tries to remember how to breathe, how to pull all the pieces of herself back together, how to be a competent and capable, dignified and toplike partner.

Alex runs a hand absently through Sam's hair and hums. "Do you want me to return the favor?" she asks. She doesn't have a strap with her but, well, it's not like that was ever the best trick up her sleeve anyway. She opens her mouth to make a quip about how a good top is always prepared but Sam reaches out and casually tips an untouched lager onto her discarded shirt.

Alex splutters.

"Too late," Sam says brightly. "You'll have to ask me after dinner. Lena and Kara are here."

"Lena and Kara are what-"

And there's the knock at the door. The door not ten paces from where Alex is lying in a state of naked disarray on the couch where they are supposed to be watching Star Wars. There is a moment of absolute stillness before Alex begins to scramble for her clothes.

"Bedroom is the second door on the left," Sam says, sneaking in a last kiss while Alex reaches for the underpants peeking out from under the coffee table. "Clean shirts in closet. Do pick something nice; I've been dying to see you in my clothes."

Alex scurries down the hall in her socks quietly cursing and thanking every star in the sky. It's going to be a long night. If she's lucky.

[ackerpreach]

This ending .... I can name 500 reasons and I will name them right now, because I don’t think I’m the only one who is upset with how things turned out. (Also, A positive message for all of you at the end)

MAJOR LEAKS SPOILERS/ READ WITH CAUTION

Update: after reading more theories from fellow RM bloggers, and sleeping over it one day, this entire chapter might be an april fools... Don't fully lose hope yet beautiful people. It's me just giving a review on a possible fake April fools chapter

After following this franchise since 2013, so nearly a DECADE. this ending is a pure disserve to the entire fandom. I feel like Yams has rushed it just for the sake of being done with the entire manga. So many things are left open, characters and their developemt are reverted back all the way to chapter 1 or are left even worse than that...

Mikasa’s worthless character development/ Aaronmika’s horrible toxic codependent relationship 

Oh honey... Let’s start with how horrible Isayama has treated her. We were all rooting for her, because we all felt like she was so misunderstood. She had a horrible childhood and imprinted on a guy who treated her like trash 99 percent of the story. And then, slowly but surely, she starts to realize she has to stop obsessing over him in the uprising arc with the help of a real man who treats her like a queen, more importantly, he treats her like a real human being. This man sees her for her abilities and that she has the power to be self dependent. She learned parts of herself, that she was able to work together with him like no one else could.  She learned parts of herself she was unable to do so if she kept obsessing about Aaron. All this love, care, mutual understanding and RESPECT these two shared. 

but...NAH FUCK THAT, right Yams?? Throw all this development away, all this bonding. Let’s make the main female lead even more yandere than she already was in the first season. Let her make out with his decapacitated head (like dude, this is also pure disrespect to Aaron’s dead body btw) and let her obsess even more about the guy who has treated her no better than a piece of toilet cloth 99 percent of the time. The guy who was never really appreciative in front of her for saving his ass billions of times, who always pushed her away, who yells at her and snaps at her whenever he can instead of reasoning and talking calmly with her in mature way. (EVEN PARODY YOUTUBE CHANNELS WHO DONT SHIP ANYTHING MAKE IT A TROPE WHERE AARON TELLS MIKASA HE HATES HER GUTS WHENEVER HE CAN) 

Then after all that, suddenly Yams tries to last minute persuade us Aaron’s always been head over heels for her???  He should have build their relationship better which he hasn’t even tried to do so... He must be thinking his fans are stupid for eating this from his hands.    

Like seriously??? What is this??? 

Isayama is just fully contradicting himself. It’s like someone tipped him off with a buttload of money for him to write Aaron like this to satisfy shipping needs and to cash in those extra money’s from it. Even if he tried to cater to Erem*ika, this is not how you write a loving and caring couple which people will root for. 

This next two panels just freaking infuriates me to the core of my soul. I can’t even describe how dissapointed I am with Mikasa. 

Why is she clutching that head so obsessively like that?  Why is she walking and turning her back away from her comrades? After everything they have done for her, after all they’ve been through?! After everything Armin has done? Standing up for Mikasa, beating up Aaron for hurting her. I feel like even Jean, Connie and Sasha have cared more for her in a healthy way.  Sure, Aaron cares for her romantically too apparently (What a twist Yams :)), but has he aided her to becoming a mentally healthier individual? Has he aided in her mental stability? The answer is a big fat NO!  All I see between these two after today’s raw Chapter’s are too Yandere obsessed individuals who have no clue on how to maintain a healthy relationship. 

Love should only go as far as the heart can endure and it seems like her character is not willing to be aware of that. Even Armin was able to let go of Aaron in those latest panels. Why does her entire character resolve around this guy??? I really do not understand. Her Ackerbond and her age is not an excuse for her to throw her life away like this. 

Shonen’s disgusting portrayal of women 

I’ve seen this countless of times in the many years I’ve watched anime. SasuS*ku from Naruto, Ichih*me from Bleach, Shinji and that oranged hair girl from Neon Evangelion.. Why do these women get decreased to simpletons with one single goal? And that is to obsess over a bland male lead who either treats them like trash or doesn’t notice them up until the last last chapter (LITERALLY WHAT YAMS HAS DONE). Some go even as far as the male leading wanting the kill the female love interest and yet the female lead is still in love with them???. It’s disgusting for him to write the MAIN female character this way. 

It’s dissapointing we believed in Isayama doing Mikasa’s character right. That she’s finally being able to let go of her codependency and to live for herself maybe live in Hizuru and find more about her roots???, but every single time she shows some improvement, it’s burried deep in the ground again by the Author. It almost seems like a lowkey kink of some of the male Mangaka’s to write about a girl obsessing over them no matter what. I see this so many times to the point that I truly stand behind it that some of them might have this fantasy. 

I wished he didn’t portray her last panels like this. Everyone else is living their lives while Mikasa is still grieving about him. I’m not saying she’s not allowed to grieve and everyone takes it at their own pace, but cmon... Show her living her life too. This is too much. Her being next to his grave and grieving him as her last panels just shoves it in our faces that YET AGAIN, BEING OBSESSED WITH AARON IS ALL HER CHARACTER STANDS FOR. 

I truly despise how Isayama handles her grieving, kissing his decapacitated head, carrying it around like some handbag, and her last panels being thissss.

The world leaving Paradis alone miraciously after all that??? 

It’s so weird and out of place with so many political feuds and disagreements between the world and Paradis, the entire Rumbling happening and we can see Mikasa just chilling outside in Paradis with no one bothering them. You can see the rings of the walls in the picture below.  I don’t know the exact reason behind as the manga is still in Korean, but from what I see, the story went the route of: throwing a happy ending without enough proper reason and  it was all fixed just like that in a snap! It doesn’t fit the entire narrative of attack on titan for things to be so peacful out of nowhere. When it comes to the narrative, how things work in that world, how hard it is to achieve peace, everything made somewhat sense up until chapter 138. 139 seems so so out of place...  It’s like I’m reading a chapter from a totally different manga. 

Aaron Yoghurt got defeated so easily/ Aaron’s character assassination

The build up on the first part of the rumbling was great, those kids carrying coins. You could feel humanity’s fear and Aaron’s hatred in those pages. As if he truly had a goal and he has turned away completely from his comrades and his closest friends with no return. The world seemed truly doomed, but he  got defeated just like that. He was in the nape all this time (because screw the warhammer power of hiding yourself elsewhere in his ginormous titan body). There is no master plan as we all expected, and in the end he just acts all yandere in the paths with Armin and that’s it... They massacared his entire character as well. Many fan theories created a better ending with his character. Him being reincarnated as Historia’s baby would be so much better. For him to still keep on seeking and to strive for power. It has always been his motive. It’s his personality from the start until chapter 138. Even if things are okay, to keep on going and to seek that adventure, but then.. He’s so weak and directionless suddenly.. It’s so weird... This is not Aaron at all???

Using Aaron for him this entire post, because I don’t want others to invade our tags... :)))

Historia’s baby 

The only panel we got from Historia’s child was this. Just a normal kid, normal life... Why did Isayama put so much effort in highlighting Historia’s pregnancy if it was nothing too spectacular anyway? It seemed he had major plans for this kid and for their development too??? It’s again, big plans, big developments, big relationship dynamic, but all  got thrown out of the window... 

Don’t read the next sentence if you are a minor :’) 

It’s like almost ejaculating, but stopping right before it and repeating that every single Arc.

My energy when writing about this chapter is the same as Nostalgia Critic and his hatred for atla the live action

In Conclusion...

I know us fans should not be deciding on how this story should end, because this is Isayama’s story after all, but I truly wished for him to wrap up things much more rounded. There are so many unanswered questions... Again, I think for the sake of being done with this manga, he rushed all of it. He’s become a millionaire from this story and now his pockets are jammed full, I guess he doesn’t need to put in any effort anymore, right? Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I really wished he cared for his fans a little bit more with this last chapter by giving some answers that make sense at least. It’s his fans who gave him this platform and the opportunity to tell his story and for him to at least give in a bit of effort especially in the last chapter is the least he can do. Rivamika being canon or not, he truly rushed it without thinking much about the entire story line. He expanded it so much, he didn’t know how to bind it all together.

Even after all this, I’ll still ship them in the headcanon type of way. I do give credit to Isayama for giving us a template for such a beautiful dynamic between Levi and Mikasa. He decides to waste it, but that doesn’t mean we have to.  I want to thank all the people with amazing writing skills, the ones who give us beautiful art like @carmenlee @phit chan @vialesana​ and many more. I want to remind all of you that we can create something beautiful of our own and we don’t neccesarily need canon lore for that. The art I’ve seen, the fanfictions I’ve read have touched me deeper than Isayama ever could at times.The Mikasa in our mind is appreciate of Levi, is mature, classy and has a strong will for herself. They spend their remaining days together peacefully. Keep writing, keep drawing, stay creative. 

I love you all so so much, I’ve only been publicly active since March, but thank you Rivamika fandom for giving me so much joy as a lurker these past 7 years <3

[noa-ciharu]

for the character ask, how about fushiguro and vanitas?

I've put Megumi one in other ask cuz of length. Okay so I actually haven't read the series but I'm going to be a dumbass and answer ask anyway based on vibes and vibes only ;D (plus ik it's funny sometimes to see opinions of people outside fandom). So without further ado:

First impression: omg how is he so beautiful that's literally the only thing I could think of for a week after I started seeing him on dash. Also I still can't figure out if he has long hair or if it's a clip of some sort. No matter no matter what matters is the aestheticsTM. And vampirism. God bless. Got the impression that he's cocky and arrogant a bit? But I bet it's some sort of defense mechanism so people don't try to get (emotionally) close to him.

Impression now: okay he's even more beautiful than I originally through. Due to prolonged exposure to Vanitas on dash I came to a conclusion that 1) there's something deeper going on around him 2) he 'can't' die but wishes he could? 3) him and Noe are gay af oh god every day I see something new. No bantering before marrige for them it should be. Ah and how can I forget 4) he probably needs therapy :D

Story idea: oke I saw some white cat there? Which I thought was Noe in cat form initially. So how about that becomes canon and he hocus pocus turns into cat? Wants to tell Vanitas something but can only meow meow. Chaos insures. We can add some other characters running after them or Vanitas pissing Noe off so he climbs in tree and won't come down. Utter chaos.

Favourite scene: I saw one on some rooftop with Noe but idk how to explain that one since I haven't read the manga. Beside that one, when he tries to kill Noe and holds knife to his throat and sobs like god it looks so emotional and significant to their relationship even to outsider's perspective like mine. Kinda cataracthic and stirring from my perspective. Also I remember when I first saw him in priest get-up, oh the irony.

Unpopular opinion: okay I know I joked he's gay but in reality from what I saw he's actually bi? Now idk what's the story about and what's his relationship with women and that white haired one but their interactions seems genuine to me somehow? Idk i might be wrong. Bi icon

Favourite relationship: I saw too many gay gay homosexual gay scenes with Noe on dash not to ship them. Idk what their reasons for hanging out together are in canon but subconsciously there gotta be some repressed romantic attraction. I saw that 'do you want to know how kiss feels like' scene with knuckles to the lips and dear God it's not even subtext anymore. Also saw some biting scene with that white haired girl (projecting she's Noe?) it looked hot but idk if I'd ship it based solely on that cuz idk her name let alone anything else about them. Still Vanoe <3

Favourite headcanon: he dresses so exquisitely so I decide he has thing for fashion, especially coats, dark academia vines and gothic/vampirism vibes. Idk if he has any money in canon or what he does for living (heard he's a doctor but idk if that's a joke or not) but all he has goes on clothes.

[teresa-moyocoyotzin]

short recap of my thoughts on 5x09

okay so i was gonna rewatch the whole episode and do a blow-by-blow reaction post but i’m not sure i’ll have time and i kinda wanna focus on watching my fave scenes from the show before tonight. also, everyone else’s reaction posts p. much sum up my thoughts lol 

nonetheless, i just wanted to give my main takeaways on the episode a week later, in case anyone cares where i’m at going into the finale! gonna go over the things i liked first, anyone who wants to just remain positive and not see any salty takes might wanna just stick to reading the first part b/c i definitely rant a bit at the end lmao. we’re still having a fun time tho 😂

THINGS I LOVED

- i mean... i think we know LOL

- obviously. i loved james and teresa’s i love you scenes, and kisses, and OOF THAT SEX SCENE. if someone had told me we were gonna get that scene back in like 2017??? i probably would have started literally floating. i totally respect that people had very specific ideas of what they wanted out of those scenes and could have different feelings about it but NOT ME BABES I AM ECSTATIC!!! i did go into the episode with a ~feeling~ that we were gonna get at least one ILY in the episode, and i just had a feeling it would be james, or at least that he would say it first. i’ve already explained in my meta about the scenes why i think it makes sense that he said it first and why i love it that he did, so i won’t go into that here. but i went in having really no expectations for it other than that it was gonna happen! i was debating about whether it would happen really casually while they’re talking, or in like a big action scene, or really dramatic or what, and what i would prefer, and i came to the conclusion that i would love it no matter what lol, but i was really into the idea of james just. fucking. saying it. while they’re just talking about something really casually. so therefore i was pretty happy with it when we got sort of a mix! they’re talking about teresa’s insane death trap of a plan so there’s that drama of “i don’t want to lose you esp. not before saying ILY” kinda thing, but it’s also just. so simple and sure! and then teresa’s i love you is like the perfect scene for me where one character is super focused on something else (in this case, trying to protect the woman he loves! agh!) and the other is just like.. i love you!!!! SO GOOD

- let’s see, what the hell else happened in this ep?

- oh okay i really liked james and teresa’s vibes this episode, they were so focused on each other and had this very ride-or-die feeling about them like they knew that each of their plans was increasingly stupid and desperate and might not even get them where they wanna go, but they were IN IT TOGETHER no matter what 😭i wish we had gotten a callback to that line but at this point, i’m p. sure they Know they’re in it together, and we do too. so it’s okay. i love that teresa still asks his input and considers his opinions even if she does her own thing anyways haha 

- oh on that note, i LOVED the moment where their plans to kill Kostya aren’t working and Teresa says something like “If I can meet with him in person, I can kill him myself” and James just has this LOOK that just is the epitome of the “I am in love with a women who is DESIGNED TO STRESS ME OUT” meme lol, it made me giggle, v classic QOTS moment 

- oh and of course, I LOVED that scene with devon and james at the end!!!!!!!! i was also confused about how james was showing all his emotions in that scene esp. since he tries to be stoic about his feelings for Teresa around Devon, but now that i’ve read a few people’s thoughts about, it i’m fully on board w the theory that james and teresa already knew this was coming, b/c they’re smart, and b/c james knows devon wouldn’t have let him walk away to save Teresa at the beginning of the season without motivation (like having him in place to kill her when she’s no longer useful to the CIA) and THEREFORE james was sort of “overacting” to make it believable to devon (and the audience lol) that he didn’t know this was coming, didn’t want to do it, but felt like he had to, rather than the fact that they were already plotting a fake death. that makes a lot of sense to me and makes me really love all the layers to that scene. it does give me a little bit of hope that the finale ~teresa’s not really dead~ reveal will be at least a little well executed and not just shoved in at the very end. we shall see though! 

- alright i think that’s what i loved about the episode, if u don’t wanna hear me bitching about the little things then u should probably stop here!! just have to get out some of my saltiness lol 

THINGS I WAS ANNOYED ABOUT

- i’m just gonna get it out of the way, yes, i too was supremely annoyed at the amount of KA and Pote take suburbia; it was all 1000% predictable down to the raccoon and the cookies, and the point could have been accomplished in exactly 1 scene, maybe 2, certainly not like 10 or however many we got. whatever. ugh. 

- okay. OKAY. chicho. we need to talk about chicho. i for one, am not mad that he called pote, my boy was stressed. I AM HOWEVER, mad at the writers for making pote come back after saying he trusted chicho to take care of teresa now. like. it totally devalued THE WHOLE THING!! imo, pote shoulda stayed his ass at home where we had to watch him settle all episode, and chicho should have gotten THE HERO MOMENT HE DESERVED (esp. cuz he’s on first name basis w teresa now??) which ALSO WOULD HAVE MADE THE SCENE WHERE TERESA GIVES CHICHO THE DISTILLERY AND THE BAR SO! MUCH! MORE! MEANINGFUL!!!!! or just made it make sense at all? like .... i’m just so confused by that whole plotline like what was the point? chicho does nothing but call pote and gets T’s whole legacy in NOLA? 

- and don’t even get me started on how it makes ZERO sense that pote would have had to charge in at the last minute to save teresa when JAMES THE SNIPER W AMAZING AIM WHO IS LITERALLY. IN LOVE WITH HER. is standing outside like. ur telling me james and chicho (who again, is supposed to be her #2 after james now) just stood there like “oh hey pote yeah you go ahead we’ll wait here good luck” like WHAT also.. how did pote get past all the guards that made james stay outside? are we meant to believe pote is that sneaky? y’all. it just. doesn’t make sense. this whole plot situation maddens me more than anythings tbh UGH JUST MAKE IT MAKE SENSE 

- oksana’s daughter..... what’s her name again? idk b/c we only MET HER THIS WEEK....okay this amuses me but i’m also annoyed b/c like. there were so many other women who could have taken that spot in the opening sequence... Lil T, Castel, hell even Isabela??? Like idk how they could have done it but they put so much effort into her plot in the first seasons that i really thought she was gonna end up w/ Teresa in the end.. idk that would have been kind cool, Camila’s two “daughters” eventually working their way out of the life together..again idk how they could have realistically done it but i really do wish it had been someone we met before. if it had to be someone new this season, they could have introduced her earlier instead of one of the seemingly dozens of random guys we knew for 1 episode before they died... like.. give her some depth please. is she even gonna be in the finale? honestly she better be after making us listen to pote welcome her into the family... like the family u were supposed to leave so u could have an actual baby pote? the family that’s literally dispersing as we speak? also.. since when did pote love oksana so much anyways? also...... just.. if teresa’s gonna have some sort of daughter figure or whatever she’s supposed to be, wouldn’t it make sense to have her be the one to give the big welcome to the family speech? idk y’all..... i’m amused but also baffled at the sheer lack of planning behind this. did no one realize they needed someone for the opening scene until like. halfway thru the season? did they plan to have it be castel but they couldn’t get her for filming (hence all the weird castel plots?) INQUIRING MINDS WOULD LIKE TO KNOW. it’s whatever tho lol 

- i just hope that what’s-her-name gets a lil bit of plot in the finale esp. since otherwise it might just be pote running around being pissy (i don’t actually think that haha but i am a lil nervous that teresa won’t come back until the last few mins and i’ll have to spend all episode looking at boaz and devon and pote and KA.. i haven’t looked at any spoilers tho so i’m still hopeful! i will probably make a post about my hopes going into the finale a lil later, both realistic and unrealistic :) 

[bentforkent]

caffeine, small talk

spencer reid x female!reader, enemies to lovers

content warning: smut !!!!!!, oral sex (male receiving), explicit language, tiny suicide reference, general meanness & bickering (including slut-shaming and toxicity), also some fluff in there too :)

word count: 3,668

in which spencer reid is a royal pain in the ass and he & the reader butt heads. 

“would you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?” - taylor swift, betty 

spencer reid is a royal pain in the ass. you don’t need to be a genius to know this as fact. as soon as you had stepped foot into quantico’s behavioral analysis unit on your first day however many years ago, the little shit had gotten under your skin. you had worn a lower cut top that day, you remember, and spencer hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of your chest. when hotch introduced you to the team, you gave a brief speech about your background and education, and each member of the team was hung on your every word, except for fucking spencer. he had been distracted by your looks. you remember feeling conscious of his eyes on your cleavage and tugging your blazer closed. from that moment, standing at the front of the bullpen, feeling exposed to him, you decided you hated spencer reid.

“glad to meet everyone,” you had addressed the team sincerely, in conclusion of your introductory spiel. on your way to your new desk, luckily placed across the room and behind spencer’s, he reached out and grabbed your elbow, standing.

“hi y/n, i’m dr. spencer reid,” he had said. the individual introduction probably would’ve warmed your heart (everyone else’s sure did, anyways) if you hadn’t already decided that spencer would be your official workplace enemy.

“dr. reid,” you nodded curtly. you pulled your arm from his grip firmly and resumed walking.

“hey,” he called after you. “i wanted to tell you—”

you paused and turned to him. “tell me what? how good my tits look in this shirt?” you whisper yelled, trying to maintain some level of professionalism. unsure how to answer you, spencer gaped like a goldfish. “you should know, as a woman, it’s really uncomfortable when you can feel weird pervs like you staring at my boobs. on my first day.” you leaned in closer. “my first fucking day!”

spencer retreated to his desk without a word. he wouldn’t meet your eyes, and that was the end of that. until the case. your very first case. spencer was pissed that you had snapped at him, and subsequently took it out on you. his tone of voice was consistently harsh and condescending as he addressed you on the case.

“no, y/n, that doesn’t fit the profile.”

“well, actually…”

“you’re not experienced enough to understand this.”

“my three phds told me i should work on this map alone.”

the feud has escalated since then. everyone on the team is aware of you and spencer’s solid disdain for each other, and they make a point to keep you two apart nowadays. morgan had once gripped both you and spencer by your shirt collars and forced you to apologize to each other, when your verbal abuse of each other had turned dangerously unprofessional.

“y/n, did you know that the earliest documentation of a ‘miniskirt’ was in a 1962 article?”

“did you know that the earliest documentation of me kicking your ass was today?”

“no, listen, the men interviewed for the article were in favor of miniskirts if they were only worn on women they didn’t know. they liked to lust after other women in the short skirts, but if their wives or daughters wore them, they were seen as poor reflections of the men. as whores.”

“what’s your point?”

“you look like a whore today.”

“fuck you, spencer. you know you beat your dick to your photographic memory of my ass in this skirt.” you mimed an orgasm.

“it’s eidetic, and i’d rather kill myself.”

“would you please?”

“fuck—” spencer started, but morgan intervened here.

——————————————

“close your mouth, boy wonder,” you greet spencer, opening your door to let him in. it’s your turn to host the team for drinks and dinner. much to your chagrin, spencer is a part of the team, and thus receives an invitation. you find solace in knowing penelope will probably distract you from any interaction with the lanky boy. besides, whenever the team hung out at your apartment, he quickly left after a few drinks and a short chat anyway. you could survive him for half of a night.

spencer flits past you and into your living room. the team greets him in an uproar of “reid!” and raised drinks. derek sticks out with his chant of “pretty boy!”

“y/n,” jj calls, “we’re dry over here.” she raises her empty glass of merlot.

“more wine, or something else, my loves?”

there’s an absence of voices shouting between rooms as the team discusses. you lean against your kitchen cabinet with eyes fixated on your liquor collection. waiting. this team sure does take their drinks seriously, you think, taking the time by yourself to make yourself an old fashioned. muddle a sugar cube in bitters. add whiskey. as you’re putting an ice cube into the glass, none other than spencer fucking reid saunters into the kitchen, a notepad in his hand.

“i have a list of drink requests,” he says simply, expression blank.

“resident alcohol connoisseur at your service. hit me,” you reply. your tone is more joking than you’ve ever used with spencer, but if he’s caught off guard he doesn’t show it. he rattles off the drink orders, each one something you probably could’ve guessed. penelope always wants something fruity, emily always wants something strong.

when his list is finished, you look up from the liquor to him. “nothing for the boy genius?”

“i’m leaving soon,” he says, and retreats back to the living room, arms full with drinks held precariously. you follow with the rest of the alcohol, handing each drink to its respective drinker. they each thank you profusely.

because your couch isn’t big enough to hold the whole team, you sit on the floor, legs criss-crossed. the team makes lighthearted conversation about not murder and kidnapping for an hour, with you getting up to refill drinks once more in that time. “i like hanging out at y/n’s place, guys. she makes the best drinks,” derek says with a grin up at you.

“i was a bartender in my past life, i think,” you deadpan. penelope agrees with you loudly, with a slurp of her colorful newest drink accompanying.

“speaking of bartenders,” jj starts, and you see spencer visibly tense. “when are you leaving for your date, spence?” she says the word date with a sing-songy tone, dragging out the ‘a,’  and you suddenly feel sick.

the team, naturally, dissolves into excited chatter. reid? a date? you’re silent, focused on your cocktail as the topic of conversation isn’t exactly your favorite. spencer’s not your favorite, you mean. this isn’t about spencer’s date. screw spencer. you don’t care if he goes on a date.

you listen as he fills the rest of the team in on the story. he and jj had gone for drinks one afternoon and he really hit it off with the bartender. lauren, her name is, and jj assures the team that she’s gorgeous. spencer laughs a little, uncomfortable, and stands to leave.

a wave of anger surges over you. how dare he skip out on his friends to go on a date? “i’ll walk you to your car, spencer!” you say cheerily, the lightheartedness in your voice in direct conflict with your internal emotion. the team isn’t stupid, however, and they’ve never heard you be nice at all to spencer, so everyone is acutely aware that something is about to go down. the room feels like the air has been sucked out of it as spencer meets your gaze.

“okay,” he says hesitantly.

you turn to the team. “be good while i’m gone, my loves. the alcohol is on the counter if you, by some crazy chance, need a refill in the next five minutes.” you blow them a kiss, penelope pretending to catch it. the rest of the team stares up at you with wide eyes. “let’s go, genius.” you open the door and escort him out.

as soon as the door latches behind you, spencer pipes up. “what the fuck are you doing, y/n?”

“walking you to your car, dipshit.” there’s a pregnant silence as you walk down the stairs of your apartment complex. “you know, it’s pretty fucked up for you to skip out on team bonding because of a date, spencer, but i understand. i know how important it is for you to lose your virginity one day.”

“fuck you, y/n. you really followed me down here to berate me?”

“yeah, i was getting a little bored just letting you sit there silently.” you lean your side against his car as he unlocks it and tosses his bag into the backseat.

he copies your stance, leaning across from you and looking at you intently. “why do you hate me?”  his tone of voice is low, and you can tell he’s mad.

“you irritate me,” you reply.

“not good enough.” his hazel eyes search your face and even though it’s dark, you can tell they look like honey from the glow of the street lamps.

“you annoy me.”

“again, not good enough. those are synonyms.”

his calm demeanor is enough to send you over the edge. “i hate that you look at me, spencer!” you exclaim, raising your voice. “you make me feel like i’m inferior, like i’m a piece of goddamn fucking meat.” you push your pointer finger into his chest. “you think i’m less intelligent than you, you think i’m less qualified than you, and frankly, you’re a pompous asshole.” he’s silent in stark contrast to your yelling in his face. “i hate your date for tonight. i hate that the whole team loves you.  i hate your fucking cardigans and your fucking converse. i hate when you wear a tie but it’s a little too long or a little too short. i hate that sometimes, you wear a hair tie on your wrist but,” you enunciated each word with a stomp of your foot, “you. never. put. your. hair. up.”

“you’re saying all this, y/n, and i get it, i really do,” he speaks coolly. “all I’m hearing, though, is that you’re in love with me.”

“you cocky fucking asshole.” riled up, you turn and attempt to walk away. spencer grabs your elbow and you’re reminded of the day you first met.

“you hate my cardigans? my ties? my shoes? y/n, for someone who hates that i look at her, you sure look at me a lot.” his voice has less of an edge now, less arrogance. you hum, face still turned away from him. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’ve been a dick to you for years. i own that, and i’m sorry. but i think you came down here because subconsciously, you didn’t want me to get in my car and go on this date tonight.” his hand is still on your elbow, but you pull it away to rub your eyes.

he has absolutely deflated you. the anger you felt in the moments just before is missing, and you take his words to heart. it’s impossible. you weren’t in love with spencer, y/n. just tell him you’re not in love with him, it’s simple. he’s your mortal enemy. you’re not in love with him.

“i think i may be love with you,” you say meekly, finally turning to him. fuck. you meet his eyes for the first time in what feels like years. maybe it had been. he’s softer than you remember.

“y/n, let me kiss you.”

“i’m nervous,” you admit in a whisper. he rubs his hand across your cheek and you lean into the touch. “spencer, literally two minutes ago i wanted you dead, and now…” you trail off. he nods in silent agreement. the two of you stand like that for a few more moments, his hands cupping your face, your eyes raking his features. “…you’re pretty,” you finish quietly. “have you always been pretty?”

he pretends to think for a moment. “yeah, actually.”

you give a watery chuckle and pull away from his embrace gently. “the team is still upstairs. if you really want to kiss me, ditch your date tonight and come back up.”  after you press a hand to his cheek lovingly, you retreat to your apartment quickly, hardly giving him time to follow you.

when you reenter the apartment, the team is silent and staring at you. it’s obvious by their faces that they’d just been talking about you. you close the door behind you and press your back against it. “hi, guys,” you say.

“nothing? no harsh words about reid?” derek peers at you closely.

as you make your way back into the living room, you point a finger at him. “don’t profile me, derek!” everyone chuckles. you don’t plan on bringing up spencer at all, but the silence that settles over the team breaks you. maybe you’re just excited to talk about it, you think, and where once you’d push that thought away, now you welcome it. you gush about what happened in the parking lot, using your hands to emphasize important points. you give the team a short version, expecting spencer to be back up at the apartment any moment. how embarrassing would it be if he walked in the door and you were talking about him? none of the team seemed particularly shocked, but emily casually mentioned how funny it is that none of them had figured out that you and spencer were grappling with feelings for each other.

“if it makes anyone feel any better, i didn’t figure it out either. the only one who did was…”

“reid,” everyone choruses in unison. you dissolve into giggles until the time hits you. it’d taken you about 20 minutes to explain the situation. so much for the short version, but surely spencer would’ve been back by now. unless…you hadn’t considered the possibility that he left. that he actually went on his date instead.

penelope takes note of your sudden shift in expression. “uh, y/n, i hate to say this, but…”

you nod. “he would’ve been back by now, yeah.” you climb up from your seated position and walk to your bedroom, looking out of your window that overlooks the parking lot. “he left,” you call back to the living room, despondent. “fucking asshole,” you whisper. you can hear derek sigh even from your distance. you take a second to compose yourself. fixing your posture, vertebra over vertebra. you allow your emotions to shut off, any sadness you felt towards spencer’s obvious rejection pushed away and replaced with a void. you pad back into the living room.

“well, that’s embarrassing,” you say with a half-laugh. jj gives you a sad look. “anyways, anyone who’s not driving home tonight is welcome to get loaded with me tonight. i just got new shot glasses.” your attempt at acting fine obviously wasn’t flying with the team, and after a moment of silence you finally let it go and sink into the chair next to the couch.

“no more alcohol tonight,” jj says.

“yeah, agreed. i hate to kick you guys out, but i feel like i might just spend the rest of the night in the bathtub. with the lights off.” everyone agrees, standing to leave. you thank them repeatedly for hanging out with you, and apologize for the unfortunate ending to the evening.

you hug penelope, jj, and emily. as you’re opening your arms to embrace derek, there’s a knock at the door. you pause, arms still outstretched. you look around in a panic, and derek pipes up, “well, are you gonna get that?” you feel like you can taste the excitement in the air as everyone pieces together who’s just knocked.

you swing open the door, and there’s spencer, a large bouquet of flowers perched in his arms. “i’m sorry I took so long, i went to get—”

you cut him off by pressing your lips to his firmly. it’s a short kiss, but it says what it needs to say. there are hoots and hollers from behind you, but there’s no one in the room except you and spencer. “you frustrate me.”

————————————————–

you press tiny kisses along spencer’s bare chest. your friends are long gone, leaving pretty swiftly after spencer had shown up. you and spencer had moved to the couch quickly, lips locked, but not before he had explained what the flowers he bought you signified.

“according to the victorian flower code, red tulips signify a declaration of love. victorians used flowers to communicate feelings because courting someone and showing feelings in public was considered taboo.”

“that’s nice, spencer. i like that. is there a flower for “i thought i hated you but it was actually just repressed sexual tension?”

you lay on his chest, limbs entangled. he’s got one hand in your hair stroking gently and the other resting on your stomach, where his thumbs make unconscious circles. “hey, i have this pendant on my necklace, too,” you whisper, tangling your fingers in the chain around his neck. he’s silent for a long time. “spence?” you look up at him. he’s looking down at you, brows furrowed and eyes wistful.

“you wore that necklace on your first day,” he murmurs. “when you were introducing yourself to the team. and i noticed.” the wheels start to turn in your head. “i tried to tell you that we had the same pendant. i was gonna show you,” he sighs. “i was excited to tell you. but you thought i was staring at your boobs.”

you frown, twisting to press a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “i called you a perv. i remember.” he nods. you pout. “i’m sorry, spence. think of how different things would’ve been if i had just listened.”

“yeah, you should probably work on that,” he jokes.

“how can i make it up to you?” you ask, knowing fully well what your plan is. you move smoothly from the couch onto your knees in front of him. “how can i make up for lost time?” he doesn’t respond. he doesn’t need to. you make quick work of his belt buckle as he looks down at you through hooded lids.

time moves slowly as you unbutton and unzip his pants, and spencer is in agony waiting. you look so pretty. he lifts his hips slightly to help you remove his pants. “i don’t think i’ve ever heard you this quiet, spence,” you murmur as you begin palming his bulge through his boxers.

he breathes out a soft moan. “yeah, well your hand is on my dick, so pardon me.” his words are spencer’s typical deadpan, but his voice is an octave higher than usual and full of breath. you tug his boxers down just enough to free his hard cock, and you’re taken aback. he’s big, longer than he is wide. his dick is painfully stiff, wet with precum, and you’ve never wanted to suck someone off more than you have in this moment.

“you’ve been holding out on me, dr. reid,” you grin, eager. you begin to pump him slowly, tantalizingly.

he lets out a high pitched moan and bucks his hips into your hand. “stop teasing.”

“teasing?” you bring your lips to his cock and kiss down his shaft. “i’ve never teased you, not once in my life.” you punctuate by licking a long strip up the base of his cock and pulling him into your mouth slowly. his left hand finds your hair, tugging it back into a ponytail, and his right strokes your cheek softly. you look up at him as you hollow your cheeks and he lets out a rumbling groan at the eye contact. you bob your head slowly, gradually picking up speed. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, spencer whimpers. as you speed up, tears spill out of your eyes. he screws his own shut.

“fuck, y/n.” his hand tightens around your hair and he thrusts his hips once, prompting you to pull off of him and wipe your mouth. you can tell he’s close, and you want this to be good for him. spencer is distraught, to say the least, at the loss of contact. he begins to plead, “wait, shit, no, plea—”

“fuck my mouth.” you cut him off. without waiting for an answer, you sit back on your heels with a bounce and open your mouth for him.

he groans. “you’re going to kill me, baby.” you whimper at the pet name and make a mental note to bring it up later. he moves closer to you, guiding his cock into your mouth. he’s close, too close to even consider going easy on you. his hips move quickly, thrusting in and out of your mouth, punctuated by your gags. he’s feral, chasing his orgasm desperately until he finally reaches his high, moaning your name loudly. you swallow all of his release, pulling off of him and sticking your tongue out for approval. wordlessly, he gets down on his knees to meet your height. before you can ask him what he’s doing, he grabs your face and pulls you into a passionate kiss. you moan against his mouth, but the kiss is over before you know it.

“i love you,” he says sincerely, and you shake your head in disbelief.

“i cannot believe i am saying this to you, spencer reid, but i love you too, baby.” you say the word “baby” with a joking tone, clearly mocking his use of it earlier.

he smiles, all teeth, and says, “i knew you would make fun of me for that! as soon as i said it.”

you shake your head with a smile. “no, i’m not making fun of you, love. i liked it. use it more.”

“‘love’?”

“would you prefer ‘hate’?”

“god, no, not again,” he says, scooping you up into his arms and peppering kisses all over your face and hair. “never again.”

[xsarcasticwriterx]

Wonderwall- part 4

Summary: The ultrasound and talk of things starts to raise some questions

Pairing: Tony stark x reader x bucky barnes/ with a tiny slice of stucky x reader (really tiny)

Warnings: Angst, talk of emotional/ physical abuse, lot of fucked up shit but not much else triggering i don't believe, Swearing,

Notes: This chapter is pretty fucked but uh it's got some fluff pfft (also ignore my random yeehawness coming out when i say y'all, k? thanks)

Wonderwall masterlist

You awoke to the feeling of warmth all around you. Opening your eyes you saw bucky in front of you his arm over your waist you smile but you see another arm. you look over your shoulder seeing steve and you give a soft smile. guess he fell asleep. you see him move a little before his eyes flutter open. he looks at you and then around. you turn slowly trying not to awaken bucky. “hi” you whisper. steve removes his arm from you and rubs his face “hey” he whispers back. “guess i fell asleep here” he said with a small smile. His blonde hair was messy and his eyes were half asleep. “come on” you whisper and get out of bed.

Stever follows after and you two walk outside. you sit on the steps and inhale the cold air. It was really late, or early depends how you look at it. Steve sat next to you “figured we could talk more out here without waking up buck” you said. steve nodded “makes sense to me” he said looking you over. you were curled into a ball rubbing your arms for warmth. “here” he said taking off his long sleeve shirt handing it to you. you smiled “thanks” you put it on inhaling the smell of him which was like soap honestly. 

You closed your eyes putting your head on steve's shoulder “you ok there?” steve asked. you shrugged “i dont know i’m pregnant and not with my boyfriends kid and i slightly worry what's going to happen to them.” you say opening your eyes and looking down while messing with your fingers.”What do you mean?’ steve asked. you thought over what you wanted to say. what could you say? you had no clue if this kid would have powers because you technically were born this way? That your father injected your pregnant mom with serums to save her and you and it only broke your life forever and didn't even save your mother. “y/n?” steve asked. you lifted your head looking over steves face. he was concerned and confused. 

He wanted to make sure you were ok but he also needed to know what you meant. you opened your mouth but then the door opened. “there you are” bucky said. you turned your head and smiled “hi sweetheart.” you say standing up with a smile.Steve was still confused as hell. “you ok there steveo?” buck asked. steve blinked looking at where you were clinging to bucky's side as steve held you close. It was like a complete 180 from how you were 5 seconds ago. “always buckeroo” steve said with a smile. “go back to sleep doll ill be in, in a few”  buck said to you. you looked at steve then buck and nodded slowly.

“whats up?” bucky asked steve. “I dont know...she...bucky what do you know of her y'know past like before nick fury got her?” steve asked. bucky shifted his weight from foot to foot. He knew everything, he had found you one night having a panic attack. You told him everything in a panic and he understood what it was like. It was how you two became so close. “why?” bucky asked. “she said she worry for what's going to happen to the baby. I don't know if she means raising them but from the sound of it and how nervous she was i assume that wasn't it.” steve said still concerned. Bucky nodded he knew what you meant. He pulled steve in for a hug “thanks for tell me steve” he said pulling away “don't worry about it i got it handled” bucky said patting steves cheek and walking in. steve sighed and walked to his room. 

--

You sat on the chair as the ultrasound transducer rubbed over your stomach “well it seems you are about a month pregnant. the baby is very healthy everything seems to be good so keep doing whatever your doing” she said putting up the wand “which of you is the father?” she asked and tony raised his hand. “but i'm the boyfriend” bucky said. the doctor nodded slowly “oh ok” she said “well uh you know just help her with the symptoms and everything but yall are good” she said with a smile. “uhm i do have one small question” she said. “there was something...strange i've never seen it before. It was like...an aura  around the baby” she said confused. you gulped looking up at the boys. they looked back at you. she wiped the gel off of you and with that y'all left in a rush

you slammed the car door and started to panic. once home you ran to your room “I’ll deal with it” bucky said. Tony grabbed bucky's wrist “you gotta tell me what's going on.” tony said. bucky nodded “I will, we will.” and with that bucky walked off after you.

He walked into the room seeing you sitting on the edge of the bed staring down at the floor. “I can't have a child turn out.....be me” you said messing with your hands. “Y/n.... you are not your father if this baby is like you it dosent mean you’ll be like him” bucky said sitting next to you. 

“I don't want my child to have powers i don't want them to be a god damn avenger spending everyday wondering if their going to die or wondering if this is the day they snap.” you said feeling your breathing get shaky and tears build up in your eyes. The last thing you wanted the last thing you needed was for your baby to have to be trained to control such powers. “tony asking?” you ask turning to bucky.

he nods “yea” he whispers. “My father forced me to be this way he saw it as saving me, saving my mother, in the end i came out with powers that i had no control over till i was 17 and didn't even know i had till i was 5 and still didn't have a mother.” you said wiping the tears from your face. 

“but you know your baby will, you now know how to control it and can teach them, it won't be the same you know not to do those things to your child” bucky said. you nodded bucky sighed and walked out the room.

At some point you fell asleep. Waking in the middle of the night you felt bucky holding you close. you turned kissing his cheek before sliding out of his grasp. you walked to the kitchen getting a glass of water before seeing a person sat out on the porch outside. 

You walk outside and sit next to him. “hey” tony said softly “how are you?” he asked. you nodded softly. “you probably have questions” you said looking at the porch floor. “I do but that's your story, your life, you'll tell me when you feel comfortable” tony said looking at you.

you gulped. you knew you owed it to him to tell him, after all you were having his child. “When my mom was pregnant, well it was like a ticking time bomb. Doctors said my life would be the end of hers. My father was not pleased with this development and decided him, as a scientist, could make a serum to stop that. He injected my mother with so many things and in the end i was born and she still died.” you started with sigh still looking at the floor “you don't have to” tony said. you shook your head “I want to” you replied. 

“when i was 5 my powers came to, couldn't control them soon as i touched my dad he'd do as i pleased. i asked for a teddy bear, threw a fit over it grabbed my dad's arm and all the sudden i got it. he was so confused as why he did that but nonetheless he couldn't stop. he started doing test on me, testing my blood, my saliva, my skin. saw the serum in my blood but not just in my blood in me all of me. then his goal was to make me as powerful as possible. He tried to make me be able to self heal. would cut me and shoot me. would torture me for days on end testing serum after serum on me. Was that way till fury took me in. They went to arrest him for abuse and neglect but he was gone lord knows where he is now. anyways it wasn't ever for sure if i was born this way not 100% but now...” you trailed off. tony looked you over seeing you holding in tears. he pulled you into a hug.

“It wasn't your fault.” tony said rubbing your arm. you pulled away shaking your head. tony grabbed your chin making you look at him “It was not your fault” he said more firmly. tears fell down your face. “thank you” you whispered. tony pulled you into another hug. 

he let go and stood up pulling you up. “you are an amazing and strong women you hear me? What he did to you is...I will kill him if i ever see him no correction not kill him but hurt him in ways he never imagined. what he did is not your fault.” he said and your turned away “y/n” he said and you turned back to him “your mothers death is not your fault.” he said. you nodded looking at the floor. “y/n look at me and say none of it is your fault” he said. you looked at him “i cant” you whispered. tony held your face in his hands “say it sweetheart” he said. “I cant” you said crying tears streaming down your face. “shhh its ok” he said hugging you.

You cried into his arms. he rubbed your back “some day you will” he said. you pulled away “i should...” you trailed off. he nodded “come on” he said putting his hand on the small of your back as you two walked in and to the hallway. “thank you” you said. tony gave a small smile “of course” he said and you looked around before walking back to your room.

Tony went to his room and layed in bed playing over the event of the night until he launched up from bed. He had come to one conclusion of himself. “shit” he mumbled. “i'm falling for her” he said falling back and rubbing his face groaning.

Tag list :)

@vicmc624​ @mylifeispainandiloveit​ @frostay​ 

[poptod]

Say My Name (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: You’re a harpist that gets noticed by the Prince, to your own terror. The prince is only trying to get your affection - but you simply won’t break the rules. You won’t even say his name. After all, it’s not allowed.

Prompt: Harp

Notes: Okay so recently (just now) I realized I can post my long fics! When I first came to Tumblr I couldn’t post them due to length, but now I can! I used to write big, long fics all the time, but it turns out people prefer smaller, more frequent fics, and since it takes me around three weeks to churn one of these babies out I’ll probably stick to my shorter fics. Gender neutral again, your name is Nour for historical reasons :) Also, I wrote this before I found out how Ahk was killed, so apologies. Enjoy!

AO3 Link: Say My Name

Word Count: 11.9k

It wasn’t your place to say a thing. In fact, if you did say a thing, you might get punished for it. Yet that was the partial beauty of him - if you mentioned your observations to him, and him alone, he would take it in stride. You hadn’t ever spoken to him before, never met him, but you’d heard rumours. Still, you continued playing your instrument, avoiding his gaze.

Celebrations such as this (a birthday) were one of your favorite things to do, despite how stressful they were. Constant pressure from superiors, a near command to memorize complicated music. Oftentimes, you felt you hadn’t picked the right career. Other times, you saw yourself doing nothing else.

The prince continued to stare at you, his gaze menacing. He hardly ever looked at you like that, or anyone for that matter. It led you to the conclusion that most likely, he was not directing his anger at you, which only raised more questions.

You were not allowed to leave in order to eat, or drink, or take a break. You and your ‘band’ were the best players that the palace had; thus the orders were to play till the last guest left. Because of this order, you could not ask the prince. You shouldn’t anyway, you knew that very well. You weren’t even supposed to look at him. Yet with such piercing eyes set upon you, it was a little hard to follow orders.

The birthday celebrations lasted long into the night, and you continued to play until the last guest left, leaving only the royal family. A mother and a father, friendly in stature and cruel in rulings, an elder son looking highly displeased, and a younger son, deep in thought.

“You may stop,” the Queen told you, and you did not meet her eye. You bowed low, packing your instruments up.

“Harpist,” the prince’s voice called you, and you turned, eyes fixated on the floor. It was beginning to look very interesting. “I’d like to discuss some things with you,” he said. His mother whispered something to him, and he whispered back, louder, though still indiscernible.

“Yes, my prince,” you said, bowing. You turned back around, eyes wide, face red with embarrassment. You finished packing up, and as your friends left, they pat you on the shoulders comfortingly. A weak way of apologizing for whatever fate you were about to face.

The prince turned down a hallway, golden robe trailing behind him. You looked around confused. Were you to follow him? His mother quickly gestured at him, frowning at you. You bowed quickly, following him down the hallway.

Torches lined the painted walls, giving light to the stories that had been etched there. Your eyes followed the stories, the marvelous art that you hardly ever got to see in your daily life. Eventually he turned into a room, and you followed, your instrument still in its’ case by your side.

He turned quickly around to you, watching as you set the case down. He caught your eye, and your eyes zipped down to the floor.

“No, don’t do that,” he said, practically floating over, lifting you by the chin so you could meet his eyes.

You’re pretty sure you might’ve blacked out for a good two seconds. You weren’t allowed to know what he looked like. You weren’t supposed to see his face, and by all that was holy you were not supposed to touch him.

“I need your advice,” he said, now heading towards the balcony. You did not follow him, thinking it would suffice that you could hear him from the large doorway. He did not seem to agree, as he beckoned you over. You bowed your head a little, following his command, soon standing at his side.

“Do you have any siblings?” He asked you, looking up at the sky. You stared at the ground as you spoke.

“No, my prince,” you answered simply, addressing him properly.

“Do not call me that,” he said firmly, and you watched as his hands gripped tighter around the edge of the balcony. You took a deep breath, feeling your body shake. “You may simply refer to me by my name.”

You nodded, though didn’t fully process his request.

“My brother,” he started quietly, tensing and intending his muscles. “I am worried he will do something rash. What do you suppose I should do?”

Why in the world was he asking you for advice?

“Pardon my questioning,” you said, knowing you shouldn’t at all be asking this, “but why do you request my advice? I am just a citizen.”

“That is exactly why,” he said, and he turned to face you. Knowing the demand before he pronounced it, you looked at him. You hoped the fear was not evident on your face.

“Why would the prince do something rash?” You inquired, tightening your grip on the railing.

“He has been angry recently. I’m not sure why, but when he gets angry for long periods of time, he tends to end up murdering people,” he said quickly, intaking a shaky breath.

“I think you’re stressed,” you said before you thought about it. He turned to you, looking a little surprised.

Ah, so this was how you were going to die.

“I suppose you’re right,” he mumbled, looking to the ground as if he were ashamed. Why would he be ashamed in front of you?

He looked back up at you.

“Do you have any suggestions for stress relief?”

“My prince, I really do not believe this is appropriate-“

“My name?” He asked of you, and hesitantly, you obeyed.

“Ahkmen, this isn’t appropriate,” you told him flat out, no more beating around the bush. He nodded in agreement.

“Fun things are seldom ever appropriate,” he said with a smirk, grabbing your wrist and leading you back into the room. You might’ve blacked out again. He led you to his bed, where he sat, making sure you stood exactly in front of him. He grabbed both your hands, holding them in his.

“Would you mind playing your harp again, for me? A private performance,” he asked quietly, a tenderness you didn’t expect very apparent in his eyes. Hesitantly you nodded, releasing yourself from his grip and wandering over to your case. You took it out, wondering where you could sit in order to play it. Deciding against asking for a seat, or heavens forbid sitting next to him, you kneeled on the ground. The rounded end of the harp let it fall onto your left shoulder, and you plucked out a melody. The sharp and staccato sound was pleasant to your ears, but you’d heard a great deal of it already that night. You took some liberty, changing up a few of the tunes and chords, stroking the strings a tad different than usual.

“You play beautifully,” he commented near the end of your piece. You smiled up at him, before directing your attention back to the music, not wanting to lose concentration.

“Do you sing as well?” He asked, moving to lie back against the pillows of his bed. You shrugged. Yes, you sang, but you weren’t a singer. You told him this, and he told you to sing for him.

“If you don’t mind,” he added at the end. You nodded once more, starting on a lullaby that you knew very well. It was comparatively short next to your last piece, and when you finished, he asked you where you had picked it up.

“My mother used to sing it to me,” you informed him quietly, putting the harp back into its’ case.

“My mother sang me songs sometimes. Oftentimes it was other women,” he said, sitting up properly. “Sit next to me,” he asked of you, and you obeyed. There was no hesitation in your movements, realizing at this point he was trying to make your life difficult by bending rules that you didn’t have a desire to bend. The faster you listened to him and obeyed, the faster the night would end, and the faster you’d be able to breathe again.

“Spend the night with me,” he requested. You felt yourself mentally draw the line right there.

“That is not appropriate, my prince, I must leave now,” you said, hands shaking and voice reverberating your fear into him. You immediately stood up, briskly walking over to the door where your harp lay safely in its’ case.

“At least let me say good bye,” he said hurriedly, getting up after you. He grabbed your wrist before you could reach your case, pulling you towards him. You turned to face him, bright red and highly embarrassed.

“I will see you again,” he said, and your eyes immediately directed to his lips. He raised your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles, watching you intently the entire time. You stopped breathing momentarily.

“G - good bye,” you said quickly, pulling your hand away, grabbing your harp, and leaving. You avoided the stares of palace workers and officials as you left, keeping your head down as you were taught to, until you reached more common streets.

You blacked out once you reached home, collapsing onto your bed.

Two days later, you’d achieve the same state of terror, or more, as you had two nights before. Palace guards showed at your door, giving you a notice that you were to present yourself to the royal family. Your roommate congratulated you, but you felt the opposite reaction was called for. Stress such as this was not a thing you handled easily.

Nevertheless, you presented yourself, with your instrument, as they had told you. A man you did not know, dressed extravagantly, informed you that you were to become a private musician for one of the princes. You nodded, sort of expecting that.

You respected the royal family. It wasn’t that which made you sour, or the fact that your servants quarters were shared with four other people when you originally lived with only one other person. You didn’t mind leaving your possessions behind.

Your problem was that you could get caught. The prince was the one being rash, doing things he aught not to do, things that could get him punished and you killed. Unfortunately, you had a thing about death, where you sort of didn’t want to die. Sounded a painful, unpleasant experience all around.

Later that evening, after mulling about in your new room alone, you were ordered to the young princes room. They never spoke his name, you noticed, and you realized how much worse that made the fact that you had called him by his name at least once.

You knocked once on the door, it being loud enough that you didn’t feel the need to knock again. A voice from inside called, ‘come in,’ so you let yourself in, announcing your presence with what was left of your dignity and professionalism.

He didn’t wear his cape or crown, but he kept his skirt and sported a light shawl.

“My prince,” you said simply, bowing. He chuckled, nearing you. You stood straight once again, keeping your eyes on the ground.

“Good to see you came back instead of running away. I told you I’d see you again.”

“What do you need, my prince?”

He frowned slightly, leading you further into the room.

“I thought we got over the formalities last night,” he commented sadly, still holding your wrists.

“What am I here for?” You asked once more. He sighed, giving in to your question.

“I told my parents about your music. They suggested you live here so you can help me with my, uh, stress, when needed. I thought it to be a good enough idea, and besides,” he leaned in a bit closer, “I wanted to see you again.”

“Are you currently stressed?” You asked, observing him with a calculated look. You shoved your emotions as far down as you could, hoping that would help for this evening.

“Yes, I’m afraid my brother has been a continuous worry to me,” he said, stepping away from you, beginning to pace the room. “He accuses me of awful things, and because it would be shameful for him to physically harm me, he has begun harming our servants and slaves. It’s painful to watch, and I can’t do anything about it. If I do, I will seem unfit to be royal, and I may be cast out. I can’t risk that.”

“Have you tried asking him what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do that. I thought of it, but he’s closed off, and even if he would tell someone he would never tell me. I don’t think he trusts me.”

“The trust of cowards is not something worthy to gain,” you said distractedly, looking at the patterned ceiling.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, stopping his pacing. “You’re really quite intelligent, aren’t you?” He neared you, standing in front of you again. You hadn’t moved from your position near the door.

“I have my uses,” you said, and he laughed, his smile delicate and very unlike who he currently presented himself as. You felt yourself weaken for a moment.

“Would you mind singing to me again?”

“Of course, my prince,” you replied, kneeling to open your case. He held a finger beneath your chin, raising your head to look at him. He towered above you in this position, a general air of dominance that made you shiver emanated from him.

“My name?” He asked quietly, his kind voice betraying his commanding exterior.

“Of course, Ahkmen,” you repeated yourself, weaker. He smiled, and left to lie on the bed. You resumed pulling out the harp, taking once more your kneeling position on the floor, the harp falling on your shoulder as you plucked at the strings. You tapped your foot to the beat, making sure that you didn’t lose your count. Every now and then you’d look up to the prince, watching his expression for any sign of displeasure. Each time he showed none, so you continued.

“What’s your name, harpist?” He asked, interrupting your playing. You shook your head a bit, getting back on track. You continued to play as you answered.

“Nour,” you said simply, concentrating deeply.

“Beautiful name,” he said quietly, sighing as he relaxed back into his bed once more. You took a deep breath, calming yourself as you kept playing. A few minutes later, he stood, walking up to you. He paused your playing, asking that you put your harp down. As always you obeyed.

“Come with me,” he said, and you again followed him. He led you out the door, and down a back hallway. The paintings on the walls disappeared, and eventually all the torches faded away. He continued leading you down more and more complex hallways, the structures confusing you. It hit you then that it would be very easy to trap you here, and that if someone wanted to kill you here, it wouldn’t be that hard. But, if the prince wanted to kill you, he could’ve done it in broad daylight.

You continued walking behind him until a small doorway appeared, lit up by the moonlight. You jogged a bit to catch up, watching him disappear down steps.

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” He called back to you, now practically running down the steps. You watched him, his eyes glued upon the river in the distance. He began running, you trailing after, weaving through the reeds that grew on the banks of the water. Eventually he stopped at the rivers edge, the sandy shore riding just above his sandals. You stopped beside him, panting, crouched down slightly. You weren’t used to exerting yourself physically. Apparently, he was.

“My prince, you must be careful, you don’t know what kind of animals could sneak up on you,” you panted, finally standing to your full height beside him. He looked at you, laughing.

“Don’t worry, much of this stretch is harmless. Too narrow to truly be a resting spot for anything dangerous,” he informed you, stepping out into the river. You froze, eyes wide as you watched him. As he continued, the water only came up to his mid calf, soaking his pants.

“Join me,” he said to you, facing you with a hand outstretched. You clenched your hands into fists, thinking about how awfully wrong all this was. You weren’t supposed to be here, not with him, certainly not by yourself, and you weren’t supposed to look at him. You weren’t supposed to touch him. He wasn’t supposed to deal with sorts like you. Lowly sorts.

You took his hand. Barely laying your fingers in his before he curled them tightly around yours, pulling you in. You stumbled slightly, regaining your balance in the water as it splashed up your legs. The moon reflected brightly in the water, but despite this you couldn’t see much of the details of his face. You could tell that he smiled though, his laughter echoing in the silent lands. However much you knew this to be wrong, you smiled with him, warm water coming up to your legs.

“See? Nothing wrong,” he said quietly, pulling you in closer and grabbing your other hand in his. All ease slipped away, and you choked up, staring petrified at him.

“We shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be doing this,” you said, voice high and shaky.

“Shouldn’t be doing what? Enjoying myself?” He raised a single eyebrow at you, judging you with a funny look in his eye. He was smiling.

Your fears came pouring out. They filled your entirety, boiling beneath your skin and itching to come out, like a rash upon your tongue.

“You shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be talking with you, I shouldn’t look at you, I shouldn’t touch you, I-“

“It’s not your fault. If anyone is to put blame on us, it will fall solely on me, I will make sure of it,” he told you quietly, an attempt to calm your fears.

“And what will happen to you then? You’ll be punished,” you choked out, feeling your throat swell up.

“All worth it to spend time with you,” he whispered, drawing ever closer. You took a step back, the water splashing up the back of your legs.

“Why are you so invested in me?” You asked, trying weakly to pull your hands out of his grip. He did not let go.

“Your playing enchants me, and the way you refuse to, well… bond with me, I suppose, is intriguing. Most people I’ve met jump at the chance to form a sort of relationship with me. Simply because of my standing,” he explained quietly.

You hardly believed people only associated with him because of rank. He happened to also be an incredibly nice person, as well as truthful and sincere unlike any royalty you’d met before. Not only that, despite what you continuously told yourself, he was very handsome.

“I hardly believe it’s only because of your royalty,” you said, voicing only half your thoughts.

“Why’s that?” He asked quickly, leaning in further, pulling you closer. He looked desperate, curious for your answer. You breathed deeply. He smelled of perfume. Of course.

“You’re one of the more benevolent royalty that I’ve met,” you said simply, not meeting his eyes. His eyes however, did not waver from yours, attention directly on you. Your skin felt hot beneath his touch.

“Is that why you won’t say my name?” He came chest to chest with you, the words from his mouth heating your cheek beyond what was comfortable.

“My prince, I am only here to play music for you,” you breathed out, weak and indecisive. Your gaze stay fixed on his shoulder and past, to the river shining behind him.

“You are here to help with my stress. That’s your job specification, and you’re doing a terrible job at it,” he laughed, his body swaying slightly.

“I think I would be better at it if you didn’t put me in stressful situations,” you retorted before you could think. Eyes widening upon reflection of what you just said, your breath caught in your lungs. An unpleasant tingle shivered through your legs, making you weaker than you already were.

“Don’t worry so much and you’ll be fine. I have to say you’re doing a wonderful job distracting me from my brother,” he told you, continuing to sway, moving your arms back and forth in some mock form of a dance. “Enjoy yourself,” he said, leaning in and whispering the words against your ear. You blacked out for two seconds again, before blinking, looking to his face, his eyes attracting you immediately.

He was scanning your face, a concentrated look in his eyes. He blinked a few times, sighing, before letting go of your hands.

“Let’s go back to the palace,” he said quietly, turning and leaving you calf deep in the water.

+

The sick pit in your stomach began feeling worse the longer you spoke with the prince. After three full moons had come and gone, you came to a comparison. It was a terrible comparison to make, and you’d never, ever voice it, but you felt as though you were being tempted by a demon. Play for him. Look into his eyes. Touch him just a little more. Call him by his name. Lean into the temptations and be damned for eternity, but stay away and you’ll suffer heartache worse than death.

You decidedly never crossed the border of touching him in any sort of way - no, anything that happened in accordance with that was entirely his fault. You never called him by his name. You tried your best not to look into his eyes, in fear of losing yourself within them. They swirled gold and foreign delicacies, new and familiar all at once.

You didn’t dare look at him.

“Perhaps if you become my advisor, I will be able to see you more often,” he pondered, staring up at the ceiling. He was lying next to you, in a pile of blankets of pillows, arms crossed behind his head. You played your harp quietly, not wanting to disturb his thoughts too much.

“You want to spend more time with me?” You asked quietly, astounded. You weren’t exactly an incredibly interesting person.

“Of course. You’re intelligent too, so it’s not like you’d give me terrible advice. The position wouldn’t just be for show,” he added at the end, looking up at you, before resuming his study of the ceiling.

“I do not believe commoners can become royal advisors. Or should, in the very least,” you said, trying to continue your concentration on your playing. You plucked a few wrong notes as the conversation continued. He didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s possible, and it’s not like you have to be a vizier or anything. That’d only happen if I became pharaoh, which would only happen if my older brothers died, which they hopefully do not,” he said, continuing on to describe what your life would be like if you became his advisor. You had a thought, but waited till he finished his spiel.

“My prince, is it not a bit redundant for you to have an advisor? You’re not making any political decisions, and-“

“Think of it more as a personal assistant,” he interrupted, looking up at you hopefully. You sighed tiredly, but nodded. He was quiet for a while after that, so you could continue playing in peace.

You were informed the next day that your job had been changed from ‘stress reliever’ to ‘personal servant/advisor,’ and that your quarters would be moved nearer to the princes’. It was quite the step up in the world, which was the last thing you needed, but the prince seemed to think otherwise. You were treated with an ounce more of respect, and at first you weren’t sure what to do with it, and your confusion only got worse throughout the day.

Apparently, when you’re someone’s personal servant/advisor (a job that has never existed before) you have to accompany said person everywhere they go. This included meetings, meals (where you weren’t allowed to eat), as well as important openings, surveying building and planting, and a good amount of educational programs.

Overall, a very tiring day, and you were very much ready to collapse when the moon finally shone.

You accompanied the prince back to his room, wondering how he kept his energy up. You quickly answered the question for yourself, remembering that he’d been doing it his entire life.

He must’ve noticed your state, dragging behind him but keeping your posture up despite.

“Are you alright Nour?” He asked, stopping and turning around to face you. You quickly nodded, trying to keep your eyes open. He looked doubtful however, eyeing you suspiciously.

“You don’t have to play for me tonight if you are this exhausted,” he comforted, resting a hand on your shoulder and trying to give you a sincere look. You didn’t look at him, still too afraid. Especially now, in public, with his hand on your shoulder, where anyone could see.

“I am able to play,” you said, shaking your head a bit, trying to clear out the drowsiness. He continued looking at you skeptically, but allowed you to enter his room, you once again taking your harp from its’ case. He sat in his new pile of pillows and blankets, closing his eyes, and losing himself in your playing. You blinked slowly, feeling a warm, fuzzy blanket come over your thoughts. Despite this you continued playing, trying your best to concentrate. Unfortunately you must’ve made some mistake, because you felt a hand on your wrist, and a voice penetrating the warm blanket that had come over your eyes.

“Nour, go to sleep,” he said, and you opened your eyes, your consciousness falling immediately into his warm and worried eyes. The whole world still felt fuzzy, as though you were half in a dream, the only thing fully grounding you being his hand around your wrist.

“I can play,” you said thickly, the words sounding as though they came from far away, but reverberated in your empty chest.

“No you can’t-“

You closed your eyes, just to blink, but ended up doing a lot more than that. You fell straight asleep, flopping forward onto the prince’s shoulder… unfortunately.

When you awoke, it wasn’t your assigned room. You then quickly remembered that you had moved rooms the day before, settling your worries. You were then further worried when you realized you did not own a golden vase, and the blankets you were given certainly weren’t this soft. You sat up quickly, feeling dizzy.

“Good morning,” the prince said with a soft chuckle, smiling at you from his bed. You felt about ready to throw up.

“D- did I fall asleep?” You asked hurriedly, ready to apologize as soon as he confirmed.

“Yes, but it’s not a problem,” he said, stopping you before you started. You gaped at him, horrified.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You asked, instead of screaming. His eyes widened, glancing sideways as his cheeks darkened. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. You blinked again. Were you seeing this right?

“… I didn’t want to wake you,” he admitted quietly, head dangling embarrassed between his shoulders. You took a deep breath, trying to fully understand the situation.

“Okay. So… you let me sleep in your room all night… because you didn’t want to wake me up?”

He paused before answering.

“… Yeeeesss?”

You got up, dusting yourself off. You waved good bye to him silently, smiling awkwardly, ready to leave.

“Wait, don’t go,” he entreated, his hand moving towards you, still against his bedsheets. You turned to him slowly, practically shaking. You looked him up and down, deciding this was a terrible idea, before turning to leave once more.

“Please,” he murmured, his entire body pleading. You took a deep breath, looking at your feet. A feeble attempt to gather your thoughts. You couldn’t directly disobey him. It was bad enough that you turned away the first time - you didn’t think it possible for royalty to say please, or beg the way he practically was. So you turned back around, looking at him exhausted once more, before walking towards him, standing beside his bed. He smiled brightly up at you, the tenseness in his body completely evaporated.

“You glow perfectly in the morning sun,” he murmured, grabbing your wrist, before venturing up further to your arm. You nearly instinctively pulled away, fear coursing pain through your blood, but you stayed put.

“Inappropriate,” you chided quietly, highly embarrassed.

“I know,” he winked at you, smiling cheekily. You took a deep breath, nearly rolling your eyes.

“Do you know how to ride a chariot?” He asked you out of nowhere, still smiling up at you like you were a dream.

“No, I have no desire to,” you said, knowing that if it were time to fight for your pharaoh, you would physically be unable to fight. Thus, most likely you’d be put on different duty, like planning, or meal prep. The prince, however, looked a bit saddened.

“That’s a shame. I’m going riding today, if you wish I could teach you,” he suggested, tugging your arm lightly.

“Thank you for the offer, but I will stay here instead.”

He offered once more, and you once more declined. Leaving it at that, he redressed into looser clothing.

You stayed in your room for the time he was gone. There wasn’t much for you to do, and you had to stay on call in case someone needed you, so you mostly tried to write new songs. Still slightly new at it, the songs were a tad plain, but you were getting better.

When the sun was near set in the sky, you received a knock at the door. You quickly got up, and a soldier informed you that the prince had returned, and was requesting you in his chambers. You acknowledged, packing your harp up and heading down long hallways to his room.

You knocked, which was met with a small ‘come in.’ When you opened the door, the prince was sitting on his bed as usual, with a large, deep scuff mark on his cheek. You nearly dropped your instrument, staring at the red and black mark.

“No need to be surprised,” he smiled, before wincing and returning to a straight face.

“My prince, doesn’t that need attending to?” You had to physically stop yourself from walking over, digging your nails into the flesh of your leg.

“It’s alright. I fell off the chariot,” he explained, laughing as he thought back. He twitched slightly from pain, letting his face fall again.

“You should clean it in the very least,” you suggested, setting your instrument on the floor. You turned to the door, ready to fetch some water and a cloth.

“You worry too much,” he said as you left, fetching a tight basket of water and an old but clean cloth. You returned a few moments later, setting the supplies on his bed where he sat. He looked at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly. You fidgeted, muscles twitching as you tried to stay calm.

“If you’re so worried, you should do it,” he closed his eyes, ready for you to clean him, “I doubt you’ll accept anyone else doing it.”

You sniffed indignantly, a little ashamed and a little embarrassed. More embarrassed than anything. Nonetheless, you dipped the cloth into the clean water, wringing it out once you pulled it out. You dabbed at his skinned cheek and jaw, trying to make sure it didn’t hurt. The mark reached to his ear, behind the lower part of his crown. You thought of asking him to move it, or moving it yourself.

“Um, my prince, could you remove your crown?” You finally asked hesitantly, still trying to removed the dirt from the visible mark on his cheek. When you removed the rag he nodded, taking off the golden ornament and setting it on the bed. Biting your lip you took a deep breath, once more setting to clean the rest of the scuff.

Finally you dropped the cloth into the water, setting the basket on the floor.

“Done?” He asked, smiling pleasantly at you. In a minute motion you nodded, turning quickly away. You bent down by your instrument, getting ready to play for him once more.

He stared at you for a while as you played, his face straight and his emotions unidentifiable. It put you on edge, as most of the time he was rather see-through. You kept playing despite your worries.

As night came, he did not tell you to stop. You were starting to get a little tired, but you continued playing diligently. The sounds outside the room subsided, silence enclosing the space around and between you and the prince. He shuffled on the bed, lying down, his eyes closed in deep thought.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he said, piercing soft silence that had lasted so long before. In your shock you struck a wrong string, the dissonant sound making you curl in on yourself. However, you didn’t find yourself too surprised - his actions indicated he had to have felt something different with you.

“I am aware,” you said quietly, picking up another piece. You steadied your hands, trying to play the right chords once more.

“In that case,” he said, clearly annoyed at your passiveness, “you should also know I am free to marry who I wish, and I want to marry you.”

He stood, legs swinging off the bed and waltzing over to you. He grabbed your wrist, stopping your playing and pulling you upwards. Your harp shifted, falling to the ground, softened by the pillows surrounding you.

“I want to marry you,” he repeated softly, breath hot against your face. He leaned in close to you, his eyes hooded, desperate for you to just touch him.

“I can’t,” you said hurriedly, the words coming from pure instinct. You felt your hands shaking in his grasp, terrified by the whole situation.

“Why?” He whispered, face contorted near tears. You hummed uncomfortably, a meager sound in automatic reaction to his sadness.

“I have to go,” you rushed out, ripping yourself from his grasp and running out the door.

Why did this keep happening?

Your tiresome night was not to come to an end, as you ran into someone in the hallway. You fell to the ground from the impact, profusely apologizing to whoever it was you hit.

“Aren’t you that servant my brother’s traipsing around with?”

Fuck, this must be the prince’s eldest brother.

You did not meet his eyes, instead keeping your body in a bowed position.

“Yes, my prince, he has requested it,” you answered obediently.

“You’re rather acquiescent, aren’t you? Such a small thing,” he commented, and you felt his stare on the back of your neck, harsh and cruel. He pressed two fingers to the back of your bowed head, pushing you so you looked upwards at him. Out of fear, you allowed him to move you as he wished.

This was your first meeting with the brother you’d heard so much about, and he was nothing like the prince. His eyes pierced you, emotionless and senseless. It made you long for the warmer, welcoming man you had run from.

“Hm. When I become pharaoh,” he spoke as royalty should; proud, and succinct, “I should make you serve me instead. Most of the servants I get are defiant and rude. You’d be quite the change.”

“Yes, my prince,” you said, too afraid to say anything else. Too scared to mention the fact that the prince that currently owned you would not give you up very easily.

Distantly you heard feet running down the hallway, halting before you and the older prince.

“Kahmuh,” you heard him say, voice practically unidentifiable with the vindictiveness in it.

“Ah! Brother, here’s your, uh, thing,” he said, flicking your head towards his brother. After, the older prince turned and left, his stride confident and domineering. The younger rushed to you, kneeling in front of you.

“Did he hurt you?” He grabbed your face, turning it and inspecting for wounds and marks.

“No,” you mumbled, looking down. He was so human compared to his older brother.

“Did he say anything to you?” He inched closer, looking worriedly at you. His hands moved to your shoulders, gripping them tightly.

“He said that… he wanted me to be his servant when he becomes pharaoh, because I’m obedient,” you said hesitantly, hoping that the prince wouldn’t do anything rash in retaliation. Instead he grimaced, and you watched as his muscles tensed.

“If only he knew you’re the exact opposite of that. You just follow rules. You won’t bend them, not for me, and definitely not for him,” he said, his tone bordering on venomous. He helped you up, patting the sides of your arms awkwardly once you stood.

“Spend the night with me?” He asked haltingly, giving you a look of it’s alright if you say no.

“You know I can’t do that,” you answered quietly, hoping to convey that maybe, you wished that you had the confidence to bend the rules just slightly.

“I’ll walk you back to your room,” he said, ceasing all contact with you.

“Do you know where my room is?” You asked, walking beside him, instead of behind.

“Uh… no,” he answered shyly, laughing quietly. You smiled cordially at him. The walk to your room was silent, a few people flitting by but besides that, lonely.

“Thank you, my prince,” you bowed your head respectively, before turning to open your door. He held your hand, keeping you there as he spoke.

“You’re welcome… my love,” he answered gently, letting your hand slide out of his.

You stood outside your door, dumbfounded as he left, watching as he disappeared around a turn.

My love?

+

Four more full moons passed. Overall, you must’ve been working for him for seven moons, which was quite a while, looking back. A few days ago the Pharaoh and his Queen had announced that the throne would have to be passed soon. You gave them around a year to actually hold to their statement.

It was to your surprise that, a few days later, the Queen called you to her quarters. You had been playing for the young prince, when a messenger directed you away. You bid a quick good bye to the prince, heading where the messenger took you.

Her room was larger, shared with her husband, who was not present. It was only her, pacing back and forth in her room, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

“Harpist, good,” she said, upon noticing you, directing you inside. She sat you on a chair, and you thanked her.

“What do you think of Ahkmen?” She asked you, finally stopping her pacing, looking directly at her.  You kept your eyes on her feet, always remembering your place.

“He is a kind man, overtaken with emotion and confused, but that is expected of someone so young. He’s benevolent and wise beyond his age,” you answered, attempting to summarize your observations of him over the past half year.

“You’ve met my other son, correct?” She asked you, and she began pacing again. You confirmed. At this point you’d met him a few times, none of the meetings being entirely pleasant. He seemed to favour you though, which you hoped would continue. You still had a thing about dying.

“What do you think of him?”

You swallowed. Would you really dare speak ill about a woman’s son, especially a queens’?

“He is brave, and well, succinct. He knows what he wants and he achieves it. He’s ambitious and also overtaken with emotion, though the emotion is… not kindness,” you ended hesitantly, starting to fidget just like the Queen was.

“I know you are a commoner. My youngest son has told me about you, and he says you follow rules and tradition no matter what someone of higher power says. But now, I need you to be honest with me,” she kneeled before you, looking you directly in the eyes.

This had to be incredibly important, for her to kneel, let alone in front of you.

“Who is fit to be king?”

Your mouth fell open. You weren’t qualified to answer this. Was the fate of the entire kingdom resting on you now?

“My Queen, is it not appropriate for the eldest to take the throne?” You asked quietly, knowing the answer already.

“Yes, but… Kahmuh has been doubtful in all essence of the word. He is violent and rash, he does not think over his decisions. If it were a choice the obvious choice is Ahkmen, however it isn’t right. It’s never happened before, so I thought the advice of a commoner might be of some use.”

“Your youngest son would be the best choice,” you said. Given the choice, you’d choose him every time.

“You don’t think the citizens will be outraged?”

“I suppose you could… lie, if you’re worried about it,” you suggested, choosing your words carefully.

“What kind of lie could you or I come up with that would soothe their worries?”

“Could say that the Gods chose him. Which is technically true,” you added that at the end, seeing her eyes widen with horror. She took a deep breath.

“You’re right. You’re very wise for a commoner. Dismissed,” she said, standing up. You bowed, thanking her for the time spent with her, and left.

When you returned to the prince’s room, he asked what she needed you for. You thought about telling him the truth, but instead you lied, saying that she was simply checking up on how her son was feeling through the person spending the most time with him. He believed you, and you resumed playing your music.

“Why can’t you marry me?” He asked you, lying next to you in his large splay of blankets and pillows. You sat on the edge of his cushioned area, a blanket to soften the floor for your knees.

“It is prudent to marry within your social class,” you muttered, voice quiet as you still tried concentrating on the task at hand.

“In that case, do you wish for me to marry my brother?” He laughed, before sticking his tongue out and gagging.

“Please don’t,” you chuckled.

“I’d still like you to know that since I’m not becoming Pharaoh, I can marry whomever I want,” he teased, poking you in the shoulder. You rolled your arm back, shaking him off. You thought back to what the Queen had said - if she was to give you credit and follow through your advice, he would be Pharaoh, and that’d be a big problem.

“You can’t assure that you won’t have to become Pharaoh some day,” you said quietly.

“Are you planning on killing my brother?”

“Not yet,” you gritted under your breath. He laughed, rolling onto his side. He stared up at you, a subconscious smile on his face.

“My love, you mustn’t worry. He will become king, not I, and I will be able to marry whomever I please, and whomever I please will be you,” he still smiled at you, sure that he was correct. “As long as you’ll have me,” he added quietly after a beat of silence. You cautiously nodded, aware that while he valued your opinion and input, he could simply force you to marry him. Though knowing him as well as you did, you didn’t think him capable of something like that.

“I don’t think I’m fit to rule,” he sighed a few moments later, letting his hands intertwine behind his head to cushion him. You gave him a quizzical look, silently requesting for him to continue his thought.

“I’ve never been good with fast decisions, and as you might’ve realized I’m terrible under pressure,” he said very matter-of-fact like, sighing dejectedly as he finished. “I’m just not fit to rule.”

“Given the opportunity and right people, anyone with a kind heart and brave soul is fit to rule,” you hummed, letting your fingers pop more gracefully as they plucked the strings.

“That would mean you’re fit to rule,” he said offhandedly, rolling his shoulders back.

“Afraid not, my prince. I’m a coward in my soul,” you laughed, but it was partially true. You’d never break a single rule.

“Perhaps so. You’re not willing to break a rule that isn’t even real, but your kindness more than makes up for it. Besides, with how pretty you are, I’d let it pass,” he casually flirted with you. He was beginning to do so often, and with increasing smoothness. It seemed as though he was really coming out of the shell you really wish he’d go back into.

“Uh - thank you, my, uh, prince,” you stammered. “Do you have any plans for your birthday?” You quickly changed the subject.

“My parents are throwing another party, not much else. I would very much love it if you attended.” He looked up at you expectantly.

“Of course, my prince. I was the harpist at your last birthday, I would be happy to reprise my role.”

“No, I meant as my… partner. My plus one.”

You paused, thinking over the implications if you were to arrive with him, as his equal.

“Who will play harp then?”

“We’ll find someone else, though they won’t be as good as you, I would prefer you to stay at my side,” he said, sitting up and turning to face you. Your skin burned, nerves tingling as you imagined events of the night playing out. You’d probably be expected to do a lot of things you weren’t raised to do.

“Please, my love?” He wrapped his hand around your wrist gently, and his calm demeanor seeped through the contact he made with you.

“… Of course, my prince.”

+

Two months had passed since that eventful day, where you’d learned that the Queen was doubting her older son, and that you were to attend a royal party as a guest, not an employee. The prince had done to the best of his abilities, as much as he could to soothe your nerves. You hadn’t told him about your anxiousness surrounding the event, but it was easy for him to pick up on it. To help you, he educated you on the different replies to various things. You’d mainly learned that staying silent and by his side would make people avoid talking to you. After all, if you stayed with him, most people would be too enamored with him to notice you, and if they did, they’d probably ask the prince who you were and not you. After a few days of his etiquette training, you’d felt a little better.

Around evening when you and the prince retired to his room, he had been called up for a surprise meeting. You were instructed to stay in his room, so you did, tuning your harp and waiting for him to come back.

He did, a long while later, his shoulders drooping and eyebrows furrowed.

“Nour,” he sighed, rubbing his face as he walked forward. He came in front of you, bending to his knees before planting his face in your shoulder. His arms came around you, tired and slow, but tightly encircling your waist.

“My prince?” You questioned awkwardly, unsure of where to put your hands.

“They’re thinking of breaking the rules. Of giving me the throne,” he whimpered, voice muffled by your body.

“That can’t be so awful,” you murmured, ultimately deciding to rest your hand on his back and head.

“I can’t marry you,” he partially whispered, pressing himself into you further.

“Oh,” was all the tiny sound you could muster. Was that really what he was worried about?

The two of you stayed intertwined on his makeshift nest of blankets and pillows. You, with your heart beating straight out of its’ hole, and him, with his face pressed tight against your body, crying ever so slightly. It gave you time to think of a plan.

“I might regret telling you this, but I have an idea,” you started off slowly. He didn’t move, or make any noise, so you continued.

“You could marry me now,” you said, feeling much more stressed and yet less anxious with the thought now in the open. Open for judgement, yes, but also for accepting, and which one terrified you more you did not know.

He removed himself from you, mouth slightly parted and wide eyed. He then knitted his eyebrows together, cocking his head to the right.

“You’d do that?” His tone was quiet and uncertain, unbelieving and a half whisper.

“If you married me now and you or I decided that it wasn’t a thing we wanted, we could later divorce. However if you let your father announce you as Pharaoh before we are married, it would not be allowed. It’s simply…” you trailed off, unsure of where you were headed.

“The logical decision, to help with my stress?” He smiled shyly. You laughed awkwardly, and nodded.

He leaned forward, looking like he was about to kiss you. Instinctively you pushed him away, heart beat increasing once more.

“It’s just a place holder. Nothings changed. I still don’t think I should even be looking at you,” you quickly relayed to him, hoping to make him realize that you didn’t want to act married.

“Alright. I will kiss you one day though,” he reminded you with a teasing lilt, raising your hand to his mouth, kissing you with a touch that was barely there.

“It appears you already have,” you replied, thinking back to the many times he’d kissed your hand. You knew it to be a sign of utmost respect, and it had confused you when he first did it. Now, you were far more accustomed to it, though you still didn’t approve of it. You supposed he had a right to whomever he respected.

Three days later, he’d convinced you that it was okay to tell his parents. You were hesitant for obvious reasons, but he assured you there wouldn’t be harsh consequences. Unfortunately, he wanted you to be there when he broke the news.

So you stood behind him, shaking, going into a mild cardiac arrest.

“We’re married. It was my idea,” he started with, which was very outright, and you wanted to berate him for that.

“… Married?” His father confirmed. You hadn’t ever spoken to him before, but he had a commanding voice. He, like his eldest son, had a posture, an air about him that simply made him fit to rule.

The prince nodded. His parents exchanged looks, before their eyes fell on you.

“You are?” His father asked, eyes burning your skin.

“My name is Nour. I was the harpist for many of your parties. I have been the youngest princes’… stress reliever,” you answered, attempting to be succinct. You kept your head down, a sign of submission and respect.

“Oh, you were his whore?”

You spluttered, face turning red as you made flabby attempts at defending yourself.

“No, father, Nour has helped me to calm down through music… not, uh, sex. Nour won’t let me touch them,” the prince stepped in to defend you, and at the same time, completely discredited your claimed marriage.

“You two wish to be married, yet you’ve never touched each other? Just, holding hands?”

The Pharaoh seemed confused. He turned to his queen once more, before looking at the two of you again.

“I’m very adamant that I not be touched until marriage. It is a simple personal preference,” you said quickly, coming up with the explanation on the fly. You begged to whomever would listen that it would suffice. Still your eyes were trained on his feet, simply to avoid accidentally meeting his eyes. Despite this you saw him shrug helplessly, waving his hand at his son.

“Alright then, whatever. Why are you telling me this then? Do you want a celebration?”

“Y-“ The prince started, being promptly interrupted by you.

“We’d prefer to keep this quiet for a little bit,” you quickly requested, still keeping your head down. The Pharaoh grunted something, dismissing you quickly. The prince grabbed your shoulders, rushing you out of the throne room and down a quiet hallway. It was open, with large pillars replacing a wall, allowing you to see the city.

“Before you ask, I thought it would be best to have a celebration when we actually get married, if we do,” you told him, which made him finally stop pushing you ahead. He pushed you into a wall, trapping you between his arms. For a moment you were scared, but he was smiling for some reason.

“I care what you believe more than anything, but for right now, I don’t care. We’re married,” he laughed, pressing his forehead to yours. He looked elated, and it made you scared, but it also made love rush beneath your fingertips, spritzing out in the form of a desperate need to touch him.

He reacted before you did, leaning in as slow as he could, still smiling. As he neared your lips, you caught onto a rather scandalous idea.

“Oh my prince, what are you playing at?” You asked coyly, giving him a coquettish grin. For a split second you saw confusion paint his face. You grabbed his wrist, pulling him back into the wall. You switched places with him, pinning him to the wall. There was the unfortunate bit where you were quite a bit shorter than him, but his knees buckled beneath him, bringing him lower than you. Mimicking some of his first actions against you, you pressed two of your fingers beneath his chin, moving him so he looked you in the eyes.

His eyes were wide, staring into yours with happy anticipation. You could almost see him mentally devouring up the attention you were giving him.

“We both know it goes like this,” you whispered, words dripping with amorously inviting intentions. He seemed to melt further into you, smiling with a blissed out look. You were sure if you simply left him like that, he’d only find you more inviting.

So you did.

You ceased all contact all at once, leaving him breathing heavy with wide eyes. You smiled innocently at him, and continued down the hallway. A few minutes later, he finally caught up with you, looking embarrassed but more professional.

“Nice play my love, but I’ll get you someday,” he whispered into your ear, still walking behind you. You just let out a giggle, wondering if he really had it in him.

“Of course, my prince,” you smiled at him.

The two of you returned to his room, feeling much less stressed about the whole situation. However, he asked that you not play the harp. Instead he wanted to simply sit with you, and you agreed as if you had any other option. He led you to the nest of pillows and blankets you were both too familiar with, sitting you down across from him.

“I could write endless poetry about you,” he said dreamily, leaning in and taking your hands. You flushed red, attempting to stammer out a reply.

“Uh- um, t-thank you? I’m hardly deserving,” was what you got out, not meeting his eyes out of embarrassment.

“Nour, you must realize that at this point you are my equal. You can look at me,” he lifted his hand to your cheek, pulling you back to face him, “and you can touch me.”

This was true. Now the only thing stopping you was your own inhibitions, and to you, it felt like enough. When for a few moments you did nothing, he sighed, dropping his head onto your shoulder.

“Whatever you wish, my love,” he murmured, falling back and away from you.

Before you fully knew what you were doing, you pulled him back, sitting yourself in his lap. He looked surprised, staring at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you ran your hand through his short hair, your heart rate increasing as he continued staring at you.

“My love?” He asked in a hushed voice, full of tension, and yet excitement as well.

“My prince,” you responded, your voice holding the utmost reverence and adoration. Once more his hand came to rest on your cheek. He eased you closer, letting you follow his hand of your own accord. It seemed incredibly like him to allow you to take control in such a situation as this.

At long last you relaxed in his touch, melting into his hand with a sigh and closed eyes. You heard him chuckle just slightly, felt him leaning in and felt his nose press into your cheek.

He was letting you make the final move.

You did just so, moving forward not even a centimeter before you felt his lips upon yours.

The tension in your muscles, the tension that had been there since the moment you stepped foot in the palace, faded away. The longer he stayed there, moving his lips against yours, the more anxiety faded away, being replaced by unending need and laudation. The fondness you felt for him consumed your entire being, burning in your blood and electrifying your movements against him. Your hands found a resting place on his shoulders, pulling him ever closer to you. Everything else besides him felt numb, your senses existing only to feel him.

He sunk deeper into you, hands coming beneath your shawl. You leaned away, landing you on your back with him above you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to land soft, open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“You’ve mentioned that,” you breathed out, eyelids fluttering shut as he worked away. You felt out of place, confused, and unsure of where to put your hands. Ultimately he took charge, holding your hands in his and holding them above your head. His fingers threaded into yours, and he came up to kiss you upon your lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you are,” you said as he removed himself from you, sitting on his knees. You followed his actions, coming close to him, settling your hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m not sure how,” you gave him a curious look, “but you seem to glow, whenever I see you.”

“That’d be the moonlight,” he teased.

“I think it’s actually just you,” you murmured, leaning in for another kiss. He hummed pleasantly, chasing after you when you tried to pull away.

“I’ve hesitated to say this until now but I truly love you. I’m sorry I haven’t said it before, I -“

“Was following the rules?”

“Yes,” you said in a hushed voice, hoping he’d understand. He shifted, moving his body so you could sit in his lap, before pulling you into him.

“I know. I admire you for it, you’ve got quite the tenacity to disobey orders just to obey rules,” he smirked, teasing you. You giggled quietly, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

Finally, everything felt correct. Maybe it was just because you might’ve been a massive prude, but there was the fact that if you were a massive prude, you would’ve waited until a wedding celebration to kiss him. So maybe you were just an avid rule follower. Either way, this time it felt right to touch him, so you did just that.

It was the first time you spent the night with him, both of you asleep in his bed.

Surprisingly, not much changed. Per your request his parents had not told anyone, so no one treated you differently than they had before. A small part of you appreciated that, and the other parts didn’t especially care. Planning for the young prince’s birthday celebrations continued, with you sometimes included in such planning.

Despite recent events you were still nervous about being his ‘plus one.’ It would be making a statement, something you never liked to do, though the statement was more on his behalf, not yours. Nighttime was often the only peace you got, what with daytime being hectic and stressful. Most evenings you played for the prince, whom you still referred to as the prince in your head. Usually out loud, as much as it bothered him. You’d get there eventually, you told yourself.

Sometimes he’d sit behind you, playing with your hair, landing soft pecks on the back of your neck. It was incredibly distracting for your playing and incredibly welcome by your heart.

“I love you,” he said, a thing he often said simply to remind you. When you were feeling especially shy, you’d reply, “I know.” However, during your more normal or confident days, you’d respond, “I love you too.” You had a feeling he preferred the latter.

“How are you feeling? I know there’s been a lot going on,” he asked quietly, threading your hair between his fingers. He tugged at it every now and then, and you wondered if he was trying to braid it.

“I’ve been alright. I got measured today for my clothes, for your party,” you told him in a calm murmur. The quiet moments you shared seemed to be the only time there weren’t voices yelling in your ear.

“Do you like the design?” He asked, tugging at your hair before releasing it.

“I didn’t see it,” you said with a soft laugh, stopping your music for just a second before resuming. He kissed just below the ear as you began, causing you to miss the chord entirely.

“Your affections ruin my playing.”

“Isn’t that the best way to ruin it?”

“There’s better ways.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around your stomach. He pulled you away from your harp, dragging you into his embrace. You smiled, relaxing into his arms. Your harp, luckily, landed on a bed of pillows.

“I love you,” he murmured against your hair, kissing your head.

“I love you too,” you said, turning up so he could kiss you properly.

+

The celebration was, in your opinion, loud. In your sort-of husband’s opinion, it was joyous. The food was wonderful, you did admit, a good chunk of dessert being made out of sweet honey. Too many people for your taste, just the right amount for his taste, and too little for his parents’ taste. The entire time you sat by his side, people gave you odd stares, but said nothing. His parents didn’t say a word, but greeted you with a curt nod, which was a lot more than you were expecting.

“To the eighteenth birthday of the new Pharaoh, Ahkmenrah!”

The entirety of the table that stretched from one end of a very long hall to the other end of the very long hall raised their glasses. Wine sloshed within the cups, sometimes pouring onto the table. You raised yours careful not to spill. You hadn’t drank that much anyway.

As the hands lowered all took a sip or gulp from their drinks, and promptly after that, the Prince turned Pharaoh collapsed onto the ground. The chalice in your hand crashed onto the table as you knelt hastily by his side, turning him over and shaking him, desperately trying to get him to wake up. Your fingers tingled with pin pricks, all the blood rushing to your head and thumping loudly like the drumbeats of the reaper.

He was carried away from you, and in your own misery you missed the calamity. When you returned to yourself, aware of your own body, you found yourself still kneeling on the floor of the dining hall. It was empty save for a few servants cleaning up the table, and Ahkmenrah’s parents. You felt an empty hole in your torso, as if someone had plowed a log straight through your body.

His father set a hand on your shoulder, telling you to get up and stay by his side. You obeyed without question.

You sat by his bed, grasping his hand. Healers stood on the other side of the bed, putting some sort of ointment into his mouth.

With sluggish movements his head turned to you, lips purple and cracked. His eyes seemed to sink into his skull, eyelids blinking slow and red.

“My love,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and cracking under the light pressure. You kissed his knuckles, holding them tighter.

“You’ll be alright, my prince,” you assured him, glancing up at the healer as you said this. He made a small shrug motion, giving you a worried look.

“No I won’t. Don’t… worry, about me? Don’t worry,” he said to you, trying to raise his arm to your cheek. He couldn’t bear the strain, so you leaned down, pressing your cheek to his open palm. The edges of his lips turned up slightly, smiling as much as you assumed he could physically stand.

The healer left the room, coming back a few minutes later with his parents.

“It’s poison,” he informed them quietly in the corner of the room. His mother gasped, hands coming up to cover her mouth. Your mouth automatically fell open, eyes widening in worry as you looked back down at the prince.

“Your brother,” you said, knowing it must’ve been him. No one else hated him, at least not as much as his brother did.

“I know,” he murmured, trying to swallow. It hurt him, you could tell by the way his eyes closed and his brows knitted tightly together as he winced.

“I will -“

“Don’t. It’s not your job. He will be brought to justice, not by you.”

You nodded, gripping his hand tighter.

“My love,” he rasped out, “be at peace, for I am at peace.” His lips barely moved before he lay still. His eyes remained open, and his head relaxed towards the ceiling.

You numbed entirely. Your hands went cold, and his hand dropped from your cheek with a graceless thump.

And he lay still.

And he did not move, not for hours, not until people moved his body for him, moving him away from both his parents and your eyes. You stayed, kneeled next to his bed for longer than you knew.

Publicly you weren’t married to him. Publicly you were his servant, and that meant you could be buried with him, whether you wanted to or not. You weren’t sure what you preferred.

You didn’t get the time to think it through. He was buried, and his brother became King in his stead. True to his promise, he kept you as his servant. You weren’t allowed to be buried with the prince, and for a while, you served the Pharaoh well. For a long while, and many moons passed before you couldn’t bear more.

It wasn’t until grief consumed you that you changed your situation. His parents had died months back, and whether they were murdered or not you didn’t know. They got proper burials, alongside their son. The world had nothing left to give you, and the Pharaoh was cruel and unjust. You saw clearly now why his mother seemed so worried. You had originally thought that no one could be as inhuman as he was, and now you were wrong. And now you had to end it.

+

It wasn’t until you died that you awoke again. You’d killed yourself in Egypt, and found yourself awake years into the future, locked inside a half rotted wooden sarcophagus. Besides the tight encasing, the worst part was the dank smell. That had to be expected, after you realized that you had definitely been in that sarcophagus for well over a thousand years, and your wrappings were covered in dust and rot.

To your immense luck it wasn’t pitch black. The wood had rotted through enough to shine small specks of light into your coffin, and due to this whenever you awoke, you could see through to the other world.

You awoke and fell straight asleep and the same time every day. When you awoke, you shifted to a hole, and with your wrappings coming off just slightly below your eye, you saw people. All kinds of people - locked up in glass containers and wearing silly looking clothes. If they weren’t in their own casings they moved around, banging on the glass to be let out. None of them could fully speak, but the throat bleeding screams behind their wrappings was enough to make your blood run cold.

Sometimes, you’d see people not in wrappings, and not encased in glass. They wore dark blue clothing, and they looked old, with pale, white skin.

It made you wonder, very often (when you weren’t panicked about never getting out, and suffering eternity locked away), where you were. You had realized you were in the future, but how? How were you alive? Why were you still in your coffin, and why were you surrounded with glass? Most importantly, how did you wake up?

Ages later you were still in the same place. You lost count how many times you woke up, just to never be released, and fall back asleep. The funniest thing was, you were never tired when you fell asleep. You just did, as though it were instinct.

It was that evening that absolute chaos ensued. Something had happened - there was only one man in dark blue clothing, and he looked frightened. The screams of those around you grew louder, and soon the man was gone with a start.

This pattern of the man running through the room continued for a few more nights before peace came about once more.

A few more nights later, the screaming stopped. Two men spoke together outside in a language you couldn’t understand, but it seemed to be civil, if not worried. One of them got passionate, but was eventually calmed down.

Then a lock clicked.

Fresh air seeped in through the holes of your own prison.

And your lid opened.

You still wore your wrappings, so it was a little hard to see anything. Cloth kept your hands tightly bound to your chest, and when the two men you could barely see noticed that, they helped. Eventually your arms were torn free, quickly followed by the wrappings around your mouth.

You breathed truly, fresh air for the first time in longer than a century. Unfortunately, your eyes were still covered, so it was a bit musty.

“Um,” one man said, mumbling something garbled that you didn’t understand. Hands came behind your head, and for a moment you flinched back, but he slowed. With more care he came up from behind, slowly unwrapping your age old prison.

You blinked as harsh light filled your eyes, cringing away. Before you could fully see arms wrapped tight around you, pulling you out of your casket and holding you tight to a body, clothing and jewelry pressing tight into your skin.

“I - I’m sorry?” Was all you could think to say, eyes finally being able to see. The glass around you was gone, and you saw in full vision the others who were encased. They too were out, some more violent and confused than others, who seemed to also be from Egypt.

“Nour,” he mumbled, a cold sort of crown chilling your cheek. The voice, knowing your name, speaking it with such blessing, sounded too familiar. You tried to form words, but found yourself at a loss for them, resorting to confused mumbles and noises.

Over the mans’ (who was still hugging you) shoulder you saw another man, white skin, younger. Dark hair, strong brow, and looking incredibly awkward. Upon seeing that you noticed him, he waved awkwardly, saying something in another language.

“What’s happening?” You asked weakly, hoping the man who was hugging you understood your language.

“Oh, my love,” he murmured, lips brushing against your neck as he pulled back.

“My prince?”

[buddiebeginz]

My THOUGHTS on Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker SPOILER REVIEW Tessa Netting

I agreed with so much in this video I needed to put down some quotes:

Adam Driver is perfection. The way he acted differently and made us understand and love Ben Solo without saying a single word is incredible. I love that all it took was for Ben Solo to hear that he was loved. Leia calling out to him. Rey telling him that she wanted to take his hand, Ben’s hand. And Han forgiving him and telling him to come back home. Ben Solo running into battle in order to save the woman he loves in his good boy sweater with just a blaster is the most Han Solo shit. 

I love that Reylo is canon. I can’t believe that my crack ship from Force Awakens is canon. What universe is this? God bless.

I love their kiss. I love Ben’s little smile after the kiss.

The lightsaber battles in the sequel trilogy are so much better than any other lightsaber battle.

----

Rey being a Palpatine makes it feel like according to Star Wars women can only be powerful if they’re related to a powerful man. Rey Nobody is a superior Rey. I hate that Luke and Leia knew that Rey was a Palpatine this whole time and were like fine with training her but then they gave up on Ben. You’re telling me that Luke and Leia had more faith in the granddaughter of Palpatine then their own son/nephew. I refuse to believe this. 

Rey should not in anyway feel grateful for being abandoned.

I hate that Kylo fixed his helmet. I couldn’t see Adam Driver’s face and I felt like it was a step backwards in Kylo and Rey’s relationship.

I hate that they didn’t show us the vision of Kylo and Dark Rey on the throne.

I hate that all the Jedi’s were calling out to Rey when Ben was just like in the pit. Like Anakin talk to your grandson.

I hate that Rey and Ben didn’t team up and kill Palpatine together. When they both lifted their blue lightsabers, I was like oh shit here it comes. And then nothing? They just got defeated immediately. And Ben just got thrown into a pit. Why didn’t Rey and Ben the literal “Last Skywalker” rise together. Rise Skywalker. And instead of Rey crossing both lightsabers Rey and Ben cross their lightsabers like they’ve been doing in every single promo image. You think that they’re against each other but them actually crossing their lightsabers in unity.

I hate that Ben didn’t get to say anything to Rey after he was redeemed. He literally had no lines after becoming Ben Solo. He could have at least said be with me when he was putting his life force into her.

I also hate that Rey had no reaction to Ben dying. No one honors him. No one remembers him. No one like even mentions that he died. There is no acknowledgment of his death. Darth Vader got a funeral Ben Solo gets nothing.

I hate that Ben didn’t kill his fellow students at Luke’s Jedi’ academy but you wouldn’t know that unless you read a comic book.

I hate that Rose was completely screwed over, ignored, and written out of this movie.

I hate that Finnpoe was not endgame. I hate that Finn just like screamed after Rey this whole movie. It’s like they erased his whole arc and personality. Finn Rey is busy go talk to your husband.

I hate that Rey’s hair was in buns again.

I hate that this movie felt like two movies crammed into one.

I hate the ending. Rey is not a Skywalker. Why does she say Rey Skywalker?  Why not anything else?  Why not Rey Solo? Han was like a father to her, Leia was her master, Ben was her soulmate. The whole Solo family meant so much to her, so much more than Luke. Or even better just answer Rey. Just Rey.

I hate that at the end of the Skywalker saga all the Skywalkers are dead. Where is the hope? Why am I so sad? I shouldn’t feel sad. This should be like a culmination, a conclusion. And I just hate that this is the last movie. The story doesn’t feel complete for some reason. This doesn’t feel like the end.

I wanted Ben to be redeemed earlier in the movie so that we could have more time with Ben Solo.

I wanted a Ben and Anakin moment.

I wanted Ben Solo to pilot the Millennium Falcon.

I wanted Rey and Ben to have a happy ending.

Ben Solo was named after Leia’s only hope. In TLJ Rey said that Ben Solo was their only hope. Ben Solo is hope. Without that hope like what was the point? Also why does redemption have to equal death? I want to see forgiveness and atonement. Ben over coming his past and making up for it the rest of his life. Seeing him actively make the galaxy better. And love being strong enough save him.

There are so many people that relate to Ben’s story and if you’re feeling like really heartbroken about how he ended up I want you to know that you are worth loving and worth saving. 

[sunflowerbi]

Ahsjdkfkf okay another prompt 😆 15 + 37 (scream 😂) but like one where eve doesn't destroy the 3x03 teddy bear ahsjdjd

OKAY. Look. I did it! This was the fic i posted about losing and then rewriting but i’m okay now because i like this better anyway. it’s very dramatic and the quotes come in EVENTUALLY i swear. it’s like 1.5k words in but i promise it’s cute. thank you again for being a gift to, me, personally, by sending me these prompts so that i can force myself to write something. it’s 1.9k words of absolute yearning and gay. hopefully there aren’t too many mistakes because i am too tired to proofread. (It’s also on ao3 if you prefer! link’s in my pinned post) ((translations for the russian are at the end))

“You sleep with the stuffed animal I got you?” “Of course” + “Keep talking, your voice helps me sleep.”  (Sleepy/cozy prompts) ✨

Villanelle moved carefully around the flat, looking everything over. It was nice enough, emptier now with the loss of Niko’s things. Fewer pictures hung on the walls, and the fridge was barer than it used to be. Villanelle certainly appreciated it, finding she much preferred the flat untouched by a man Eve was clinging to only so she could continue pretending to be “normal.” There were still files covering the coffee table, left open as if Eve couldn’t be bothered wasting time closing them. Villanelle loved that; the way Eve threw herself so entirely into her work, into finding answers. She looked again at the postcard on the counter, her own loopy handwriting scrawled across the card, “See you Monday, darling. xx” It was in the same place Villanelle left it Thursday morning, having been in a rush but desperate to communicate with Eve in any small way. She wondered idly if Eve was avoiding the flat, if she would spend the night at someone else’s place just to prevent this meeting. Villanelle doubted Eve would be able to stave off her curiosity, but if she had learned anything it was that she shouldn’t doubt Eve. She hoped, though, that Eve wanted to see her.

            Villanelle had wanted people before, certainly. Had wanted to touch them, kiss them, even on occasion spend time with them. The way she wanted Eve, though, was different. It was desperate and all-consuming. She’d never wanted someone in that way, still didn’t know what to do with it. She’d learned her lesson, knew that if Eve didn’t want her in the same way she had to let her go, but she hadn’t figured out what she was supposed to do in that case. She had never been scared to lose a person before. She was finding she didn’t enjoy it. She just had to wait, though. Eve would arrive eventually, and Villanelle would convince her that she did, in fact, love her, and that she should give them a chance.

Until then, she entertained herself easily enough, fingers flicking through shirts and pants hung neatly in the closet, frowning as she considered how she could improve Eve’s wardrobe. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy the turtlenecks, it’s just that she thought Eve deserved nicer ones. Some variety wouldn’t hurt, either, but that was an issue for a later date. (Not too much later, hopefully.) She continued moving around the room, her fingers occasionally passing over objects she found to be of particular interest. Villanelle noticed that Eve’s flat was organized much like Eve’s mind. It was cluttered, items placed seemingly without thought, until you saw her move through the area. She had watched Eve move in this space, and everything flowed naturally to her, just as in her brain. Eve’s conclusions rarely made sense to anyone until they heard her explain exactly how she’d made it there, and then they can’t remember thinking anything different. Just as nobody would be able to figure out why Eve kept her lipstick in the living room unless they’d watch her running late for work, had seen her grab one of them and quickly apply it when she caught herself in the mirror, placed by the door for the same reason. Villanelle almost felt guilty for the way she knew this, having watched Eve before dropping the card off, but the bit of knowledge about Eve, the piece of the woman she’d gained, was far too valuable to her. She reveled in knowing things about her, wanted to keep learning things.

For now, though, she could hear the jostling of a key in the lock, and knew it was time for the end of the stage they were in now. She was done with in between, tired of not knowing. Mystery had its appeal, certainly, but the novelty had long since faded and she needed to know that Eve wanted her the way she wanted Eve. So, when Eve opened the door, Villanelle was sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen, looking out towards the hallway Eve was making her way through.

“You know, most people would just call ahead of time, so they know when to swing by, instead of breaking into people’s flats for fun. You’re lucky my neighbors don’t care about me enough to call someone.” Eve said, more exasperated than surprised by Villanelle’s presence in her kitchen.

“Well, I have never been most people, have I?” Villanelle had collected herself, although she heard her voice falter a bit, disliking how she struggled to find her usually cockiness.

“No, you certainly haven’t.”

“I was worried you were avoiding me, darling Eve.”

Eve rolled her eyes as she grabbed two mugs and a random bottle of wine from her refrigerator, “You know, I have a job, I can’t just sit around all day waiting for you to appear in my kitchen.” She poured the wine, handing one to Villanelle, taking a sip from her own.

“I did not mind waiting, I like looking at your things.” Villanelle explained, as if Eve had been worried about inconveniencing her. “I like what you’ve done with the place, getting rid of the mustache’s things. I have some numbers though, people who could help you redecorate. It’s a bit depressing in here, really.”

“Thank you for the advice, really. So, what did you need to talk to me about?” Eve rolled her eyes, “I’d say it must be important if you had to break into my flat for it, but I have a feeling it could’ve been anything and you still would have broken in.”

“I think you are right, but it just so happens to be important. We have done this twice already; do you have a knife? I do not have a gun this time.” She was trying for humor, but found it fell a bit more desperate, more like begging, please don’t let this end like it did before.

“I have plenty in the kitchen, but since I just walked in the door, I haven’t had to chance to grab one, so no. I wouldn’t stab you again, though, even if I did.” Eve pointed out, a small smile crossing her face.

“That is good to know, for what it’s worth I wouldn’t shoot you again either.” Villanelle looked at her feet, suddenly finding her pink toenails to be of much interest. “You kissed me. We were fighting and then you kissed me and then you hit me again.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I do not understand why you would do that. Were you mad at me or not? You hit me a lot, so I thought you were angry with me, since I shot you and all. Then you kissed me, which is not what people usually do when they are mad at someone.” Villanelle hoped that Eve realized she really didn’t understand, that she really wanted to.

Eve breathed out a small laugh, a fond smile on her face, “Of course I was mad at you, V, you fucking shot me. It’s just that when you’re an inch away from me and you look like you, it’s hard to only feel angry. I wanted to kill you, but mostly I just wanted to kiss you, like I should have in Paris.”

“Oh.” It was nearly silent, a realization inaudible to anyone not entirely focused on Villanelle’s every movement.

“I don’t even know if I’m angry anymore. I should be, you tried to kill me. I did it first, though. God, there’s not a minute I don’t regret pushing that knife into you.” Eve reached out without thinking, her fingers lightly touching Villanelle’s scar over the soft black of her shirt, feeling the mangled line she’d put there.

“I love the scar, though. You gave it to me, and I could never hate anything you gave me.” Villanelle placed her hand on top of Eve’s, tracing a finger along the line.

“I would say I don’t understand, but sometimes I catch my scar in the mirror and I’m struck by how much I miss you.” Eve moved their joined hands over to her own scar, flipping hers over Villanelle’s. She traced the line on her chest where it entered, reveling in the physical representation of all that they felt for each other.

“So, you do miss me?”

“Constantly.”

They fell into each other, hands parting only to find their places on hips and cheeks, Villanelle letting one thread into Eve’s hair. The kiss was slow, a welcome home, please stay. Two women desperate to be done with the chase, to pull each other so close they couldn’t be separated anymore.

“Oksana. I love you.” Eve mumbled it, their lips still fumbling against each other.

“I love you. I love you; I love you Eve.” She spoke it like a prayer, her arms pulling Eve impossibly closer. “Say my name again, please.”

“Oksana.” It was whispered this time, Eve falling in love with the way it rolled off her lips. “Oksana, I need you to stay. Please.”

“Of course. I can’t leave you, Eve. Ty moy ray, ty moyo nebo, ty moyo solntse.” They pulled apart, now, gentle pecks pressed against lips as they did.

Eve pulled Oksana towards the bedroom, stripping out of her work clothes as soon as they arrived. She found comfortable clothes for Oksana and herself before falling into the bed. She was in love, and there were so many things she wanted to do. Right now, though, the day had drained her of all she had, and she wanted to sleep with Oksana in her arms.

“You sleep with the bear I got you?” Eve looked over and saw Oksana holding the fluffy pink animal she’d been unable to get rid of, no matter how hard she tried.

“Of course.” Eve smiled, “You gave it to me. How could I ever hate something you gave me?”

Eve tugged Oksana onto the bed, kissing her again.

“I could kiss you forever. I don’t think it would be enough.” Oksana admitted between kisses. She had never been so content, so full of something she’d never experienced but she didn’t think she would stop feeling ever again, not as long as Eve was beside her.

“I hope you’ll try.” Eve ran her fingers down Oksana’s face, tracing the outline of her jaw. “I don’t think I could lose you again.”

“You will not, sweet Eve. I am yours now, forever.”

“We need to sleep. I need to sleep.” Eve whispered, “I can finally sleep now that you’re in my arms.”

“Я хочу́ просыпа́ться с тобо́й ка́ждое у́тро. я хочу спать рядом с тобой навсегда. Ты смысл мое́й жи́зни.”

“Keep talking, your voice helps me sleep. It reminds me that I have you now.” Eve stared into Oksana’s eyes, trying her hardest to pour every bit of love she felt into the look.

“There is a poem, in Russia. I used to read it when I missed you.” Oksana pushed a few loose curls behind Eve’s ear, her fingers taking their time as they traced the outline of her cheek.

“Я люблю тебя здесь и сейчас,

Не тайно - для галочки;

Я горю в твоих лучах - ни до, ни после.

Я не хочу прошлого,

Я не знаю будущего.

Я люблю тебя здесь и сейчас, со слезами и смехом.”

“I love you too, Oksana.” Eve mumbled; her eyelids fluttering shut. As Oksana watched her breathing steady, she felt her own eyes grow heavy, a warm happiness soothing her broken soul.

Russian: 

“You are my heaven, you are my sky, you are my sun”

“I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to sleep next to you forever. You are the meaning of my life.”

Poem is I Love You Now by Vladimir Vysotsky which translates to about:

I love you here and now,

Not secretly - for show;

I'm burning in your rays - neither before nor after.

I do not want the past,

The future I don't know.

I love you here and now, with tears and with laughter.

[silver-wield]

Hi this is not Cloti related but do you have an analysis on Cloud's relationship with Jessie? Particularly during chapter 4 after the bike mini-game? Cloud looks worried

Sorry this took a while, Nonny, I get a bit done in from life lol

So Cloud and Jessie, the girl who absolutely has no issue throwing herself at our boi. It's pretty good for him because at least he gets used to girls being all over him and helps him make his mind up just who he wants to show attention to #cough# Tifa #cough#

Ok, spoiler warning for ppl who haven’t played – do I still need to do this? Eh ok, (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it’s gonna be smol.

Also, this is one person’s interpretation of the scene, so if you disagree that’s cool and we’ll agree to disagree.

You’re also gonna have to excuse the janky quality on some of the screens, I’m grabbing them from Youtube and it’s frustrating af trying to get the exact moment I want.

Please check my master post to see if I've already covered your question, thanx

Let's mosey!

Recap time!

Chapter four and our reluctant hero has been roped into help the avalanche trio go topside. Problem is they missed the last train and have to take their bikes instead. Cue a few problems with security and a meeting with the master of extra, Roche. Once that's out of the way, Jessie rewards Cloud depending on your expertise.

This scene has 3 optional endings.

Quick aside, I find it hilarious that Cloud literally tells Jessie to shut up and get off the bike when she starts annoying him during the minigame.

Ok, ending one. The bad ending where Jessie's beyond disappointed with you. These are hard to pick apart because a lot of Cloud's attention is on the road, so the usual microexpressions are even harder to catch.

But look what I caught anyway! Check that brow quirking like “excuse you?” and it's accurate because he says he's a great driver in the next moment. I really love going over these scenes and spotting all these because they build such a clearer picture of Cloud is as a person. And clearly boi doesn't like his driving ability being questioned, especially seeing how Jessie didn't do squat to help him, aside from being annoying lol

Well, Cloud does seem a bit worried here if the frown is anything to go by. I'm guessing it's because this is the bad ending and as much as he's not into Jessie, he doesn't like people having a bad impression of him. He doesn't like the idea that he's not thought of as the big badass capable merc in all ways, so this could well be hints of that self-doubt coming through. 

Although, after watching the other two endings, this is the only time we see this typical cycle of expressions he does before concluding something. This is what I like to call a real!Cloud inner debate. Cloud often goes through a lot of quick expressions or his eyes dart around. Since they can’t do that here, we get the former. Judging from the frown at the end, he’s not impressed with his own performance and likely berating himself for not being good enough. Again. Someone call a therapist for Cloud, plz.

And moving onto the second ending, which you get if you did ok on the minigame. These are making me wonder which one's canon. I don't think it's the kiss and actually, it may well be the bad one since that's where we get the most facial expression and close ups from Cloud compared to the others where we see the back of his head or a mid range view.

For this scene we only get one close up of Cloud's face and it's pretty much SOLDIER!Cloud and then the next time he speaks you can't even see his face. This is the kind of thing that hints to me which optional scene is the one we're supposed to be getting for Cloud's narrative story (and that I actually forgot about for my playthrough as Cloud lol I got the middle one because I kinda suck at fighting Roche, but I try).

Yeah, so a lot of sighing from Cloud at Jessie, the annoyed kind. I mean, we know she kinda irritates him, but he likes her too, just not in a romantic way. You also don't see his reaction to her “I might be falling after all” line and only hear him say “hmm?” Then when his face is next in frame it's full on SOLDIER, so there's really nothing to pick apart.

And now the good ending where you get a kiss from Jessie! Ooh lala!!

CLOUD'S FACE HERE! OMG I'M DYING! He's such a boi in a man sometimes! Adorable af! Definitely never even had a kiss on the cheek before in his life and look at the ott reaction to it!

WAIT! Wait! I've seen that face before somewhere!

YES OMG I'M DYING! It's the same reaction as the one to Aerith's best dress! OMG!

I'm sorry, I genuinely need a minute....

Ok, so...looool ok....I can be sensible here....maybe loool erm, the unrealistic expression on Cloud's face shows that it's unlikely this is the outcome that happened. But, on the other hand if the red dress happened then so did this kiss, so choose your poison lol

omg I love the devs for this! I really do! This is hilarious! I can’t even look at these two pics without laughing!

Ok, sensible. Kinda. 

And last one where Cloud looks grim af as usual, but with a hint of “what do I do about this?” because Jessie kissed him and he's not interested and he has no clue what to do with women and likely wants to reject her, but still doesn't know what to do with women, so you can see the dilemma he's in lol

It doesn't help when Jessie tries calling him out on it and he has this tiny frown in response. His attention is split between trying to talk to her and driving, so it's no wonder he's not that talkative and abrupt. If I wanted to speculate I'd say if he actually had an interest in her as more than friends he'd have tried harder. He had his little chat with Marle already, so he's not opposed to putting himself out if he wants to. He doesn't here, but he's still trying to concentrate, so that could explain the lack of attention, but still, Jessie kissed him and he got scowly.

Conclusion.

Well, I for one didn't remember there were 3 of these endings – each with their own remix of Jessie's theme, just like another 3 optional scenes with a remixed theme lol the parallels are killing me!

The music for each should also hint at which one is the narrative canon – I'm useless with music analysis so bear with me. The first one does sound like it fits with the other girls' themes, so very simple, easy to listen to in the background and memorable in its way. The second is louder and has more techno notes in, making it seem less like a background piece and more in your face. The last one has vocalists and is a full on pop song! No way is that right lol

For two of the three of these we don't really get much in the way of Cloud's face. It could be put down to him driving, but we get a couple of very good close ups on the bad one with varied expressions, one of which definitely goes towards his personal motivation to be thought of as a hero. Having people point out his faults would cause that kind of reaction.

The second result really doesn't have much in the way of facial expression and Cloud's voice is brisk because he's driving, so I can't really say much about it one way or the other. It’s the one I get the most when I’m playing and it’s kinda blah. Like your standard minigame pass screen. That probably didn’t help.

The last one is hilarious! That's such an exaggerated expression! Do people really believe Cloud pulls that kind of pikachu face on the regular?! I legit needed to stop because I couldn't stop laughing! That's not Cloud or real!Cloud, that's just bloody funny! Also, Cloud doesn't seem too impressed by the result if that last minute frown is any indication. He doesn't want Jessie kissing him, even though it's probably the first time any girl has kissed him – poor sweet summer child lol

If I had to make a guess at the narrative canon I'd say number one, because we know for a fact that Cloud hasn't been driving for years. Boi gets motion sickness ffs! And when did he ever drive a motorcycle? I'd definitely buy that being one of the first times he's ever driven, which would explain why he did so poorly and why he has multiple varied expressions in that result.

[hadestownmodern]

Prompt: The day/night that Eurydice went into labor for the first time. I can only imagine the panic that goes through Orpheus!

Ahhh here you go! Also at request of @songstresstinyteacup

It was not a day unlike any other, nor was it a day like every other. The blistering summer heat brought even the most apprehensive, i.e Eurydice, out to Persephone’s that afternoon.

 The blazing sun had called for the family to gather for Persephone’s pool, an event Junie took to be for her own benefit. 

Persephone noticed, of course, the moment she saw Eurydice that something was..off. Orpheus knocks at the door with a childish grin on his face, hands intertwined with Eurydice’s. He has his swim shorts on and a white tank top, with a liberal coating of sunscreen on his face. 

“Hi!” He hugs his mother figure as he steps into the house, placing his full beach bag on the ground by the door. “Wheres the bug at?” Orpheus inquires as he takes his sunhat off, peaking around the corner just in time for a dripping wet toddler to plow into his legs. 

“Ophie!! ‘Rydice!” Junie screams, wrapping her arms around Orpheus’ shoulders as he scoops her onto his hip. Her tiny body quickly soaks his shirt, water dripping rhythmically from her ringlet curls onto his shoulder. “Swimmin’ time!”

“Juniper, what did I tell you about running around this house wet?” Persephone shuts the door behind Orpheus, looking at Junie with  a hand on her hip. 

“…not to do it? But mama, Ophie’s here!” Junie pouts, sticking her lip out and batting her eyelashes at her mom, a look Orpheus imitates. 

“Yeah mama, Ophie’s here!” Orpheus teases, kissing Junie’s cheek playfully. 

“Yeah, and when she falls on the marble and busts her lip open, Ophie can be the one to hold her as they give her stitches. If her daddy doesn’t kill you first.” Persephone taunts, nudging him with her foot. “Go, i’ll be out soon.”

Orpheus grins as he carries Junie off, listening to her explain her mermaid game she expects him to play in the pool outside. 

“He’ll be a good dad, but it’ll be like having two sometimes.” Persephone muses, throwing an arm over Eurydice’s shoulders. “And how are you feeling, sunshine?”

“Good, tired- oof- ready for her to get out of me.” Eurydice sighs, pressing her hand into her stomach when she felt an odd, not painful just odd, sensation in her side. “I’m gonna stay inside if that’s alright.. It’s too hot for me.”

“I got a whole pool to cool you off, come on.” Persephone argued, but raised an eyebrow at the young woman. “You good?”

Eurydice had paused in the hall, just trying to grasp what exactly she was feeling. She couldn’t put the finger on it, but assumed like so many other aches, it would go away with time. 

“Me? Go into the pool? Yeah, because I want to be an actual whale today. No thanks. My back is really bothering me anyway..i’m gonna enjoy your air conditioning and lay on the couch.” Eurydice promises, though she can’t seem to pull her hand off of her lower back. 

Persephone squints at her, but decides not to jump to conclusions or scare her unnecessarily. “Fine, but Junie might come to bug you at some point. There’s snacks in the kitchen, you know where to find us.”

Persephone leaves Eurydice then, to her place on the sofa. Eurydice knows how it works by now, has done it enough times. Lay on her side, toss a throw blanket over her, and put some mindless television on- Chopped, today- until she drifted into a nap. That seemed like all she wanted to do- nap. 

Eurydice was in her place, trying her hardest to drift to sleep, but unable to ignore the dull ache in her back. She drifts to sleep, when the ache allows. 

Orpheus came in and out to check on her, the wet fringe of his hair dripping into her face when he leaned down to kiss her temple. Eurydice only whimpers in her sleep, hand tightening on the curve of her abdomen. He writes it off as a bad dream, and tucks her throw around her before joining his niece outside again. 

Persephone comes back in next, an hour or so later, and settles in on the recliner across from Eurydice, Junie still in her swimsuit but sleeping against her shoulder. It’s the sound of her humming that wakes Eurydice, who peaks one eye, then two, to watch Persephone. She’s got Junie in a beach towel that is wrapped around her like an infant, holding her to her chest. 

“You should sing more often.” Eurydice muses, sitting up before a grimace spreads over her face. She holds her breath, 1..2.. Then sighs as the pain dissipates a little. 

“I used to sing to Orpheus all the time, where do you think he learned it- are you okay, Eurydice?” Persephone is running a hand over Junie’s back, though her gaze is locked on Eurydice. She files the image away in her head, as she hears her sigh.

“Yeah, my back..like I said, it’s been bothering me all night. It was hard to sleep.” Eurydice sits back against the cushion of the couch and smiles. “So i have you to thank for the music then?”

“…all night? Like it’s been tense all night?” Persephone raises an eyebrow at her, shifting Junie just a little. 

“It’s just a really dull ache. Like I laid wrong and it’s all twisted. It comes and goes, but last night I could sleep a little. Now it is waking me up.” Eurydice runs a hand over her middle, slightly aware of the lack of response from her child. 

“Uh huh…she movin’ a lot?” Persephone raises an eyebrow, watching Eurydice closely. Sure, she only has Junie, but she was around enough pregnant women in her life- hell, had seen enough deliver babies in her childhood home- to know what signs of labor were. 

“Not as much. I think she’s just out of room in there. Watch. We’re all calling it she, and then when I have a boy we’re gonna have to learn quick to change our words.” Eurydice smiles, despite the discomfort she felt. “I think Junie’s right though..I think it’s a girl.”

“Well we’ll find out soon.” Persephone murmurs to herself, before standing abruptly. “I’m going to go back outside… why don’t you go lay in the spare room, baby? Might be more comfortable..” She kisses Eurydice’s head on the way by, a smile reaching her eyes. “You’re gonna need the rest.” She is out the door before Eurydice can react. 

Eurydice nods, though she feels rooted to the couch, as another wave of pain rolls through her lower back. This time, it’s sharper and seems to wrap around her, it has her grasping at the couch as the breath is knocked out of her. 

It’s later, after dinner, that Eurydice joins Perspehone around the island, Orpheus still preoccupied with Junie outside. 

“Get some sleep?” Persephone muses, tossing a grape into her mouth, resting her face on her hand as she addresses the young girl. 

Eurydice, of course, has looked better. She groans as she sits on the chair of the island, short hair pulled into a loose bun ontop of her head, to keep sweat from sticking to her neck. “no..I can’t get comfy. And i’m sweating and I just don’t feel great.” 

Persephone can tell something is wrong when she lays her head on her upper arms, and whimpers audibly this time. She reaches out a hand to rub her arm, which Eurydice reaches out and grabs tightly. She’s shaking as she clings to the older woman, grip deathly right on her hand. 

Within a minute she lets go, and shakes her head. “I’m sorry I just…It gets hard to breathe and think.” 

“I remember.” Persephone says quietly, brushing her fingers over Eurydice’s forehead to brush the hairs out of her eyes. She sits next to her, saying nothing as she just wraps an arm around her. She rubs comforting circles on her back, pressing just enough that it would bring relief if these were any other kind of pain. 

“What do you mean you remember- fuck”

She can feel the way Eurydice’s entire body tenses a few minutes later, when she lets out another small whine. She is impressed with how well Eurydice hides pain, though she supposes she has had a lot of practice. 

When this minute passes, and Eurydice relaxes against her chest, she brings her hand up to wipe the tears away from Eurydice’s eyes. 

“Do you want to tell us that you’re in labor, yet?” Persephone whispers, resting her head on her shoulder. She feels Eurydice tense up,a  different kind of tense this time, as the girl shakes her head quickly. 

“What? I’m not in labor, Persephone, I’m not supposed to have her for two more weeks.” Eurydice is shaking her head faster than she should, and finds a weight settling in her chest making it hard to breathe suddenly. “I’d know if I were in labor.. I’m not ready!”

“Baby, in about four more minutes you’re going to have to believe me. The back pain is all over pain now, isn’t it? And you don’t feel her move during it. And it’s getting harder to take, every time. Baby, you’ve been at this since last night.” She’s still holding her, still running a hand over her arm over and over. “This is happening, Eurydice.”

“No, no it isn’t. I’m not ready to have a baby, i’m not ready to do this. I’m not ready to be in labor!” Eurydice insists firmly, though her body seems to be shaking by its own accord now. “She’s safer inside. I can keep her safe inside. She’ll never be cold or hungry in there. I can’t fail her if she’s safe inside! I need her to stay where she’s safe!”

“She cannot stay in there forever. Eurydice, I don’t think she’ll be in there in twenty four hours from now. Honey…” She places a hand on her cheek, turning her face to look at her. “I know, I know you think she’s better off inside. But I promise, she’s going to be just fine. She’s going to be even better. Because she’s gonna have you, and she’ll see your face and she’ll get to be held by Orpheus and I can promise you that you’ll love her so much- you cannot fail her because you will love her so deeply.” She kisses her forehead, and holds her body against her as she feels Eurydice just collapse against her, clinging to her tightly. 

She counts for her. Down from sixty, before the five minute timer resets in her body. “You cannot keep her in there, she wants to be out. I know, I know it hurts and I know it’s terrifying-”

Orpheus walks into the kitchen, towel around his waist, right as Eurydice relaxes into Persephone’s embrace, body no longer tense for the next five minutes. She sighs loudly, though it borders a cry of relief. 

“Eurydice! Are you…whats wrong?” He’s at her side in an instant, kneeling so they are at the same height. He takes Persephone’s place, holding onto her and brushing hair from her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“She’s in labor, Orpheus.”

“She’s in what?” He has his arms around Eurydice within seconds, frantically looking between Persephone and his almost wife. “You’re in what? But..I thought…are you okay, Rydice?” 

“I’m okay-” She nods, but rests her head against his shoulder, glad to have his arms around her to hold her to the earth she feels like floating away from. “Just hurts..”

“She’ll be a lot better once you get to a doctor. Because I love you both like my own, but you are not giving birth on my kitchen floor. Some things you can never get out of wood, babies being one of them.” Persephone is now pouring herself a glass of wine, as she leans against the ktichen sink. “You need to get to a hospital soon, baby. You’ve got..eh, ninety seconds before you have another contraction.” She gestures to the clock on which her eyes are locked, before drinking all the wine in her glass. “I say you have her by tomorrow morning.”

“How do we get to a hospital! Our stuff is at home! I haven’t even tried to build the crib yet-” Orpheus squeaks when Eurydice’s nails dig into his arms, when her whole weight is being supported entirely by him where they stand. She cries, openly cries, into his chest, overwhelmed with the whole situation. 

“First, you put a shirt on.” Persephone instructs, placing her glass down. “You can take the car, i’ll have Hades call his driver. It won’t take long at all. You won’t need a crib if this kid is anything like Junie. She slept on me until she was two, I promise, she won’t miss out if she doesn’t have a bed yet. I will go to the apartment and grab your things and meet you there later. But you can’t deny it. She’s coming today.”

“What if she’s a boy and we’ve been wrong the whole time!” Orpheus murmurs, though his eyes and arms are around Eurydice, who clings to him with sweat running down her face that is not from the heat. 

“My mama is never wrong. And I don’t think Junie is either.” Persephone comes to them both from around the island, grabbing their hands. “You two are going to be okay, but you have to go. I’ll go get the car.”

“Seph-” Eurydice whimpers, reaching a hand out weakly to her. “Will you come with me?”

“I–” Persephone sighs, squeezing her hand. Of course she wants to be there. Of course she wants to help her. Of course she wants to say yes. “No, baby. This is for you two. I’m not taking this from you. I’ll bring the bag by, and then i’ll see you as soon as she’s here. I promise.”

“Seph-”

She takes each of their hands and squeezes. “Get your shoes on, and get going. I promise, it’s going to be the best day of your life… well. It won’t feel like it Eurydice, but it will be.”

[buckybarnesbingo]

The amazing results of last night’s game, “3 Prompt Summary”!

Everyone threw in three prompts, and then let loose on the prompts and created fanfic summaries based on the prompts!  There are a lot of VERY INTERESTING ideas in this bunch!  

Here’s the first example round...

Prompts from LLightz - soulmates, Steve/Bucky, dog

Summary by @rebelmeg​ - A dog. His soulmark was a dog. Which was no problem, Bucky liked dogs. But... a dog?! A golden retriever with a smiley dog face and a blue collar. Go figure.

The rest are under the cut!  There are a lot of them, and they are so cool!  There’s an amazing mix of characters, prompts, angst, fluff, crack, and everything in between.

Prompts from @magicadraconia - Cloak of Levitation, Stark Expo, butterfly kisses

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - How Strange lost Levi was beyond him. But he assumed it had to do with the smitten Super Soldier and Engineer. Somehow Levi had it in his mind that those two needed some help. So, Strange knowing that they were to be at the next Stark Expo opened a portal. Finding his cloak planting butterfly kisses on Stark's cheek was something he didn't expect at all.

 Prompts from @rebelmeg​ - coffeeshop AU, glitter, Sam Wilson

Summary by @themadhalewrites​ - When a pride parade ends up in Bucky’s Coffee Shop he ends up not only having to clean up the glitter but now his glitter soulmate mark that matches up with the parade leader Sam Wilson makes sense.

 Prompts from LLightz - Enemies to Lovers, Highlander, Stucky

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - Being alone for so long has hardened Bucky's heart. He had lost everything back then. His friend, his brother, his lover. All to another Highlander going by the name Captain America. What a travesty. Since then Bucky had tried to hunt him down. His sworn enemy with eyes so similar to his former love.

 Prompts from @dreaminglypeach​ - Pepper, only one bed, kidfic

Summary by @rebelmeg​ - Bucky didn't understand it. The entire Stark Lakehouse, but there wasn't a single couch or guest bedroom open? At least, not unless Morgan Stark was willing to give up her bed, which, given the obstinate expression on the little girl's face (and WOW did she look like her dad), she was not about to share. Luckily, Pepper comes to the rescue. Albeit, in a kind of weird way...

 Prompts from @rebelmeg​ - coffeeshop AU, glitter, Sam Wilson

Summary by @dreaminglypeach​ - Sam hates coffee. Like, really hates it. Won’t drink it, can barely even stand to smell it, even talking about it makes him feel vaguely queasy. Why, then, does he work in a coffee shop? That, my friends, is a long story, involving glitter, puppies, and the incredible stubbornness of a dumbass named Steve Rogers.

 Prompts from @themadhalewrites​ - Lost, Hidden Love, Mystery Child.

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - Oh the f*ck Tony managed to get lost in this freaking forest was a mystery. Just like the child with brown hair, and steel grey eyes following him, hiding in the trees now and then but always there. Tony could feel it on his skin. How should he know, that the child, was the man, Tony had loved so fiercely but has had to hide it for James was not of the same standing like him.

Prompts by @fightingforcreativity​ - Love at first sight, missing, one date

Summary by LLightz - They'd had just the one date... Nat and Clint had set them up... pretending it was a chance encounter at their local gym, but he would have noticed the gorgeous brunette with the soft wavy hair and sky blue eyes if he'd ever been there before... It had been love at first sight... but he hadn't shown for their second date, and the number he had been given for him kept going to an invalid number…

Prompts by

@rebelmeg​ - Sam Wilson

@themadhalewrites​ - hidden love

@dreaminglypeach​ - Pepper

Summary by @magicadraconia - Pepper had always had a thing for boys in an Air Force uniform (her crush on Rhodey had lasted for years), so it was natural that that would expand to include the newest Avenger as well. It was just such a pity that Sam Wilson was now a wanted fugitive and hiding out from the world somewhere. Oh, well, she was about due a vacation anyway. Perhaps she'd try Wakanda this time…

Prompts by @rebelmeg​ - coffeeshop AU, glitter, Sam Wilson

Summary by  @fightingforcreativity​ - Glitter. It had to be glitter. Now he had glitter in his hair, glitter in his clothes, probably also in his underwear and glitter in his coffee. He was so done. Sam wanted nothing more than to smack Bucky for this. And he would, if Bucky wasn't the cutest and hottest barista in town.

Prompts by @dreaminglypeach​ - Pepper, only one bed, kidfic

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - Pepper was a godsend. No one and nothing would ever convince Tony of something else. Even though he was a bit miffed that he had missed out on the end that was fun. No Steve, James and Tony had to get deaged to their kid years. All included. And dang, considering the pics, the three of them had been clingy at hell, sharing everything after they had to share one bed, because Tony hadn't put in more than one guest bed in the lake house.

Prompts by

@fightingforcreativity​ - love at first sight

LLightz - highlander

@Magicadraconia - butterfly kisses

Summary by @rebelmeg​ - It had been like something out of a period film, or a romance novel, the moment he appeared out of the mist. His shoulder-length hair was damp, and tiny droplets even clung to the stubbled on his face, the jawline so sharp it was like glass. And it was utterly unfair how amazing those legs looked in a kilt. But that? Had been nothing compared to the way it felt when he reached out, his palm calloused, leaving the softest of touches on a warm cheek. Like butterfly kisses... Love at first sight wasn't supposed to be a real thing. It wasn't. And maybe this wasn't it. It could have been something else that sent the heart racing, goosebumps rising up over every inch of skin, a swooping sensation in the stomach that spun like dizziness. Could have been something else. Right?

Prompts by  @fightingforcreativity​ - love at first sight, missing, one date

Summary by @themadhalewrites​ - Stephen had only briefly caught sight of the man during the absolute carnage that was the Battle of New York, but just that glimpse was enough to make his heart race for a different reason than the adrenaline that had been pushing him until now. But he was never able to find the man; it was like he'd vanished into thin air. It isn't until he becomes the Sorcerer Supreme - with the ability to travel the multiverse - that he's able to find the man again. Now if only he could muster the courage to ask for a date…

Prompts by

@themadhalewrites​ - Mystery Child & Lost

@magicadraconia - Cloak of Levitation

@dreaminglypeach​ - Pepper 

@rebelmeg​ - Glitter & Coffeshop

Summary by LLightz - He should never have taken it off in the coffee shop, but he'd been trying to shake off all the damn glitter that had caught on it from all the paraders outside, and then he'd been distracted by the long-legged strawberry blonde who'd brought him the iced mocha... and now the priceless cloak of levitation was missing! That mysterious kid had run past so it was possible he might have snatched it, but there were so many people around that he didn't know where to start looking... Strange was going to kill him !!!

Prompts by @rebelmeg​ - pet fic, bakery AU, crack

Summary by  @fightingforcreativity​ - Iron Mouse was supposed to be a joke, not a thing. Rhodey was snickering madly while Sam grinned mischievously. Tony hated his friends and coworkers. He was a god damn baker, not a pet caregiver. Well... until now apparently.

Prompts by  @fightingforcreativity​ - Love letter, grieving, dancing

Summary by @themadhalewrites​ - He never expected that while we was grieving the death of a Tony, he would recieve a video love letter from Tony where he was drunk dancing to horrible music.

Prompts by @magicadraconia - Stars, "Oh, a wise guy, eh?", chicken soup

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - "And there you can follow the line of Taurus, then there is-" 

"oh you're a wise fella, huh?"

"What-" 

The brunet came closer and Tony saw that it was indeed the super soldier. "Mind if I sit and listen? Ma used to tell me about all the stars but I can't..." 

Tony didn't need that sentence to be ended. He knew what Bucky was about to say, and he didn't want to hear the hurt so he interrupted with: "Only if you make that chicken soup for me and Morgan you did the other day."

Prompts by LLightz - Lake, Mythical creature, Parachute 

Summary by @rebelmeg​ - Okay, so jumping out of a plane had been unplanned, but that's what parachutes were for. And now, Bucky was basically just having a nice, lazy float down, watching the world rise up to meet him with idle interest. At least... until he realized that he was drifting rather closer to the lake than he'd like. And, um... was there supposed to be something huge and MOVING in there?!

Prompts by @themadhalewrites​ - Lies, Baby bottles, "These aren't mine"

Summary by @dreaminglypeach​ - “I can explain, Pep!” Tony gushes, desperate to get the words out before she comes to her own conclusion about what’s going on here. “I know she said it’s mine, but it isn’t, I swear, there hasn’t been anyone but you for months, it’s a practical joke or something, I don’t know, just please, Pep, you have to believe me!” 

Pepper, goddess that she is, just sighs, takes the baby from his arms, and proceeds to make it actually drink from the bottle Tony’s been trying to give it for twenty minutes now. “Okay,” she says. “We can figure this out.”

Prompts by

@fightingforcreativity​ - Dancing

@themadhalewrites​ - "These aren't mine"

@dreaminglypeach​ - Alcohol

Summary by @magicadraconia -  It had been a really good beach party, lots of booze, lots of pretty young women - and men - to dance with, but now Rhodey was trying to help him find his pants so he could go home. Ah, those looked like his! "Hey, wait a minute, these aren't mine!"

Prompts by @themadhalewrites​ - Lies, Baby bottles, "These aren't mine"

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - Sometimes, in the depth of the night, Steve just needed something that would remind him of better days. Of days he had dreamed about being his everything. Those nights Steve took out a carton, filled with baby things, bottles, nappies all kind of stuffed animal things. Lies, beautiful lies in a beautiful box. Because Steve never had that. A baby. A family. How could he? He had been to sick to have a dame and when he wasn't anymore, he was in the war. "These aren't mine and yet..." And yet the blond wished for nothing more than to have buy those things for his own babe.

Prompts by 

@fightingforcreativity - Grieving & Love Letter

@dreaminglypeach​ - Alcohol, Dystopia, Nat

Summary by LLightz - She didn't think she could sink any lower than this... sitting on the blood and dirt stained floor at the foot of some stranger's bed, reading through their crinkled long-forgotten love letters with a quarter-full bottle of Vodka in one hand, a torn up kitten plushie tucked against her chest, and tears silently staining her face... she hadn't ever experienced any of this for herself and here she was, at the end of days, vicariously grieving through someone else's heart.

Prompts by @dreaminglypeach​ - Alcohol, dystopia, Nat 

Summary by @rebelmeg - "Here's to us," Natasha reached over and clinked her chipped mug to Bucky's, very nearly clumsy in her movements. Which, considering who she was, meant she was probably so drunk she could be lit on fire and used as a torch, her blood alcohol content was so high. 

"Lone survivors in a dead wilderness." Bucky intoned flatly, focusing very hard on not slurring. "Yay us." 

"You think there's anyone else out there?" Nat nodded out, towards the ruined landscape outside the cave they'd taken shelter in. 

With a shrug, Bucky finished off his drink and leaned back, bracing his weight on his elbows. "Who cares? This is all gonna be gone by tomorrow anyway. All that matters is that we get and stay drunk between now and then."

(And the commentary, because it’s too good)

Prompts by LLightz- Lake, Mythical creature, Parachute

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - Springing out of the plane without the parachute, again, wasn't the greatest plan Steve had in a while. Everything arched, because he landing in the lake. How water could be so hard and hurt like a bitch was a mystery to him. How he hadn't drowned when he fell into it, because he froze, plagued by flashbacks, was another mystery. And who had that beautiful man been? the one how embraced him and... saved him?

Prompts by @dreaminglypeach​ - Alcohol, dystopia, Nat

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - Nat was the last Avenger standing. Well, she didn't do much standing these days, nor fighting. But she was still there. Still inspiring a sense of fight in the youth. Being the last Avenger had hurt so much, she could understand now how Tony, who had lost everything over and over again, had lost himself in the bottle in the end. She did the same until she didn't. until Morgan and Peter and Harley and Shuri got to her. Helped her, inspired her to be the role model they needed to win. To finish the evil, the dictator who had ruled and burned them all for the past 10 years. She finally got up again, leading a war against Hydra, against Captain Hydra.

Prompts by

@fightingforcreativity​ - grieving

@dreaminglypeach​ - alcohol

@themadhalewrites​ -  lies 

Summary by @rebelmeg​ - Was an ex-Hydra supersoldier assassin supposed to be cute? Especially when he was sitting on the floor, clutching a bottle of vodka like a teddy bear, and sobbing like a baby. 

"You've gotta be kidding me." Sam muttered. "This has to be a joke." 

Steve just shook his head as he facepalmed. "I reeeeeally wish it was." 

"You LIED to me!" Bucky wailed, kicking out at Steve with a sniffle. "You LIAR. I hope your pants catch on fire IN YOUR SLEEP!" 

"This is ridiculous." Sam swatted away Bucky's hand that was tugging at his pant leg. "Stop it. You are being stupid." 

"HE'S A LYING LIAR WHO LIES!" Bucky bawled, taking another swig of vodka. "I DEMAND RESTITUTION."

(i have no idea what the lie was, but bucky is GRIEVING and it's VERY SERIOUS, SAM)

And more priceless commentary!

Prompts by @rebelmeg​ - pet fic, bakery AU, crack 

Summary by @rebelmeg​ - Shuri cooed at the black panther cub in her arms, tickling it under the chin and beaming when it took a swipe at her hand. "I'm just SAYING, you'd probably get some really good business if you made treats for pets too. It's hard to find a good treat for cats." Bucky barely graced her with a glimpse of his resting murder face before turning away. "I am not making you gourmet cat treats for your illegal pet." "He's not illegal!" Shuri protested, cuddling the panther cub to her chest like he had insulted it.

"Does T'Challa know about it yet?" 

The teenager blinked a couple times. "That's beside the point."

Prompts by 

@rebelmeg​ - pet fic, bakery AU, crack

@magicadraconia - Stars, "Oh, a wise guy, eh?", chicken soup

@themadhalewrites​ - Lies, Baby bottles, "These aren't mine"

LLightz - Lake, Mythical creature, Parachute

@dreaminglypeach​ - Alcohol, dystopia, Nat.

Summary by @fightingforcreativity​ - Bucky had loved the dog next door when they had been kids. He had tried to argue with his ma over and over and over how he would take good care of a pet if he ever got one. but money was tight and his sisters and Steve's health were more important than having a pet. So one of the things Bucky did when he remembered and was 'fine' was looking for a dog. He hadn't expected to find a cat, but he loved her dearly. Bucky was stable for a while, had a cat, had a job at a local bakery and some odd jobs here and there. At night he would look in the sky, trying to figure constellations seeing the stars differently then he faintly remembered. 

At the same time on one of those stars far away, a star named Earth, Tony Stark held his baby boy, feeding him some stardust with a bottle. Whispering, "One day you know you're the world. One day you know, you are a wise guy. But wisdom comes with age and until then you are smart." 

Natalia was with him, in the back looking onward, knowing things she shouldn't. She had tried to drown the foresight with alcohol, it never lasted. Flashes of their world, their planet destroyed, burned and scourged plagued her since she was a small child. "These aren't mine" she had said over and over when the doctors viewed her mind, when BARF showed Tony her innermost secrets. 

Beside Tony everyone judged her though. Believing her to be cruel and wanting this. But she didn't. The boy in Tony's arms proof of that. On silent soles she made into the kitchen cooking the chicken soup her mother taught her. 

A side glance to the parachute they had rediscovered. The parachute of their friend and lost lover. It had floated on a lake not far away. And.... If myths were to be believed it would lead to a world beyond. To a star far away. A star Tony was looking at. A star Bucky hopefully now lived on. amongst the mythical creatures, cats.

AND THAT’S A WRAP, FOLKS!  Leave our contributors some love, they deserve it!  And you never know... maybe some love will get an actual fic!

[dyaz-stories]

Safe and Sound

Just finished binging Netflix’s Castlevania, and boy, did I enjoy it! I definitely ship the hell out of Trevor/Sypha (Trepha’s apparently the ship name) so I wrote a little piece about them. I also really, really love Hector and Alucard and they really broke my heart in season 3... Poor babies. Anyways, this is set between seasons 2 and 3, it’s some Trepha angst/fluff, and I hope you’ll enjoy it!

The Speaker sighed loudly, and Trevor grinned slightly at her very, very obvious disapproval. She was bandaging his arm — though really, he didn’t need it, would’ve healed just fine on its own, he only ever had one or two cuts that got extremely badly infected and sure he nearly died then but there was no way that would happen again — and this was already her third sigh, but he was still not humoring her. If she wanted to say something, she would.

“You get hurt too much and too easily,” Sypha finally said, her ‘r’ rolling on her tongue with that accent he had grown to love, as she pushed the needle under his skin perhaps a little too energetically.

“You’re telling me,” he replied with a mere grimace. “That’s where it would be nice to be traveling with a half-vampire, huh? Too bad you chose me instead and now you’re stuck with m— Ow!”

Sypha smacked his arm and this time he hadn’t had the chance to brace himself for it, nor to hide the pain.

“Stop saying that,” she said, frowning as she focused on his arm again, and her fresh hands moving over his skin were gentle and soothing despite her apparent anger. “I do not regret choosing you, and Alucard wanted to stay at his father’s castle.”

“So if he hadn’t, you’d have asked him, right?”

To be honest, Trevor wasn’t quite sure why he was pressing the issue. What did he want? For her to tell him that yes, he was her second choice, that she would never have picked him if she had had literally anyone else to ask, that he was a pain in the ass and that it was the worse mistake she had ever done? Talk about self-destruction…

“I don’t know, Trevor,” she replied honestly, and damn, he liked the way she said his name, liked the way it sounded in her mouth, and he wondered what if would sound like in other circumstances but— Nah. Not with Sypha. She was way too good for him, and there was no chance she didn’t know that. “Perhaps I would have asked him to join us.”

“Now that would have been a nightmare.”

He didn’t know how to feel about the rest. It had been so easy for that ‘us’ to make its way past her lips…

“I know. You two would have been unbearable. You’re worse than children when you’re together.” There was a moment of silence. “But also, I felt it would have been cruel to offer. I don’t think he would have changed his mind. Traveling with him was never really an option.” A shrug. “So I didn’t consider it much. Why are you always thinking about the things that are not, Trevor?”

“It’s not the things that aren’t,” he mumbled, caught off-guard, as he often was with her. “It’s the things that could be.”

“So the things that aren’t, for now.”

“Hey, aren’t you Speakers also focused on things that aren’t right now?” he protested, getting a bit defensive. “Things that were, things that will be, that sort of things.”

“That’s different. That’s history. We don’t speculate.”

“Doesn’t make much of a difference to me.”

“We don’t worry. We think. We take action. We go where we need to go. What you’re doing— It’s not helping you.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. The self-destruction, physical and mental, the worry, the anxiety that he tried to numb with alcohol, none of that made things better.

But she did.

“You get hurt too easily,” she said again. “You need to be more careful.”

“No can do. If I’m more careful, the creatures don’t get killed. They kill and hurt other people.” Like you. He had never quite forgiven himself for the scar Dracula had left on her.

“So it doesn’t matter if they hurt you?”

He missed the anger that danced in her voice, the way she spoke through gritted teeth.

“Not really.”

Suddenly her hands weren’t cold anymore, they were burning, which at least had the advantage of cauterizing the wound.

“Dammit, what the fuck—?”

Sypha stood up, removing her hand, and threw down her thread and needle.

“I’m done. If you get hurt doing careless things again, don’t count on me to help you with it.”

The door slammed behind her, and Trevor winced. What had he done now? He sat on the bed a little while, ran his fingers through his hair, then finally went “Ah, fuck” and walked out, following after her. She hadn’t gone very far, it turned out. She was just leaning against the guardrail, looking out at the city.

“You’re going to get cold,” he sighed.

“Well it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

He rose an eyebrow. She probably wouldn’t like it much more if he told her that it didn’t matter if it was him, but it would if it was her. There was no way he made the world a better place. He had given up on that idea a long time ago. But Sypha? Her simple presence had to be an improvement for the world.

He took a few steps and placed himself behind her, engulfing her under his cloak. He found himself naturally wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head. She was so tiny. He liked the way she fit in his arms and against him, liked the feeling of her hair tickling his neck, liked the way she smelled of cinnamon and pine tree.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything, you know.”

I would never.

Her shoulders shook, and at first he thought she was shrugging, but then he heard her sniff, and he froze in horror.

“Are you crying?”

He’d made her cry.

Well, shit.

“Hey, no— Don’t— It’s really not worth it— Ow, for fuck’s sake!”

Sypha had turned around and given him a strong kick in the shin. When he leaned forward in pain, she grabbed his head, bringing it to rest onto her shoulder, and he tensed. Being this close to her… It wasn’t right. Not for him. He considered himself lucky enough to be able to be by her side but he— Well, he did want that, he just didn’t think she should. Couldn’t be good for her, to encumber herself with him.

“I don’t like to hear you say things like that,” she said, her voice surprisingly soft. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to die.”

Her fingers were caressing the nape of his neck very softly, which was sending all sorts of feelings down his spine, and damn, he wanted to— He cleared his throat awkwardly and straightened up, refusing to look at her.

“Oh, so you get to hurt me? Just not the others?”

She nodded, apparently satisfied with this conclusion.

“Exactly!”

He finally risked a glance at her, and it broke his heart to see that, despite the smile the last part of their conversation had brought to her face, her eyes were still fixed onto him, sad, worried.

He… wasn’t used to having someone worry for him. Hadn’t had anyone do that in a long time. Hadn’t had anyone he wanted to come back, hadn’t had anyone who would want him to come back safe and uninjured.

Maybe he could be a little more careful.

“Fine. I’ll try.”

Sypha reached out and took one of his hand in hers. Again, he marveled at how small she was, and at how despite that, she had managed to change his entire world.

“You better,” she threatened, and he had no doubt that she could kick his ass if she want to. “Otherwise I’ll—”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. It was something he had seen his father do for his mother, his brothers for women they were courting. It was a gesture he had always found ridiculous and, quite frankly, a noble’s whim. And yet, it was the first thing that came to mind. It felt appropriate right now.

When he looked back at her, Sypha found herself suddenly frozen in place by the look in his eyes, her heart pounding so loud in her chest she thought it might explode. He looked at her like he wanted her. She could read the sheer desire that almost turned to desperation, she could read how hard he fought that desire, could tell that every fiber of his body were screaming for her. She could also read all his affection, perhaps even his love for her. How tender his feelings were, and how it was those feelings exactly that kept him from acting on his desire.

How terrified he was of losing her, particularly through his own fault.

Her lips parted. She knew she had to say something. She wanted to say something.

There was a crash in the street, and Trevor rolled his eyes.

“Welp. Looks like we have a job to do.”

Just as gently, he took her hand down, leaving it limp alongside her body. Somehow, he couldn’t read her as easily as she could. Somehow, he had no idea of the emotions that were coursing threw her body.

“You coming or what?”

Her cheeks were burning, and Sypha shook her head, trying to collect herself. Alucard was right. Trevor was distracting her, but that only meant that she had to wait for a moment when they could afford to be distracted.

She watched his back as she started to run after him. He looked over his shoulder to check on her, and she smiled.

“You better not get hurt this time, Belmont!”

“Hey, you should be telling that to them, not me!”

Then, a moment of silence.

“But I’ll try.”

Because she had asked him to. Because she was worth it. Because now, there was someone who wanted him not to get hurt. Because now, there was someone he wanted to be able to come back to. To spend more time with. To care for. To love, perhaps.

Because now, there was someone who made staying alive worth it.

Hope you liked it! I did regret not seeing more of the relationship building between the two, the fact that it happened off-screen was... frustrating to me. It’s my first time writing for them and the fandom, so I hope I did alright, feel free to let me know if you have thoughts about them being OOC or something!

[chriscdcase95]

How not to debate Ships and Shipping

I am writing this from personal experience, and from noticing bad cases of Ship Policing going on in the Hazbin Hotel and Star Wars fandom as of late. I figured a bunch of kids got too much computer time from their parents and are in need of education, because this is a more extreme throwback to the shipping wars that occurred in the Twilight and iCarly fanbase from way back when. 

Since 2010, I have found myself a little immersed into the practice of shipping. At the start of this decade, I was Team Edward/Team Jacob levels of ship crazy, and here I am now with a new perspective on things. 

I've even devolved into multi shipping, but I apply that when it comes to compartmentalizing fanfiction and canon. I have my share of OTP's and NOTP's (although Jemma of Every Witch Way is personally my top NOTP for multiple reasons).

Anyways, welcome to my TedTalk where I will educate you ten to fifteen year old's about how not to debate ships. Take it from an old geezer with ten years of experience, I was there in the middle of ship wars at the start of the decade.

I said in previous posts that ships are a funny thing. They should be small in the grand scheme of things, and fans put them on this great and grand pedestals. Some to the extent where people become downright psychotic bullies about the ships they like or don't like, going as far as to police ships to other fans, and sometimes creators. I think we can agree Ship Policing should be seen as toxic behaviour, right ? Well, no. I'll admit that is a complex issue, even for a multi shipper like me. I brought this up in two Facebook groups I'm in, and the basic consensus is that Ship Policing is toxic behaviour -  except when they romanticize domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, etc.

But what is Ship Policing ?  Simply put, telling people who they are or are not allowed to ship; bullying and shaming others over their ships; and in the biggest extreme, sending death threats and rape threats to other fans over these pairings. The Jemma fans of Every Witch Way for example, are probably the biggest example of Ship Policing, seeing as they literally got the showrunners to rewrite the show to fit their ships fanfiction AU image. But that's neither here nor there, but the point is, AU's are best left to fanfiction or It's A Wonderful Life plots.

Similarly, the Hazbin Hotel fandom had this (hopefully/mercifully one) really bad apple coming the Chalastor fandom, who went on homophobic speeches and demanding that the showrunners make Chalastor canon over Chaggie because and RadioDust- in their own words - "Gays are gross" and went as far as to send death threats to the creators. Because that will certainly make your ship canon, and not make you and yours look like the Jemma fandom.

A less malicious and more hilariously petty example comes from The Loud House fandom, where Luanny fans tend to get butthurt over fans, fics and art of the Luaggie ship, despite the Luanny already being canon and Luaggie only ever existing in fanworks. It was such a one sided non-issue, that it was the Spec Ops the Line of ship wars.

Also within the Loud House fandom there is an artist who made OC's based off of his ships AU. I'm not into the ship or AU, but I saw him getting death threats not just to himself, but his OC's as well. I may not be fully aware of the situation (like I just said, I don't follow the ship or AU), but even I can call this a toxic and illogical way of thinking.

To make a primary and personal example for this lecture, I am going to bring up the most outlandish ship discussion I was part of the past year. Some time ago, I ended up in a debate regarding Kim Possible ships in a Facebook group I posted on. In it I said I wasn't into non canon but popular ship called Kigo. When I re-watched the series, the Drakgo and Kim x Ron (the latter of which I just realized didn't have a ship name) just kind of grew on, and I felt that there were some problems with Kigo as a romantic relationship.

Now I want to make sure to point out that if you like Kigo, that is 100% okay, it is just in my opinion that it would be problematic. It's my personal opinion that if you apply their canon characterization, you'll run into the same problems Anti Reylos have with Rey and Ben. Anyways, when I said my peace, most of the Kigo's didn't make a big deal about it; they took it in stride; calmly disagreed with me and stated their stance. This is what a proper ship discussion should be. It would have been one of the most stable, non toxic discussions I was a part of. Nothing memorable was supposed to happen.

Then she came along.

Since she isn't internet famous on this site or others as far as I know, I am not going to use real names because I don't want this person to be doxxed, stalked or cyberbullied, but I will us LP as a substitute. She will be our example of what a toxic anti will look like, and our example of how not to debate or discuss a ship. Simply put, if she had the fame, she would be the TrueLoveHeart94 of the Kigo fandom (look up Dumbsville's videos on him YouTube, and you'll get a good idea of what I'm talking about).

One of the first things to use is a simple explanation for your stance. When I was explaining my stance, I explained how I came to my conclusions simply by watching the show, putting some thought into it, and making my own opinion based on what I observed. Like I said these were my opinions, observations, and at no point do I claim it to be some objective fact. At no point to attack Kigo's, at no point did I call them toxic. The most I did was explain why I find it problematic. Like I said, if you like Kigo that is 100% fine and dandy, you'll get not hate or bullying from me.

LP on the other hand, well she just couldn't accept that someone didn't like Kigo. How dare I prefer two canonically heterosexual characters in a canon het ship. How dare I commit the crime of having an unpopular, differing opinion. Even worse how dare I try to explain my reasoning. 

It was one of those fan discussions. Now when I thought this was going to be a civil discussion, I asked her just why I was wrong not to ship Kigo. Why is Kim x Ron or Drakgo so toxic ? She didn't really give me a real answer; the closest she got to a coherent response was a borderline Darwinist rant about how "strong women shouldn't date weakling men".

That was what should have made me think "is this discussion worth having ?" (For the record, some of my favourite ship dynamics is with a tough or strong woman with a meek, even nerdish man so the whole "the strong shouldn't be paired up with weaklings" is a non argument to me).

Pretty soon she began breaking the following steps one should take in a debate

. Don't use double standards or Non Sequiturs - First thing you should be aware of in any debate is to actually listen too and answer you're opponents points. The talking points of dodging questions, or ignoring answers - a well as using those same answer to support your points - is an inherently dishonest tactic. If you have a point or counterpoint, it'll do you good not to use dishonest tactics to try to "win" your debates.

One of the things I had issues with regarding Kigo was one of the same points (if not the main) LP raised for the ship. As I said above one of my problems was some of the same talking points Anti-Reylo's raise. I pointed out how Kim and Shego have tried to kill each other a few times in the series, something LP both acknowledges and ignores in the exact same sentence. LP's own talking points for their relationship was their romantic/sexual chemistry could be seen in their fight scenes. This is an example of a Double Standard.

When I pointed out the abusive implications of this thought process, rather than directly answer this, LP went on to equate my point as accusing professional wrestlers of being abusive to their wives. This is an example of a Non Sequitur. She doesn't answer or address my points, and my points don't count unless they support her argument.

Double standards and Non Sequiturs in general should be avoided in any kind of debate. If a talking point is raised against you, it has to be addressed. Not doing so is a less dignified admission that you don't really have an answer.

Another example of this can be seen in the Team Edward vs Team Jacob noise; a Team Jacob fan could say that Edward was a stalker towards Bella, ignoring and dodging a counter argument of Jacob's "Nice Guy" attitude towards Bella and how he forcibly kissed her (also there's Charlie's non reaction to this, but that's beside the point). The same goes vice versa; both are problematic.

Use canon evidence to make your point - Admittedly this one can only really apply if you are making a case for a non canon ship, or pointing out problems with a canon one.

Now the reason LP was so impassioned about her arguments was her insistence that Kigo had to be canon. As she said, it wasn't enough that it was popular enough as a fanfic ship; it wasn't enough that I had to ship it; but she was trying to make the case that Kigo had to be the canon ship of the show, and she was trying to make the case for it.

TrueLoveHeart94 thought process aside, if  you want to make a canon case for your ship, it'll do you good in ship debates is use canon evidence. What I am saying is there are some ships that work in canon, others in fanfiction. If you were to make a point to prove your ship would work in canon, use canon examples.

For example, I mentioned above someone in the Hazbin Hotel fandom tried to make the canon case for Chalastor....by citing their personal homophobia and making death threats towards Ashley and Vivziepop.

In the debate, I used the show to explain why I wasn't into Kigo (as well as my above mentioned reasons) and I mentioned how I didn't see much in canon to see a romantic relationship. Now I want to be clear, I saw Kigo as a fanfic based ship and I am aware that Drakken and Shego seemingly reform at the end of the series, but with canon at best I see Kim and Shego as having a sisterly relationship. I also want to be clear I am not a canon purist. There are many non canon couples I like, I am a multi-shipper after all and I can compartmentalize fanfic couples with my canon OTP's. And I am a supporter of AU's. Hell, there's even Hero x Villain ships I am into...it's just Kigo isn't one of them. I am not an anti; I don't hate the Kigo relationship or it's fan; I just wasn't into it and the canon ships just grew on me when I revisited the series.

When I asked for canon examples that Kigo could work as a romantic pairing, LP's response was to cite fanfiction and fan art as proof.

Let me repeat; I asked for canon examples to prove her point, and why my stance was wrong....and she used fanworks.

I don't think I need to explain the problem here.

To my knowledge, not even TrueLoveHeart94 uses fanfiction/art to make a canon case for Sonamy. This is the kind of straw grasping I can see Chris Weston Chandler making. I don't even know what else to say about this. I still get slacked thinking about it.

Anyway, when I said the fanfiction isn't considered canon, LP responded thusly...

Avoid Ad Hominems and slander

Okay, this one should be a no brainer; when you are in a debate of any kind, there is one thing you can do that means you immediately loose your debate. Your points no longer become valid, you surrender any argument you may have, and you prove that you are not worth debating.

Ad Hominems, personal insults, death/rape threats, racist/homophobic ranting, slander, etc.

Let's just say the nicer things LP said was calling me retarded. I am not sure if that was a coincidence since I mentioned that I was autistic earlier in the discussion.

Keep in mind, all I did throughout the discussion was answer LP's questions, and explain my stance. I even said that it was just my opinion and at no point did I claim it to be objective fact.  At no point did I accuse LP of being racist; a nazi; biphobe; rape/abuse apologist; self-misogynist or misandrist; I never called her abelist (despite some of what she said above).

As for what she said to me ? Like I said, being called a retard was one of the more tame things she said of me. She kept sending me notifications that included angry, barely coherent rants, TrIgGeReD tExT, the whole nine yards.

See, this isn't how you win debates, this is how you rage quit these debates. To give you an idea of the way she was saying, I refer you to Dumbsville's videos on TrueLoveHeart94; the resemblance between LP and TrueLoveHearts comments are rather uncanny. Now for context, the discussion started approx. 6:00 to 7:00 PM...these notifications have been ongoing well into 1:30 AM.

And all this because I said I wasn't into a ship she liked.

That is when I put a stop to the discussion. I blocked LP and deleted the discussion just to be safe.

Conclusion

So as we start the new decade, I look back at how much I've seen making mountains out of molehills (shipping wars). I have seen, heard, even been part of these ship wars and discussions since  2010. My disastrous "debate" with LP is a recent example.

I do believe there is nothing wrong with discussing ships, but it has ben ten years and ship wars are just as bad as they were when Twilight hit the scene. I have heard stories of people getting threats of rape, doxing, threats to people families; people pushing others to self harm for liking "the wrong ship".

I wrote this to educate the young and impressionable in the 2020's not to repeat the same mistakes both I and others made in 2010. The fact the LP incidents is from 2019 and the incident with the Hazbin Hotel fandom are from December 2019 alone, shows that you good folks need some learning to do. Something that should be considered fun shouldn't be something worth hurting yourself or others over.

If you ever find yourself in such a debate, always remember to actually address points raised against you; don't dodge questions; if asked to provide canon reasons for why something should be a canonical OTP or NOTP, please remember that fanfiction are not considered canon examples; if you ever find yourself throwing nasty accusations, insults or threats to people's safety in a debate, then that means you lost the debate.

Hopefully you can follow this advise, and help make shipping fun again, and not something to start World War III over.

This had been my Ted Talk.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {5}

Chris Evans X Reader Vixen Giovanni

Chapter Warning: Cursing, Plot, Time Jump

Word Count: 3.2K

Note: Bold Italics are Chris’ inner thoughts. Italics are Vixen’s inner thoughts

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5: Time Flies

-Two ½ Years Later-

 -Chris-

 “We have Chris Evans here with us for a little more time. He is our Captain America. He will be seen in Avengers: Infinity War and then Avengers: Endgame. We are very excited to see both movies; Captain America is a fan favorite.”

     He smiled as the audience erupted with applause.

     “Chris, you’ve played the Captain for several years. Are you looking forward to playing anything else?”

     “Well, I’m actually looking forward to getting behind the camera directing, producing,” he explained.

     “What about a family? Do you see yourself with a family?”

 He paused for a long moment and thought about the question he was asked. It hit him hard and hit him deep. The answer to this question had haunted him for the last nearly three years. Every couple of months ignoring it or denying it became harder and harder. He took a deep breath and prepped the press answer.

     “Yeah, sure. Who doesn’t want a family?”

     He smiled and hoped it was one that hid how he really felt. The women of The View didn’t speak. It was as if they were giving him more time to form a complete answer.

   “Having a family is what I would call the ultimate goal,” he finished.

     “So a wife, kids?”

     Chris thought back to her at the mention of a wife. He swallowed and nodded.

     “Yeah, why not.”

 He smiled again and pushed any other feelings back into the box he held that was wrapped with a tightly secured bow, the box he rarely opened because the box was becoming a painful joke that he was the butt of. The rest of the interviewed segment went off without a hitch, and after another fifteen minutes, he was on his way to yet another interview. Press for Infinity War was killing him. He’d purposely piled on more than humanly possible onto his plate to avoid several truths. All that work was taking a toll. He was exhausted.

     All the work also left little time for downtime, which meant relationships were impacted, or lack thereof. Every woman he’d been with never amounted to anything. None of them were right; none of them made him feel anything like how he felt in the past. They lasted a few months and then fizzled or more than months, and he lost interest. He’d begun to think he’d never meet anyone that was right, never meet anyone he could talk to so easily as he spoke with her. He worked extra hard to keep it all off his mind, but for the last few months, it was becoming more and more difficult.

  By the time he made it home, he was exhausted and ready for bed, but he didn’t sleep, he sat up and drifted into his memories of Las Vegas, of her—Vixen. He opened the drawer of his office and pulled out the weathered paper and unfolded it. He looked over her handwriting and her words.

     When you get the paperwork, send it here and consider it done. Have a nice life. 5578 Carsington Way P.O Box 2687, San Francisco, California.

  He groaned and finished the glass of whiskey he was nursing. After staring at the note for a few more minutes, he put it back in his desk and shook his head. He’d thought about that night many times, and many times he came to the same conclusion, he was an asshole.

  He walked to the kitchen and took out the leftover take out from the night before and heated it. His phone rang, distracting him from his thoughts. He smiled when he saw it was his mother.

     “Hey, mom.”

     “Chris. We saw you on The View today. How are you, honey?”

     He sighed and dropped his head back. He’d talked to her a few months back about his feelings and thoughts, and he regretted it. When he wanted to forget, she was always there to remind him. He didn’t want to remember; he wanted to forget and bury it.

     “I’m good mom; I was just sitting down to dinner.”

     “Please tell me no more takeout,” Lisa Evans sighed out.

      The microwave beeped, and he looked over the leftover takeout and shook his head.

 “It’s the last of it.”

   “Christopher Robert Evans. You need to take better care of yourself or find someone who can,” she chastised.

      “I’m fine mom. No time for anyone.”

    “Work won’t keep you warm at night, work won’t marry you and love you back, work won’t produce a child that looks like you, work won’t give you a fulfilling life,” she drilled. He knew what she spoke was true, but he didn’t want to go there. He didn’t see how he could.

    “Honey you’re not getting any younger. I remember our conversation.”

    “Oh, I know you remember mom. Look, it’ll happen when it’s time. Until then, I’ll work and secure an empire for that future family. I have to go mom; I love you. Bye.”

    He hung up and rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on like this. Something had to change, or his sanity would break.

 ~~~~~~~

-Vixen-

   “I can’t believe we’ve only been open for two months and we’ve been ranked number one ever since. That is unheard of Vix,” Nexus said with an excited glint in her eyes. You nodded and flipped through the folder before you.

    “I have to admit it does feel amazing. I’ve worked so hard for this. It almost didn’t happen.”

    “No, this was always meant to be. Nothing could have stopped you,” Nexus bolstered.

     You smiled; she was always there encouraging you and making sure you never lost sight of how far you’d come. She was your best friend, one of the few you trusted and your sister.

     “Thanks, Nex.”

    “Never thank me Vix, that’s what big sisters are for.”

     “Oh, girl bye you are only nine months older than me, so please stop.”

 She laughed and shrugged as she walked to the door of your office.

    “Nine months is still older. Anyway, make sure you come down and show your face, you know a personable chef and owner brings more customers, and more customers mean more money.”

    You rolled your eyes and sat there looking at the screens on your wall that showed all the security footage in the restaurant tonight. You looked over all the diners taking in their expressions and checked in on the cooks in the kitchen, paying close attention to how they prepared your precious recipes. You decided tonight not to oversee the kitchen firsthand you chose to trust your staff. Tonight, you had an important task to be the face of Giovanni’s. You stood, brushed the crease out your form-fitting dress. You shook your arms out to make sure the cutout sleeves dropped the way they should. Once you were happy with your appearance, you stepped out your office and walked to the elevator and rode it down to the main floor.

   Once the doors opened, you pasted the smile on your face and walked out into the dining area. You smiled and nodded at diners to the right and greeted others to the right. As you approached, everyone you greeted expressed happiness to see you and complimented the food they ate, the atmosphere around; everything was to their liking.

     “Ms. Giovanni.”

    You looked behind you to see Francisco DeBarge one of the best food critics in the city.

    “Francisco, what a surprise. How are you?”

 You stepped closer and allowed him to kiss your cheeks two times.

    “I’m doing well. My, my you look simply divine,” he said, looking you up and down with a pleased look on his face. You rolled your shoulders back, feeling your skin crawl.

    “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company here tonight?”

    “Tonight I came here to try your menu finally,” Francisco said.

     “Oh, really. I’d lost hope after Carlo, Idalia, Peter, and Hector came and raved. I thought you’d decided I wasn’t worth the time.”

    “Quite the contrary, I was waiting for the perfect time. Tonight is that time.”

    “I see; and how did you find the menu?”

    He paused and looked around the restaurant and smiled, but it wasn’t any ol’ smile it left you skin crawling even more.

 “I found no complaints. The food was delicious, well prepared, the ambiance was relaxing, the service impeccable. I have not one complaint,” Francisco complimented.

    You smiled widely. While you knew all of this to be true you still felt nervous having him here critiquing everything you worked so hard to accomplish. One bad review and it could be detrimental to your success. You smiled again and cleared your throat.

 “I am glad to hear that Francisco, thank you for the great review.”

    “No problem. Maybe we could celebrate over dinner tomorrow night,” he questioned.

    You pinched your lips to stifle the laugh threatening to overflow from within you. That was the last thing in the world you wanted. You’d heard rumors about him and his tastes and how he treated women. You were not interested at all.

    “Unfortunately, Francisco I’m not dating. I have way too much going on.”

    It wasn’t a lie; it was true. Your life was as hectic as it came. Francisco examined you under a stern eye as if he were trying to figure out if you were lying or intimidate you. He didn’t know you; you weren’t easily intimidated.

    “Well, again thank you for the review, and I hope your evening was well spent. Have a good night.”

 You turned and walked further into the dining area and continued to greet your customers. You tried to shake off the feeling of disgust in your stomach from your encounter with Francisco. You smiled so much your cheeks hurt, and you shook so many hands you knew you were covered in germs.  By the time the restaurant closed and you’d done all your duties including double-checking the stockroom for the next night, checking shipments, and dealing with emails it was late, and when the car stopped in front of your brownstone, it was almost one in the morning.

As you lifted your foot to climb the steps, you saw a torn magazine with its cover faced up. You stopped and peered closer to the dirty cover. You saw it was a cover of the Marvel superheroes. You could make out the words “Infinity War.” As you bent to pick it up, your front door opened and the glow of the light from inside bathed you.

    “What’re you doing?”

    You looked up at the smiling face of your mother and briefly looked back to the cover. You stood and walked the steps to your door.

   “Nothing.”

     “You’re late.”

     “I know I’m sorry; it was a busy night.”

   You walked inside, took off your coat and placed it into the coat closet.

     “All work Vix.”

 You sighed; she’d said this before so many times. You’ve heard it again and again, and you were tired of it.

   “I know mom, but work pays the bills, work keeps this house, work makes sure you don’t work anymore, and work isn’t all that bad,” you listed off as you walked through the house to the kitchen.

    “I have no problem working again. I have my own house, yes you paid it off, and I am grateful, but you didn’t have to. All I am trying to say honey is you’re not getting any younger, and you need a partner. You need someone to take care of you as much as you take care of everyone else. I just want you to be happy,” she expressed.

     You knew she meant well, they all did, and you appreciated the concern because you knew they loved you, but it wasn’t easy to listen to this over the years. You finished the bottle of sparkling water you drank, dropped it into the garbage and nodded.

   “I know mom. Whatever God has in the cards for me, I will accept.”

    You walked away and out of the kitchen with her hot on your heels.

    “You cannot leave all of the work to God; you have to help him a little bit.”

    “And I will, but all on God’s time.”

    She stared at you with an exasperated look on her face. She knew she was at an impasse.

  “You are going to be thirty this year, keep that in mind while you’re pretending to wait on God’s timing when in fact you’ve checked out, and I do not know why. Ever since you came back from that trip to Las Vegas those years ago, you’ve been different.”

     You sighed again and opened your mouth to speak, but the knock saved you. You walked to the door and opened it and smiled at your father.

    “Hi, daddy.”

    “Hello, my beautiful girl.”

He wrapped you in a tight hug. You loved his hugs; you always felt better no matter what.

    “I got the text your mother’s ready.”

    “Yes, she is ready and waiting, right mom.”

   She rolled her eyes at your demur act.

    “Fine. Just remember Vixen you deserve happiness, you deserve love,” she informed as she took her coat and walked through the threshold to your father.

    “Good night, mom, thank you for staying.”

    You kissed her cheek and then your father’s and watched them descend the steps and get in the car. You closed the door, leaned on it, and looked around. You’d worked very hard for this house. The countless nights of bartending and saving and living at your parents had all been worth it. While you weren’t exactly where you wanted to be, you were well on your way. You weren’t even thirty yet, and you had your own successful restaurant, your own car, and your own home.

   You sighed again and took up your purse then walked up the stairs turning off lights as you went. You walked down the hall and to your bedroom and began peeling off the dress. Once you were finally free from the material, you walked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet to fill the tub. You needed a bath tonight. You flipped on the TV and surfed the channels not looking for anything in particular. You stopped on TMZ only because there was nothing else on. You allowed the sound to fill your background and walked back to your room to the wine fridge. This was the piece that sold you on the house, a wine fridge in every room and what was better a code accessed wine cooler.

    You entered your code and took out a bottle of your favorite rose̒ and filled the glass to the brim. You took a hefty sip and moaned as the floral and fruit flavors battled for control, neither won because the subtleness of the wine was far too superior. From the TV in the bathroom, you heard his name mentioned. You slowly walked to the bathroom and leaned on the French doors and watched as the paparazzi swarmed him snapping picture after picture and shouting question after question at him. He smiled and politely answered the few he chose. He spoke of the upcoming release of the new Avengers movie and talked about how much fun he had working on it and then came a question that he avoided.

    “Any idea when you’ll settle down?”

    He didn’t look like he had an answer, and even more, he looked speechless and a little sad. That piqued your interest. You took another sip of the wine and absentmindedly watched the TV and the commentary about him. Many of the girls openly ogled him, and some of the guys also did. You didn’t blame them; the years had been kind to him. He looked to have bulked up even more, and his hair was now redder than you remember—it looked good on him. You took a deep breath as something close to regret and guilt filled your chest.

    It was then you heard it; the patter of feet and the jovial sound of a giggle. You smiled and placed the glass on top of the counter beside the sink and turned with your arms crossing your chest. Then in burst the joy of your life. Once she saw you, she stopped and gasped.

    “Uh-oh,” her sweet little voice said pronouncing the words with childlike innocence.

    “Uh-oh is right little one. You are supposed to be asleep.”

    “No tired,” she responded, giving you an innocent smile. The smile you were always powerless against.

    You smirked and allowed the smile to fill your face. She smiled and squealed as she clumsily hurried to you. Meeting her halfway, you lifted her into your arms and kissed all over her soft face. She laughed and wiggled when you added tickles. Soon she was a wiggly, squealing ball of energy and you loved it. You held her small body and moaned taking in her smell. You loved how she smelled; it was so delicate, like roses, sunshine, candy, and crayons. It was the scent that filled your home for the last nearly three years.

    “How are you, my love? Did you have a good day with gamma?”

    She nodded excitedly.

    “Uh-huh, she wet me ‘ave two cookie ‘fo dinno.”

    “Oh, really?”

    “She say no twell mamma, shh, secwet.”

    You snorted and carried her to the bathroom with you and turned off the water.

    “Our little secret princess. I have an idea. How about we both take a warm bath?”

  You pointed to the tub that was now filled with water and overflowing with bubbles. Her eyes lit up with excitement.

   “Otay.”

   You walked to the sink, placed her on top of it, and began taking off her clothes. Once she was down to her pull-ups she pulled them off herself.

     “I big gwirl, I oo it.”

    “Yes, you are Ella, mommy’s big girl.”

    She loved baths, but she loved them even more with you. For the next hour, you held her on your lap as she played with her toys and the bubbles and babbled to her heart’s content. You relaxed in the warm water and felt all the stress leave your body listening to your sweet baby girl’s conversations with herself. This was the highlight of your day. This was why you worked so hard over the years, and this was why you’d continue to work hard. You’d learned long ago that a man was not a needed part of your life; they brought sadness and disappointment. The only important thing was Ella.

    You didn’t even realize you’d dozed off in the tub with Ella fast asleep on your chest until you felt the chill to the water. You climbed out of the tub and wrapped you both in a towel and walked to her bedroom. When you walked in, you placed her in her bed and gathered fresh pajamas and her lotion and began to lotion and dress her. Every so often she stirred, but you quickly soothed her by humming her favorite lullaby. You tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and walked out back to your bedroom where you didn’t bother with anything; you simply passed out in your bed towel and all.

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A/N: Face Claim used for Ella is Greyson Land. Image is not my own.