#i failed like 4 times already i hate it i know the things but i can't pass no matter what

[auspicioustidings]

Flinch

Summary: You thought you would die trying the day you tried to escape your abusive husband, but destiny has other plans. Words: 5.2k TWs: domestic abuse, rape

(I read this book months ago, forgot all about it and today it burrowed into my head again and I assume caused this so if you wanna read a good version of this concept I'd recommend it!)

You would die trying today. You had to. 

The 20 week scan had been yesterday and while your husband was away on a work trip he would return this evening. You knew your bodyguard had already told him that the baby inside you was a girl. He did not want a girl. You shook at the memory of when he left 3 days ago.

He had taken you on your hands and knees, no less cruel in how he did it than before you were pregnant, and told you about how his son would be his legacy. His hot, wet breath had been in your ear as he spilled inside of you. You’d better give me a son, wife. If you misbehave and grow a female I’ll need to fuck myself into your womb to get rid of the little slut and try again.

The baby had saved you the most severe beatings the last 4 months, but your husband found other ways to torture you. You could barely even look at your guard anymore knowing that he had been witness to the week your husband had made you spend in an open room penned in by glass. It had been a luxurious prison cell where everybody could see your every move, the bathroom facilities not hidden from view at all and your body on full display. He said it was so they could make sure you were healthy and happy during your pregnancy and then he had fucked your arse in front of his men and smacked you hard across the cheek when he was finished for being such a cry baby. 

He would certainly beat you black and blue for failing to bear him a son. But you didn’t really care about that, you had agreed to be his wife 6 years ago when you were 17 and thought he had hung the stars. But this baby who at first you had hated you had come to love. He would kill her. He would kill any of her sisters after her. You could take any punishment he gave you, maybe you’d get lucky and he’d finally kill you, but your daughter deserved a chance to live. 

So you would do something you had not done since your 3rd attempt 5 years ago had ended with broken ribs, a broken nose and a concussion that had made you dizzy and sick for months after. You were going to try and leave. 

It would be difficult. Your guard was loyal to your husband and never flinched at his treatment of you, so you did not expect help from him. Your left leg hadn’t quite healed right after it had been hurt a few weeks ago during a particularly rough fulfilment of your marital duties so you couldn’t put weight on it very well. 

Plus you knew you were ugly now. Your eyes had sunken in and were smudged underneath with purple from too many sleepless nights. One side of your face was mottled with bruises. The rest of your body was too thin but for your protruding stomach and covered in marks. You remembered your father yelling at you about beauty being the only thing women were worth when you were a child. Your parents had been happy when you got engaged to such a wealthy man and you had not heard from them since the day they handed you over. You had been pretty then. You wondered how disgusted your father would be with how you looked now. He certainly wouldn’t help you in such a state.

There wasn’t much time. Your guard was stuck to your side but for one hour in the afternoon where you were expected to thoroughly clean yourself and prepare yourself for your husband's return. The rules of that never changed regardless of your condition. You would spend the hour making yourself perfect, your holes clean and ready, your skin soft and fragrant, your hair braided how he liked it and a thin nightgown perfectly draping on your body. If he found fault with you then you could expect a great deal of pain before he brought in his men to redo the whole process. It was not pleasant when they did it. 

The fear made your mouth dry. Not only would you be punished for trying to escape, but you would be found lacking in your appearance and preparation and that would carry its own punishment. You could not do this.

A kick from your daughter argued that you could and it spurred you into action. This was it, your last chance to save her. 

–

“I’m gaggin’ for a pint.”

Ghost snorted a laugh.

“You’re always gagging for something Johnny” he quipped, Gaz elbowing Soap teasingly while Price just rolled his eyes from behind the wheel.

“You’ll behave back there. This truck has a no gagging on anything rule in place. Bunch of bloody moppets” he barked.

The Captain was mostly just glad to be heading back home. Some therapist would have a field day with him considering home to be a small off-the-record safe house on the edges of a tiny fishing village, but then he was sure they would quit long before he had gotten to that part with the amount of shite he had been through. 

His team had their own flats dotted around the UK, but they seemed to prefer to spend most of their down time together in the safe house. Maybe one day they would all admit that the safe house was just their actual house now, but it was unlikely to be anytime soon. It was still spartan after all, looking drab from the outside and as regimented and dull as any other military base on the inside. Not really homey. Garrick had sincerely attempted to start a little vegetable garden last year but it had been a resounding failure, meaning the little cottage was surrounded by weeds that choked the path. At this point the locals probably thought it was haunted. 

It was still a long way off. Two more hours to base where they could switch out the army issued truck for his own modern and well kept pick up and MacTavish’s frankly ridiculous little hatchback that should really not be able to handle the country roads leading to the safe house but was somehow still kicking. He swore he was some sort of car witch.

“Don’t worry Captain, I’m too classy to have a gag reflex!” Gaz shouted over to him with Soap snickering in the background.

“That right? Lieutenant.”

Price laughed at the carnage happening in the back of the truck as Ghost pounced on Gaz and tried to shove fingers down his throat to get him to gag while Soap took Gaz’s side as he almost always did when it came to a fight with Ghost and tried to fight him off. The rough housing in the back at least kept them occupied for a little bit while Price lit up a cigar.

He wasn’t paying as much attention to the road as he ought to, but then this stretch of road was almost always empty. They were more or less in the middle of nowhere, the nearest civilisation being some fancy gated community out past the right side of the forest this road cut through. 

Only 5 hours to go now and at least 3 of those would be done in his much more comfortable truck with climate control and not this tin can. 

Ghost chuckled as Johnny grabbed at Gaz’s top, trying to pull him back into the truck as Ghost was shoving him out. Poor Gaz’s top half was dangling precariously out the back and he could barely breathe through the wheezing laughter. Ghost was someone with fast instincts, so he felt Gaz tense and was immediately on guard even before the man yelled out and started scrambling to launch himself out of the back of the truck and onto the road before Price had a chance to properly stop the thing. 

“Stop the truck!”

“Bloody hell, Garrick get your arse back in here!” Price yelled and cursed as he brought the truck to a stop a little ahead of where Gaz had jumped out.

Ghost had a hand locked around Soap’s nape, the Lieutenant knowing if he didn’t keep the man grounded he would be out of this truck and by Gaz’s side without even stopping to check for danger. Price trusted him enough that he stayed put, watching the two of them who were watching out the back to see what Garrick did.

–

There was a man on the road. You were so sore and so tired, your adrenaline nearly exhausted. You had gotten so close, the road was right there. But he was one of your husband's you thought. Not one you recognised, but the casual clothes with military gear was just like your guards. 

The choice now was how hard to fight. It hardly felt like you could fight anymore, but somewhere in the woods you had made the decision that you were not going back. Better you die with your daughter than allow her to die alone. You hoped this man was ruthless and efficient about it, that he made this quick. You had to make sure he killed you. You were not going back. 

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Kyle and I can help. Are you hurt?”

He sounded painfully kind and that felt unfair. It had been so long since you had been afforded kindness, why now? Maybe this was your last meal. 

“I- I won’t go back” you said, screwing up your courage and trying to stand as straight and strong as you could with the exhaustion and pain blanketing your body. 

The man slowly moved one hand to take off his cap while the other was stretched open in front of him. He was showing you he wasn’t armed you thought as his cap was put on the ground and he raised his other hand to show it was also empty and crouched a little lower than his full height. 

“Ok, I’m not going to make you go back anywhere. I just want to help” he said, gentle.

Throughout the years you had learned not to trust. When you were 10 and your mother had promised you a birthday party but then spent the money on a night out to the pub for her and your father instead. When you got your first period and you asked your father what you should do but he just smacked you for telling him something so disgusting. When your husband promised he would be gentle on your wedding night and it wouldn’t hurt, but he broke both promises. When a maid promised to help you escape but instead told your guard your plan. Your husband had fucked her in front of you while you were laying unable to move from the beating. You had never seen him be so gentle.

You so wanted to trust someone and not have it backfire. Just once. Just enough to give you some hope that your daughter could have a good life with people who would look out for her. But when he shuffled a little closer you flinched and stepped back. It was too hard to try and trust him. 

The movement put you more in the dappled early evening sunlight. It would be dark soon. 

– 

Kyle fought to keep himself relaxed even when the light revealed what he had missed before. The scared woman in front of him was pregnant. Couldn’t have been very far along with how small she was. Her face was a mess of bruises. He wanted to hunt down whatever useless piece of shit had done this to her. 

But he had to stay calm for her sake. He couldn’t start demanding information when he hadn't even managed to get close enough to examine her. He needed to get her far away from the danger first, get her medical attention and then get justice once she was happy and healthy and safe. 

It also needed to be quick. This was a woman who was running, so it stood to reason there was somebody chasing. But how did he convince her to get into a truck with a bunch of armed strangers?

She startled, looking like she had seen… ah fuck, Ghost had hopped out of the truck and walked over.

“You know how to use a gun?” he asked her, almost casual despite the grit behind it.

She shook her head and her eyes widened as Ghost lifted his sidearm into his hands. Kyle thought perhaps his Lieutenant had lost his damn mind when he started calmly explaining the basics of the gun before stepping forward, putting it on the ground and stepping back again.

“Sergeant, back up” he ordered and Kyle reluctantly took a few steps back. “You need help and we can give it. You pick up that gun, get in the truck and if any of us touches you without your permission you point and shoot. We’re about two hours out from a military base, there’s a doctor there who can check you over, make sure the baby is ok.”

Maybe Ghost was a genius or maybe he was a maniac, but then it wasn’t the first time he had flirted with that line. Kyle watched the woman hesitantly move forward. She reminded him of a little mouse approaching a piece of cheese. When she got close enough she darted suddenly and grabbed the gun, holding it up to them. Her arms were shaking.

He was used to the sounds of a bullet firing by now, but he still felt himself jump when she fired out into the woods on the other side of them.

“Y-you actually gave me a loaded gun?” she said breathlessly, seeming almost outraged that Ghost would truly do such a thing. Kyle sympathised.

“You feel better?” Ghost answered, nodding his head to the truck where Soap was watching with rapt attention. 

“...yes” the woman said before walking (although he noted it was more limping) over to the truck and letting Ghost help her in only after trying herself and realising she wouldn’t be able to hop up and keep ahold of the gun at the same time. 

–

The man in the skull mask didn’t ask any questions and he seemed entirely nonplussed about the gun pointed at him as the eerily silent truck took off. The other two in the back seemed nervous and the man driving hadn’t interacted with you at all, instead keeping his attention on the road. 

Skull mask made a call and his voice sounded like a shout with how quiet it was.

“I need you at Stirling Lines in 2 hours… yeah, needs to be you for this… send me the standard form and I’ll get the answers over to you… she doesn’t need delicate from me, she needs help… thanks for this, see you then.”

The one that shared a bench on your side with the mohawk looked increasingly alarmed at the conversation. 

“LT…” he started, some worried warning in his tone. 

The LT ignored him, looked at his phone and then looked up to you after seemingly finding what he was looking for. 

“Name, gender and birth date?”

“I… what?”

“Jesus Christ LT!”

“I need to get information for the nurse I have meeting us at base” the LT said, ignoring the mohawk man’s outrage and staring at you with those unsettling eyes sunken behind the mask. “The questions are going to be invasive. The exam is going to be worse and it’s going to take hours.”

“That’s enough Lieutenant” the man driving hissed, only to be equally as ignored as the Lieutenant's eyes stayed on you.

“Get through it. Get through it to spite the bastard.”

You felt a flutter of panic try to take hold. Your adrenaline was gone so it was hard to even feel that, but he thought… they all thought you had been raped. 

“It’s not… I’m married” you said by way of explanation. 

The atmosphere was tense, but after you said that there was a distinct feeling of sadness coming from mohawk and Kyle, a feeling of pity. The skull mask had no such pity emanating from him. 

“He told you that because you’re married you couldn’t say no. Reinforced that. It’s brainwashing and you can break that. It wasn’t marriage they used as a reason for me, but they tried to brainwash me to think I consented to it just the same. I didn’t and neither did you. Spite the bastard.”

Nobody else spoke for the next 2 hours but you and the man in the skullmask. He asked questions and you answered them. At the start you took time to answer, hesitant from the humiliation coursing through you and making you feel sick. An hour in and you had no emotions left to give, only cold answers that floated through the truck and hung in the air like the twisted body of the saviour had hung on your bedroom wall, watching and judging. 

By the time the truck was pulling through to a base you felt rinsed of everything, numb. The only shred of warmth came from the hand holding yours and you could not remember exactly when the man with the mohawk had put it there. 

–

“Simon…”

“It’s not like you hadn’t read my file sir.”

Price had read his file. He knew what Roba had done to this man. It didn’t make it any less jarring to hear his Lieutenant say it out loud in the back of a damn truck with a strange beaten woman and his two Sergeants who until now had no real idea of his past.

“You solid?” he asked, not wanting to push him to talk about anything he didn’t want to. 

“I’m angry.”

He knew that from Simon’s record too. It had taken a while for him to be cleared after Roba because he was so angry all the time, his aggression too volatile for even the military. This whole situation was bringing up old wounds in his Lieutenant and he was lost with what to do about it. 

“Lieutenant Riley” came a call from the nurse finally leaving the exam room. She had an American accent, Southern. He suspected she was probably the one who saw Simon after Roba considering that had been in Texas.

“Appreciate you coming on short notice” Simon replied with a nod of thanks. 

“Consider it payback for getting me my visa. No point in mincing words, it’s bad.”

“Consider it a matter of national security” Price said.

Technically he shouldn’t be told anything about the state of the woman in that exam room without her consent, but then it would not be the first time he got around GDPR citing national security. The nurse was clearly versed in how the military worked and handed over the clipboard she was holding. Simon read along with him over his shoulder.

“Bleeding Christ. She’s 21 weeks?” he asked, shocked.

“Long term malnutrition. She wasn’t given any control over her food. They gave her enough to keep her alive, but nowhere near healthy.”

“This…” Simon started, looking at the results from the x-rays.

“Consistent with prolonged torture. Some of the breaks never healed right. She’s still healing from a fracture and some ligament tearing in the left leg, a few broken ribs and a crack in her orbital bone. She said he had been more careful with her since finding out she was pregnant.”

Price swore loudly. He saw plenty of civilian casualties. He had caused the deaths of innocent people in the pursuit of saving other innocents. He was no stranger to evil. But this wasn’t a terrorist attack. It wasn’t a hostage in a facility. The woman was just an ordinary person who was being tortured for no large cause, not for the advancement of some twisted doctrine. She was being tortured for the crime of being a wife.

“Can you keep it off record?” 

He was a bit taken aback that Simon was asking that. Surely they wanted this on record? But then he followed that action to its conclusion. They found her near a community that very rich people lived in, it followed that this husband had money to spare. They would know she was missing by now and they would know the radius of where she could have reached by car or train. 

The second she was admitted to a hospital as a malnourished and beaten pregnant woman she would go missing. He wouldn’t trust the police as far as he could throw them to protect a domestic abuse victim when the perpetrator was rich and powerful enough to track her down and pay them off. The military wasn’t any better. Hell he knew of monsters in his own department who would insist on taking her for a spin before handing her over. 

“I’ll talk with her” he said, Simon giving him a grateful nod. 

Somehow he needed to convince that woman that she was coming to the safehouse with them until they could deal with her husband along with every single one of his accomplices. They wouldn’t make it to prison.

–

You wanted so badly to sleep but the alarm in your head wouldn’t let you. You couldn’t possibly be safe. You were never safe. 

The nurse had been kind in her examination. She said this was specifically what she was trained for, that you were not alone. Others had been through this and survived. Others had went on to have brilliant and bright lives while their attackers had turned into insignificant, small creatures in their memories. You still found it hard to think of your husband as your attacker. All you had known growing up was that the man of the household owned the women in it and it was his prerogative how he handled them.

You hadn’t been allowed to shower first even though you wanted to. It was strange to think that it was deemed lucky that you weren’t permitted to shower outside of your hour preparation time and that you hadn’t been given that hour since your husband had last used you for his pleasure. He knew you desperately hated having to lay with his spend inside of you. You had begged your guard to let you clean up properly before getting your ultrasound, but he had only smiled as he said no. Of course he had. He was well versed in experiencing your humiliation and your husband was well versed in creating situations for him to do so. 

It was painful when she had examined you internally. She told you that it shouldn’t be, that you associated penetration with pain now so your body was seizing up making the speculum feel much worse than it normally would. She apologised, said that was something that wouldn’t happen forever once you got healthier and knew you were safe. You could hardly believe it when she told you sex wasn’t supposed to hurt for women.

You hadn’t thought you were capable of it after today, but you still cried when she did the ultrasound. There she was, still alive and well. You wanted to tell her it would be ok now, that you had done it, you had gotten away and she would be safe. But it didn’t seem real.

The exam had taken such a long time. Your clothes had been taken from you and the thin gown did nothing to make you feel less exposed. She wanted to take the bank notes stuffed into your pocket as well, promising that they would be replaced, but you had begged to keep them and she had let you. The MRI wasn’t mentioned when the nurse had first explained everything, but part way through she had asked if it would be ok for one to be taken. She made sure that you didn’t have to interact with anyone else but her which calmed you a little. 

Now you were alone. She told you that she would let you gather your thoughts and then a shower and clothes could be organised.

You needed to figure out your next move. £410 wasn’t a lot of money, but it would have to be enough to get your daughter somewhere safe. You could work. Your last job had been as a waitress when you were a teenager, but you were good at cooking and cleaning and willing to learn just about anything so you were determined you would find something. You didn’t have much choice. 

There was a knock at the door and you told them to come in. Your voice sounded awful, scratchy and hoarse. 

It was not the nurse. 

The man from the front of the car didn’t look at you unkindly, but it did not stop you from flinching as he stepped towards you. You wished you hadn’t let Kyle take the gun from you when you arrived. 

He immediately stopped and showed his hands just like Kyle had on the road. 

“My name is Captain John Price, the men in the truck are my team. You’ve been brave today and I know it’s been hard. I can get you a shower and some hot food, how does that sound?”

You felt yourself shrivel and shrink. A shower with him. You hated being in a shower with your husband, he always forced you to your knees. Whenever he gave you a chance to breathe it was only under the high pressure spray of the water and it made you feel like you were suffocating. He liked that. 

Could you get on your knees for this man? If it was for your daughter, if it kept her safe, then yes. It wasn’t so bad was it? You had survived worse. It was just your mouth. 

You stood shakily and nodded, eyes fixed on the ground as you picked up the bank notes on the side table and held them tightly in your hand. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I…” you started, taking a moment to try and think of a lie before giving in to the mental exhaustion and just telling the truth. “I stole it from my guard’s wallet.”

“Atta girl.”

The praise made your ears feel hot. You had half expected to be arrested on the spot, but the man, Captain John Price, just started leading you out of the room and down the hall to the showers. 

“Soap, that’s the moppet with the mohawk from the truck, volunteered some of his things. He’s a bit of a peacock, so there should be everything you need. It’s a communal shower but I’ll stand guard at the door for you so nobody will come in. You can lock the door, but if I knock I need you to answer so I can confirm you’re ok. Towels are here, clothes here. We don’t have anything for maternity so we’ve guessed on what size will fit.”

You were taken aback. He wasn’t going to be in here with you. You didn’t need to service him. Your grip tightened around the cash in your hand before loosening as you looked at it. 

“Don’t even think about it. You don’t owe anyone here a damn thing. Go shower.”

With that he left. You locked the door and waited for 10 minutes to see if he would unlock it from the other side and come in. He only knocked once and when you responded that you were fine he was silent again. 

Satisfied that at least you didn’t think he would come in you stripped off and finally had a shower. The hair products and shower gel left by Soap (you thought that was a funny coincidence) smelled nice, like pine and maybe a hint of something sweet. Your husband only ever let you use things with a heavy smell of roses.

The nurse had asked what you meant by preparing yourself when you mentioned that you hadn’t done so and escaped instead. She told you that you didn’t need to do that here, but then there wasn’t any of the equipment you were used to anyway. It felt luxurious in a way, to clean yourself just for yourself. 

The next time Captain Price knocked and you confirmed that you were ok, he kept speaking with you. 

“I would like you to come with me and my team. We are heading to a safehouse a few hours from here and it’ll be the safest place for you to recover. You would have your own room with a lock on the door.”

You were glad nobody could see the way your face screwed up in some grotesque mixture of fear, confusion and, worst of all, hope. 

“I… have money. I can pay rent.”

“...ok.”

He sounded somewhat reluctant to accept that but you couldn’t not pay for this. You would constantly be waiting for one of them to collect in some other way if you didn’t give them cash. 

You touched your stomach, silently asking your daughter if it was ok to trust this man. She gave a kick. 

–

Johnny didn’t think he had ever seen anyone so fragile. She had fought it Price had said, but eventually their new housemate had fallen into an exhausted sleep in the passenger seat of his truck. 

When they arrived it had been him who bundled her in his arms and carried her to bed. God she was so small for someone who was supposed to be halfway through a pregnancy.

He had watched her since Gaz had jumped out of that truck. She had flinched then, she had flinched when Si got out of the truck, she had flinched when Price had went into the room (he probably shouldn’t have been hiding out in the hallway watching through the open door, but he just couldn’t stop himself). 

She hadn’t flinched at all when he threaded his fingers through hers in the truck. Her hand was so tiny. Too tiny, much like the rest of her.

He put her to bed in his room since the spare was a bit of a wreck and he bunked with Gaz. They could sort it all out tomorrow after he had gotten her a massive breakfast. He was shite at cooking anything but a greasy fry up but he wanted only the best for her, so he’d already fired off a message to the girl who owned the best cafe in town and asked for a priority breakfast delivery that he was going to be paying a fortune for since it was last minute and out of the ordinary. 

He didn’t know this woman, but he knew intrinsically that he would.

–

You dreamt sweet dreams. A cottage made cosy. Cooking whatever meals you wanted with ingredients you grew yourself in the garden outside. The gentle pleasure of careful hands and tongues, opening you up to a new world you never thought existed, one where your pleasure was first and foremost and the press of a body into yours didn’t hurt. The give beneath your fingers when you touched your own body, fat and soft rolls that reminded you of how safe you felt, how happy and healthy you were. 

And a little girl running towards a returning hero, being swept up and laughing delightedly about it. 

Best of all in that wonderful dream, you didn’t flinch once. 

[sakuhina]

i have a driving license exam tomorrow and am not ready at all

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 2)

Part one here

Okay, so that's how I think the pre-creation scene and Gabriel's arc connect to Aziraphale's choice. I also think the ineffable bureaucracy speedrun exists to prove totally different things to Aziraphale and Crowley: Aziraphale loves that they can love each other but notes they have to run away to be together; Crowley sees this and immediately thinks "hey, we can do that too!", forgetting that running away is not a solution Aziraphale has ever been interested in. It's the mentality of an individualist vs a group-oriented mind, and neither of them is necessarily wrong, it's just that their priorities are different and they HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT, which they don't.

Continued analysis under the cut:

3. Let's take the Job minisode. Why include it? We already mentioned that it proves Aziraphale remembers Crowley as an angel, since he mentions it. And he believes Crowley is the same person he always was, and that he doesn't want to harm Job's crops or animals or children. Crowley tries to convince him he's a Big Bad Demon who is all in on this assignment, but fails utterly to kill even a single goat, soooo... Aziraphale comes to the conclusion that he knows what Crowley wants. Alert! Alert! This is a big problem! Crowley says, "What do you know about what I want?" Aziraphale: "I know you." Crowley: "You do not know me." But because Aziraphale got it right this time, he goes ahead assuming he'll always get it right, which is a crucial failure when it comes to the final reckoning. He doesn't ever ASK Crowley what he wants, he just assumes. When you assume you know what someone wants, you usually assume their priorities align with yours... he couldn't be more wrong about that. The Job minisode sets up this dynamic for them, and they never really manage to change it.

The other thing happens at the end of the minisode. Crowley acknowledges two crucial points: 1) he's lonely ("But you said it wasn't!" "I'm a demon. I lied"), 2) he doesn't think Aziraphale would like Hell. Aziraphale DOESN'T like Hell. Aziraphale hates Hell for what they've done to Crowley. He doesn't see Heaven as innocent or benign, but importantly, Heaven has never tried to hurt Crowley directly. They never threatened his safety. They never tortured him (as it's heavily implied that Hell did). Fast forward to the last ten mins of season 2: Aziraphale excited to tell Crowley that he can be an angel again BECAUSE: he never has to go back to Hell. They can never hurt him again, not the way they did before. And he doesn't have to be lonely anymore.

Last point before I leave Job: Crowley has the chance to cause Aziraphale to Fall, here, probably. ("I lied to Heaven to thwart the will of God!" "You did, but I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you? ...good, then nothing has to change.") He doesn't take it. He doesn't want Aziraphale to be a demon. He loves Aziraphale as he is. "Angel" as an affectionate. Aziraphale certainly doesn't use "demon" as a pet name for Crowley. I think they set up this scene to contrast the final one, and show how deeply hurt Crowley is that Aziraphale suggest he change.

4. Moving on to Victorian Scotland. This one confused me at first. I was delighted that they brought back the "the lower you start the more opportunity you have to rise" dialogue from the book, but apart from that I didn't really see the point of it. It seems like the statue of Gabriel and the fact that he and Beelz ended up at that pub in the present were more or less coincidental.

The point, I think, is actually not the girl, but the doctor. He's a person who is trying to do good by working in a system that's deeply flawed, and engaging in questionable moral practices for the greater good. (Cadaver dissection is still an essential part of medical school. You need dead bodies to understand living ones.) He shows Aziraphale a tumor he removed from a child who died, and Aziraphale clutches it to his chest. The camera zooms in and lingers to tell us that this is a guardian through and through. He wants to protect people. He wants to do good with every fiber of his being.

To Crowley, it's enough to just "be an us" with Aziraphale. He doesn't really want anything more than that. That's an issue! For one thing, it fosters unhealthy codependency, and for another, Aziraphale would never be happy without the opportunity to help and protect people. It's an essential part of who he is. Metatron knows that, and he plays Aziraphale like a fiddle. The doctor showed Aziraphale that you can make a difference even in systems that are flawed, and even if you have to do things you'd rather not do. Aziraphale doesn't want to go back to Heaven, but he truly thinks he can change things; thinks he can be a guardian with some real power. In his mind, that's the right thing to do.

Last thing that happens in Scotland: Crowley saves a soul from Hell, arguably, by preventing a suicide. He gets in Big Trouble. Whatever happened to him downstairs resulted in him coming back up, leaning on a cane, and asking Aziraphale to give him holy water. Go back and watch that scene knowing what we know now about the Victorian minisode. Ask yourself how Aziraphale must have felt. He likely blamed himself for what happened, because if he hadn't meddled then they never would have been there in the first place. He knew where Crowley was, and why he was there, and he had to sit with that knowledge for years. He desperately wants Crowley to be safe; is perfectly willing to push him away to keep him safe-- which is what he does do, the minute Crowley gets back.

Now think again about what Metatron offered him. A chance to keep Crowley safe forever. He'd never be harmed again. Aziraphale is going to take that offer, no matter what else is asked of him. He's shown over and over again that he'll sacrifice his own happiness to make sure nothing happens to Crowley. And he'll do it without talking to Crowley about it first, because he is a moron who doesn't know how to use his words. Leading Crowley to assume that Aziraphale doesn't love him. The idiot angel is doing it all out of love, but because he doesn't make himself clear Crowley doesn't know that.

Part 3: Maggie and Nina, and their roles as mirror couple/ Greek chorus!

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 24)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,511

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

Things slowly begin to enter a new normal.

You go to class, see your friends, and spend most nights with your boyfriend, licking, teasing, tasting each other on every available inch of skin you can find. The five of you hang out as a group and you’ve never been happier.

You’re even passing art history, thanks to Azriel’s fool-proof system of studying; a sexual favor in exchange for every correct answer you give.

For the most part, everything seems like a dream. Compared to the beginning of your year, it is. There's still that niggling feeling inside of you that you just can’t seem to get over, though. As you sit in the art building working on your project for Alis’ class, you’re not entirely sure what to do. It’s the last assignment before the semester ends and you’ve started and restarted the drawing three times already, all of your attempted creativity fizzling out within hours.

Now, with only two days to go before it’s due for critique, you’re on the cusp of tears. It’s not from lack of trying, but because you’ve been forcing yourself to tap into your inner creative and find your muse. You want to create something that you’re proud of, but there’s nothing for your heart to grasp onto, no genius ideas that make you want to pour your soul onto the paper.

You’re starting to think that you might fail this class.

Feyre had offered to tag along, but she’s already finished her project fairly quickly after the assignment was given out, and things have been a bit awkward between you and Lucien since he found out that you and Azriel are officially dating. 

Naturally, the event had occurred after one of your drawing classes. It almost felt like deja vu, with the way Azriel was waiting outside of the building. This time, you were more than happy to see your boyfriend, who was leaning up against the side of his motorcycle, helmet tucked under his arm with a second one perched beside him. 

You could admit that you’re starting to enjoy riding on his motorcycle with him. He’s even taken you to his favorite spot where he often goes to draw or think, escaping the stressors of his life back on campus such as his father pestering him about the buying building he lives in. He hasn’t responded to a single text message.

“(Y/N), hold up a minute,” Lucien said, stopping you from going down the stairs of the building to meet your boyfriend with a hand on your shoulder. Feyre continues downward after you gently wave her on, but you don’t miss the way Azriel’s eyes narrow.

“What’s up, Luc?” you ask, although you already know what he’s wondering. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that whatever you and Azriel had started out as is now the complete opposite. He’s no longer your infuriating neighbor, but the boy you you’re slowly starting to fall—

Thankfully, Lucien interrupts the thought before you can dwell on it too long. “What’s going on with him?” he asks, jerking his head to where Feyre and Azriel are talking quietly. The latter watches you and Lucien’s exchange intently. “I thought you two hated each other, but now you’re hanging out with him all of the time? Did I miss something?” 

A pang of guilt gnaws at your stomach. You feel bad for not telling Lucien about your newfound romance with Azriel, but you’ve been wanting to tell him over lunch or coffee, but with the end of the semester projects and tests coming up, the both of you had been too busy to properly hang out.

Your cheeks heat and it’s hard to look him in his eyes when he looks so confused. “Yeah, um, Azriel and I are sort of dating now.”

Lucien frowns, “Sort of?” 

“We are,” you shake your head, answering more solidly this time. “We’re dating.” 

You don’t miss the hurt that flashes through his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

You sigh, kicking and digging the tip of your shoe into the concrete for something to focus on. You don’t like the way that Lucien is looking at you, like you’re no longer his friend, which isn’t the case at all. Sure, you know that for whatever reason he and Azriel don’t see eye-to-eye, and you can admit that you’ve only fed into that storyline by spending most of your time these days with Azriel and not taking the proper time to check in with your friend, but right you feel like you’re the one at blame for not reaching out.

It seems as if Azriel has had enough, pushing up from his motorcycle to ascend the stairs. His strides are long, sure, and his spine straightens with each step closer he takes, shoulders widening and chest puffing. 

“Hey, princess.” 

“Azriel,” you greet with a nervous smile, accepting the way he tucks you into his side and presses a kiss to your cheek. His hand is firm against your hip and you enjoy the way he feels, the way he allows you to siphon some of his strength for this conversation. “This is Lucien. Lucien, this is Azriel.” 

The two boys stare at each other, sizing one another up. It makes you shift on your feet but Azriel’s hold only tightens, showing you off, staking his claim.

It’s awkward, to say the least. Neither of them greet each other and it's as if they’re both waiting for the other to look away first so the other can snap at their neck like a rabid dog. You shoot a look towards Feyre but her head is buried in her phone, an enormous smile on her face, completely oblivious to the pissing contest that’s happening up the stairs.

A muscle ticks in Lucien's jaw before he rips his gaze away from Azriel to settle back on yours. He gives you a single nod, and you’re not sure how to feel when his throat works around a swallow, his normally honeyed voice coming out rougher. “I have to go, actually, before I’m late. I’ll see you around, (Y/N).” 

“Lucien,” you call, but he’s already turned down the stairs and is brushing past Feyre, whose eyebrows furrow with concern at the sight of your friend. She tries to speak to him but he brushes her off gently, and when her heavy blue-gray eyes settle on you, you deflate into Azriel’s side. 

You feel similarly to how you did then, defeated and glum. The piece of drawing paper before you is filled with the darkness from your charcoal, your fingers coated in the chalky substance, and the shapes you’d been sketching stare back at you, taunting you, because no one is going to be able to finish this except for you.

It’s a fairly simple task, to draw yourself as some sort of hybrid, but as you look in the mirror hanging to your left, you can’t seem to figure out what kind of creature resonates with you. Feyre had drawn herself as some sort of beast, her true self, she claimed. When you had asked Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel what they had done when they took their drawing classes, Rhysand said he drew himself with dragon features, Cassian morphed himself with a grizzly bear, and Azriel had drawn himself with the bat wings inked across his back.

The last time you spoke with Lucien before your relationship became strained, he’d been drawing half of his face as a fox, and you’d seen one of the other girls in your class, Vassa, you think her name is, drawing herself as a phoenix. Everyone seemed to light up with their ideas immediately when Alis had announced the final project, and you had only ducked your head, unsure of what to do.

Voices trickling down the hall startle you from your thoughts. You set your chalk down as you recognize the tenor, the laughter echoing around the silent building. Azriel and Cassian appear in the doorway to the classroom. Cassian’s splattered with clay from having been working on his own final project of the year, something he’s been boasting about but refuses to tell anyone what it is, and the smile that lights Azriel’s face when his eyes connect with yours is perfect.

You hadn’t realized how tense your shoulders had been, but the way they deflate at the sight of him makes you realize just how tired you are. There isn’t much time left until your project is due, and you’re sure to remind yourself that once again, you need to focus.

But the way Azriel’s eyes drag down your hands, coated in soot from the charcoal, flaring with heat, you’re forgetting your deadline and the project you’ve barely started completely. 

“Hey, princess,” Azriel greets, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your mouth. You can’t help but to slant against him a little, your energy from your long night sapped. His hand caresses your cheek and he frowns a little, examining your exhausted and frustrated state.

Your heart flutters at the warmth, at the care he shows you. How he isn’t afraid to hide his hands from you because you’ve spent night after night showing him just how much they mean to you. 

“Hi,” you reply with a soft yet strained smile, you turn to Cassian next. “Hey, Cass.” 

“Hey (Y/N). How’s the art project coming along?” 

You sigh, leaning further into Azriel’s warmth. “Not amazing, if I’m being honest.” 

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asks, “It looks like you have a solid start.” 

You crinkle your nose, examining your paper. It looks more abstract than anything, and you wonder for a moment if Azriel’s just being nice about it. But you know him better than that, and he would never tease you about a craft so dear to both of your hearts. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you groan.”I’ve started over three times.” All you want to do is throw your head in your hands but you don’t want to get chalk all over your face, unless Azriel is the one putting it there. Naked.

Maybe having sex will help get your creativity flowing?

Your boyfriend frowns for a moment, examining your work. You can see the cogs turning in his head, how he might help you figure out what to draw for your project. Of course, you could easily draw any animal mixed with yourself, but you really want this one to have meaning behind it. 

“Why don’t you take a break and we can all grab something to eat?” Azriel suggests. “A break might do you some good, and Cass and I were going to head over to Ritas.” 

A hot waffle and a large milkshake sounds absolutely superb right now, to be honest.

You stare at the paper before you. You really should stay and put in a few more hours of work, but at the same time you can’t stand to stare at it any longer. 

Two more days. You still have two more days.

“Yeah, I could use a snack,” you agree, picking up your pencil box from the floor and tossing your sticks of chalk into it. “Give me a few minutes to pack up.” You stand from your art horse, eyeing the mess of black. “You should too, Cassian. You’re covered in clay.”

He only grins and you—once again—regret saying anything to him. “The ladies like it dirty, (Y/N). But you know a little something about that, don't you?”

You try to force the warmth from your cheeks as you think of just how thorough Azriel had been the last time he drew you. How up close and personal he’d gotten with his stick of charcoal, how up close and personal he let you get with some paints you’d bought. 

Sometimes you love being an artist.

“Fuck off, Cass,” Azriel gripes, flipping your large sketchpad shut. He helps you pack your things while Cassian snickers, and his eyes are hot when you rub your hands together, trying to dispel the dust from them. He slings your backpack over his shoulder and your sketchpad under his arm while you dart off to wash your hands before Azriel can get any ideas. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Rita’s is…bustling for a Friday night. 

It looks completely different from when you’d been here last. No sign of the irritable waitress, no sign of anything really, you’re unable to see through the mass of the crowd, stuffed in booths and gyrating in whatever open space is left.

The lights are low. A colorful disco ball spins in the center of the diner that you hadn’t even noticed your first time here. Spots of color percolate around the room, seeming to guide the students on the little dancefloor as they sway their bodies, the tables lined up against the walls for this purpose.

“Rhys and Feyre are on their way,” Cassian says, reading a message on his phone before swiping at the screen. You don’t see the way that his eyes darken at whatever notification pops up because Azriel’s tugging you through the crowd.

The air is hot with bodies and laughter and as you make your way through the throng of people, you’re glad Azriel had talked you into a quick pit stop at the apartment to put your things away, as if he had known the diner would look like this tonight. He must spend more time here than you thought because he eases through the crowd, shoulders lax, letting the clubby music pouring from the jukebox wash over him.

“Are you sure this is Rita’s?” you call over Azriel’s shoulder, genuinely confused to how the dingy daytime diner has turned into this delightful nighttime dance party.

He tosses you a smile over his shoulder that makes your heart flutter.

“It’s where all of the cool kids go before and after the bars,” Cassian teases when Azriel finally finds an empty spot for the three of you to stand. He’s scouring the restaurant as if he’s looking for someone and returns his hazel gaze to you with a lazy grin. “C’mon, (Y/N), it’s like you don’t even go here.”

You roll your eyes, grumbling a little as Azriel pulls you to his front, settling his hands on your hips. The music is surprisingly loud but it’s good, causing you to roll your hips a little with the rhythm. Your boyfriend’s grip tightens, pulling you closer, and you can feel the interested bulge in his pants as his breathing turns heavier with your motions. 

“Spent most of my time at house parties last year,” you answer, shouting over the volume of the bar. “I’m hardly of drinking age, lest you forget.” You lean towards Cassian so he can hear you, pressing your ass further into Azriel’s cock. His thumb sneaks under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your exposed skin, sending a shiver up your spine. 

As if he isn’t the one that brought you here, he seems to have changed his mind fairly quickly.

“In that case, allow me to buy you a drink, my lady,” Cassian bows a little, taking his time eyeing the lower region of a girl that passes by. “What are you having?” 

You shrug, no longer in the mood for a milkshake. You scan the crowd, flickering over everyone on the dancefloor as you mull it over. “Something with rum,” you answer, and you don’t even think he’s listening anymore as the girl gives him a salacious smile over her shoulder and he starts chasing tail. 

“Think he’s coming back?” you ask over your shoulder. Your squeal is eaten up by the changing of songs as your boyfriend spins you abruptly in his arms, plastering his hips against yours in a slow grind that matches the heavy bass that makes the crowd cheer in excitement. 

“Don’t care,” he breathes into the shell of your ear. He follows his words with a nip at your lobe and you bite your lip, winding your arms around his neck. 

“Azriel,” you tut, but you can’t stop looking at his lips. His stare is hot and his hold is demanding, keeping you glued to his front as you grind your hips against his teasingly. “Cassian is your friend.”

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name on your lips right now, princess,” Azriel all but growls, golden eyes igniting. 

“What do you want?” you ask breathlessly, your nipples tightening into pebbles beneath your shirt. 

You’re thankful no one’s eyes are on you right now, all lost in their own conversations or dances with their partners. You don’t think it would matter if they were looking anyway, because you’re so focused on Azriel and the way his body reacts to a simply press of your body against his, warmth flooding you the way it always does when he’s around, that you might need that drink poured over you to pull your attention from him. 

“First, I want to take you home,” his hand strokes a long line up your spine and he buries it in the hair at the nape of your neck. You gasp at his firm hold, arousal dripping to your core when Azriel uses that hand to guide your head away from him to suck at your neck. You arch into him, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Then, I’m going to strip you of all of these clothes,” his free hand grabs a handful of your ass and your approving hum sounds more like a moan. “And I’m going to ask you to ride me, princess. I want you to guide my cock into your tight, drenched pussy and take what you want, because you’re my needy girl, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” your nails rake down the back of his shirt.

“And when you’re cumming on my cock, squeezing me tight, I want you to—”

“Your drinks,” Cassian says gruffly, shoving a cup between you and Azriel. It forces him to stand straight, glaring absolute daggers at his best friend but it seems to bound off of Cassian’s shoulders easily, because he looks just as pissed.

You’re still a bit dazed, so it takes you a moment or two to figure out what’s going on. Azriel won’t let you leave your position, can’t let you leave your position because his boner if full on fucking raging right now, but he does allow you to turn around again, taking the drink from Cassian to quickly take a sip, trying to quench your parched throat.

“Thanks,” you say but Cassian hardly acknowledges it, passing a beer over to Azriel. He had two still clenched firmly in his free hand but he takes one and slams it back quickly, emptying its contents before Azriel’s even had a sip of his own. 

“You okay, Cass?” Azriel asks, his hand sliding protectively over your hip. There’s no need to protect you from Cassian, but even you can admit as you shift from one foot to the other, that it’s weird seeing him like this. Not as carefree as he normally is. 

“Fucking dandy,” Cassian grunts, hazel eyes grazing down where you and Azriel are still pressed tightly together. He looks away just as quickly and you think you see his lip curl a little.

Azriel stiffens behind you.

What the hell is going on with him?

Before you have the chance to ask or Azriel has the chance to bait him, Feyre’s pushing through the crowd, towing Rhys behind her. One girl glares at her as she passes but Feyre doesn’t seem to notice, eyes lit with happiness when they finally reach your little group, unaware of the clouds of tension bubbling around the three of you.

Cassian makes an effort not to choke down his entire second beer but it’s all too tempting. He takes a deep sip so he doesn’t have to speak.

“Hey,” she greets, cheeks a little flushed already. Rhysand and she must have been drinking before they came out. Or had sex. 

“Hi,” you respond, trying to keep your grip on your cup relaxed. Cassian is acting strange. You glance up at him again but he’s avoiding eye contact with everyone right now, glaring into the mass of people. Yup, definitely avoiding looking at any of you.

“Rhys,” you hear Feyre say as you share a confused look with Azriel. His brows are pulled tight as he examines one of his best friends. He’d seemed fine back at the art building, his normal cheery and cheeky attitude threatening to drive him up the wall, so what happened between then and now? “Will you go get me a drink, please?” 

“Of course, Feyre darling,” he agrees, but Cassian’s already shoving past him, muttering how he’ll get them drinks. Rhysand’s mouth parts but Cassian has already disappeared into the crowd. Well, as much as any six-foot-five man can disappear. “What’s his problem?” 

Azriel shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer. “If we only knew.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

TIME, CURIOUS TIME - L.C

Summary: the one where you first meet Luke and your entire world view changes.

Warnings: adoption, blood, character death

Wordcount: 3.6k

Masterlist: Time, passing

If there was one thing that people needed to know about you, it's that you don't like bullies. You hated them in fact.

There was an anger inside of you. A primal anger that oozes from your pores at every instance. You were angry at everything in life, your mother for giving you up for adoption, your father for ignoring you. You were angry at the world for every single bad thing that happened.

You had only been at camp for four months and you had gotten into eight separate fights. Just like normal. Just like in the Foster homes.

Now you were sitting in Chiron's office with a black eye. You had gotten into a fight with one of the kids again and was being punished for it. Even though you thought that the punching he had received had been deserved.

Your eyes were trained at your hands as they rested in your lap. You did not want to look up and see the disappointment in his eyes.

"You are one of the most interesting campers I've ever had," he said, breaking the silence.

You looked up at him. That was not what you had expected him to say after what you had done. You were expecting more of a lecture.

"Why?" you questioned.

"You've been here 4 months and already proved that you are a superb archer and swordsman, a brilliant medic. Yet you fail to stop yourself engaging in this tomfoolery," he explained.

You thought about all that he had listed to you. You were a child of Apollo after all, you should be good at all of those things and you weren’t surprised that he thought it was an accomplishment. You didn't want to be anything like your family.

There was silence and you looked at the centaur, “Am I expelled?”

He chuckled to himself almost incredulously, "No. We don't kick students out when they are troublesome,"

Troublesome. That was one word to describe you.

You had always been seen as the problem and the solution was always to send you away. You were a problem of the highest degree and everyone agreed. Even Chiron.

Chiron looked at you, arms folded across your chest as you rolled your eyes, "You know. If we didn't already know your godly parent, I would assume you were an Ares kid,"

you scoffed, looking up at him. You hated where he was coming from but it made sense. That anger in your bones was reminiscent of an Ares kid.

"That felt like an insult," you spat out, bitter. You didn't want to be compared to any of them monsters.

He tilted his head to the side, not understanding why you saw your anger as some sort of problem, "It's not. It's a compliment,"

You wanted to scoff at the idea. Anger was not a positive trait and nobody had ever noticed a single positive trait inside of you.

Silence fell over the room and you looked away from him, feeling shame bubble up in your chest at the way you were acting; you didn't mean to act like a spoiled brat.

"Anyway. I still have to punish you. So you will be sentenced to a week's worth of night shifts at the infirmary," he said.

Your head whipped up, "A week? I only broke his nose!" You could have done worse and you would have if your siblings hadn’t pulled you off of the teenage boy.

Chiron nodded, remembering the way that the sixteen year old boy cradled his face, blood dripping down his chin as he looked at the thirteen year old girl. He had never seen an Ares kid look so defeated by such a little camper.

"You still broke a fellow capers nose. And your dessert privileges will be taken away for that duration," He said.

He smiled at you and you stood up, mumbling a thank you under your breath before you walked outside. This was going to be hell.

If there was one thing that you hated more than anything, it was night duty. You looked around the medical bay and watched as the boy in there slept. He had a concussion and if it were up to you, he would be sent away but Chiron was a stickler to the rules - he needed 24 hour observation.

You walked around aimlessly, a cup of coffee in your hand.

Your life was a mess. You hated yourself. You hated the world. There was nothing here that made you want to stay and every day you looked out of that window in the Apollo Cabin, wondering if you would just leave. Its not like anyone would miss you.

That self loathing bubbled in your chest and you could feel it heavy on your chest.

This camp was supposed to be somewhere that all demigods are safe but in all truth, you had never been more lonely than you had been at Camp Half Blood. You felt abandoned by the Gods and the feeling was getting worse daily.

You were taken out of your thoughts by the sound of someone yelling. You brushed it off, everyone was always having nightmares at camp.

Then you heard them yelling for help and you realised something was wrong. Everyone would be asleep by now and you knew you would have to help.

You didn't want to play the hero. Everyone here acted like some sort of Greek hero and you hated it. But you knew you had to help so you looked around for something and spotted a sword at the side of the bed. You ignored the concussed teenager asleep in the bed as you picked the sword up, jotting down a note.

It was heavy in your hands and you didn't know how you would use it but knew you had to leave quickly. It was unbalanced, unnatural and you were not the best swordsman so you also picked up your bow and arrow, strapping that to your back before you ran off.

You rushed to the Big House for backup but as you got closer, you could hear the yells getting more desperate and knew there was no time. You had to help them and soon.

Muscle memory and adrenaline took you through the woods, trying to find where the voices were coming from.

You called out at the top of the hill, asking if there was anyone there but you heard nothing.

For a second, the noise had completely stopped and you felt your cheeks warm up. This had to be some sort of prank to get back at you for fighting the head of the Ares cabin.

You scoffed, turning around and preparing to leave. You could not believe that you fell for it and you could feel the embarrassment in your cheeks.

That's when you heard the little girls voice again, "Help! Somebody!"

You could see a figure by the camp sign now, illuminated by the fire. "Shit! Shit!"

There was no hesitation as you ran down the hill, not even stopping when you saw the fury hovering over the group of teenagers. There were four people there, one that you recognised as a satyr.

"Run annabeth! Take her Luke!" The main girl said, a large stick in her hands as she tried to bat the fury away.

You froze.

Fight or flight.

You could stay here and help the little girl as she held onto the boy's jacket or you could turn back and pretend that you haven't seen any of this. You knew the latter wasn't even an option.

"You don't have a real weapon!” The boy called out, eyes wide.

That's when you remembered you was there. You ran into the clearing and the kids turned to look at her in shock. They had not expected some hero to come out of the shadows but you were no hero, just someone who had stumbled into the situation.

You stepped into the clearing, "Here," you yelled out, throwing the girl the sword and she caught it quickly.

They all watched as you pulled your bow and arrow out, drawing it and taking a deep breath before shooting at the fury without any care for your own safety. At the same time, the punk looking girl stabbed the fury before being knocked to the floor.

The boy tucked the little girl into his chest as he watched the other girl get hit by the fury, falling over. He let out a yell.

You could only stand there and watch it all unfold. you didn't even know this girl's name and yet she was dying in front of you.

The little girl was sobbing now, the sounds muted as she tucked her head into the boys chest. He was trying to hide it but his chest was heaving up and down.

There was a second when the fury looked at you and you knew you were next. The fury was clutching its arm from where you had hit her. She looked at the camper, sneering before flying off. Her job was done.

In a matter of seconds, lightning struck the teenage girl and she began to turn into a tree, branches springing from her arms and greenery growing around her head.

There was silence. Nobody knew what to say, especially not you who was confused out of your mind.

You looked at the satyr and then you recognised him. He was the same one that saved you from that police station, "Grover, what's going on?” you asked, looking at the satyr.

His hands were shaking as he gestured towards them, "Meet our new residents of camp,"

"What the fu-" you pointed at the tree, yelling out in confusion, "What in the God's name is going on? She's a tree!"

The boy looked at you angrily and you recognised that look in his eye all too well, "The better question is who the hell are you?" The boy said defensively.

You threw your bow on the floor, adrenaline still coursing rapidly through your veins, "I saved your life," you spat the words out.

He walked over to you, towering over you and you wondered how old he was, "She still died," he spat out.

This close, you could see the cut on his jaw, the bruise growing on his shoulder and the tears that were drying on his cheeks. He looked almost ethereal in the fire light.

There was anger in both of your eyes and as you looked at him, you realised that nobody had ever looked at you like that. It was like looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You scoffed, ignoring the feeling in your chest, "I tried my best,"

Grover walked over, interrupting the two of them before they could get into a physical fight, "This is our Healer,"

There was silence as the two teenagers looked at one another, neither of them standing down. He seemed angry and it was understood but there was no need to take it out on you.

It was you who turned away first, "Come on in. You both need to be checked on and I'm working the night shift. Grover, go get Chiron,"

He nodded and when they reached the camp, Grover split off from the group to go to the Big House.

You could feel the tension in the air as you walked towards the medical hut. There was silence and you could remember how nerve wracking it was for you when you had arrived here. You felt a little bit rude for yelling at him now.

“This way,” you lead them to the medical bay and the boy with the concussion was out cold so you just turned the lights on, ushering the two inside.

You turned to the boy and decided not to make this too awkward, "How old is she?" You asked.

He narrowed his eyes at you before caving, "Seven," he said begrudgingly. He clearly didn't like you.

You turned to where the little girl was sitting on the bed and knelt down in front of her. You could remember how scared you were when you had arrived and you wanted to make it as comfortable for her as you could.

"What's your name, gorgeous?" You asked, trying to not scare her.

The little girl looked over your shoulder at the boy behind you and he nodded, arms folded across his chest. You was just making sure he thought that she was safe to talk

"Annabeth," she replied.

"That's such a pretty name. Now, tell me, does anything really hurt?" You asked with a smile.

She nodded and gestured down at her leg, "I twisted my ankle," she stated.

"Your ankle? Let me have a look," you sat down on the floor and looked up at the girl and she nodded. you then rolled up her trouser leg a little bit to look at it.

You examined it for a second, "It's a little swollen, do you want me to wrap it up?” Annabeth must have been so freaked out by all of this, you didn't want to scare her at all.

Annabeth nodded and you reached over to the side for some bandage and wrapped it around her ankle, tying it together before standing up.

You grabbed the Ambrosia, handing it to her, "Now. This is magic okay, you eat a little bit of this and it will male you feel better instantly,"

She was hesitant at first and then when she took a bite, she ate the whole bit. She smiled and looked at you, muttering a thank you.

You helped her up and then turned to look at the boy behind her, "I'll help your big brother now,"

Luke had been standing there the whole time, arms folded across his chest as he judged what you were doing. He didn't trust anything related to the Gods, especially not some weird medic.

"I don't need to be examined by a child," he said with a scoff

You looked at him again, narrowing your eyes, "I'm thirteen. I doubt you're much older than me,"

There was tension between the two young teenagers. Anyone worth a pulse could see it and they could tell that there was a shared anger between the two.

"Thirteen," he scoffed at the idea of you looking after him, "who taught you medical practices?"

You were starting to get mad. You couldn't understand why this kid wasn't going to just let you look after him when he needed it.

There was an anger at the gods on him that you recognised but there was no need to take it out on you.

"I'm a child of Apollo, i was born with it in my blood," You poked him in the chest before stepping back, "Now sit your ass down,"

He looked at Annabeth and she gave him a smile like she wanted him to get looked after. He sighed, he couldn’t let her down so he sat down on the bed.

You folded your arms across your chest, "Same question I asked Annabeth. Does anything really hurt?" You asked. You were mean to him, ignoring all of your bedside manners.

He shook his head, lips pursed together, "You didn't ask me what my name was,"

You sighed, folding your arms across your chest, "What's your name?" You asked, tone dripping in sarcasm.

"Luke," he looked over at Annabeth and the girl was smiling now and he smiled too. It was the first time he’d seen her smile in weeks, "And I'm fourteen,"

You looked down at the injury for a second, "This needs stitches," you said when you saw a wound in his shoulder, it had cut through his shirt and was starting to bleed a lot more.

You could tell that he knew that he needed to get helped but that he was so stubborn that he wasn't going to get it done. It was a pretty bad wound.

"I'll be fine," he turned his head away, stubborn, "I don't need your magic, i don't need any help for the Gods,"

You were starting to get mad at him now. He was stubborn, too stubborn, "I don't work for them," you said, scoffing, "Now do you want it stitched up or not?"

There was silence for a second and then he nodded his head. He knew that he needed help even if he was a little bit reluctant to it. You smiled with the knowledge that you had convinced him.

"Annabeth, can you go and get changed into these nice new clothes? You can go into that little room there," you picked up some spare clothes from a pile and handed them to her.

The girl smiled before walking away, "Thank you,"

"You’re welcome sweetheart," you watched as she walked away, closing the door.

You could feel your heart sink in your chest. You couldnt imagine having to come here at such a young age, it broke your heart.

You turned around and looked at Luke, a smirk growing on your face, "You're gonna have to take your shirt off,"

There was a second where you could see the blush riding to hours bells at the idea but he decided to just be annoying about it.

He was cocky about it, pulling his shirt off slowly before handing it to you. You had to hide the blush on your cheeks as you pulled up a stool, sitting in front of him.

The cut wasn't just on his shoulder, it spanned down a couple of centimetres through his chest. You placed the stool in front of him, sitting down.

"This is gonna sting," you said as you brushed the area with a disinfectant. He winced at the feeling of it on his cut, hand clutching onto the bed underneath him.

You muttered a sorry as you pulled the wipe away, placing it down before putting your gloves on and getting ready to stitch him back up.

You gave him a look, “You know, I could just give you ambrosia, then it would heal quicker,” you suggested.

He shook his head, “I dont want help from the Gods. We do this like mortals or not at all,”

You could tell something had really happened to him in his life to make him hate the gods so much and whatever it was it must have been bad.

“You’re decision,” you muttered as you started to sew him up, starting on the easier part on his chest and then moving up to the deep section on his shoulder.

He was tense and you didn't know what to do to try and calm him down, he just had to sit there and get on with it. You didn't want to hurt him.

As you reached the last stitch on his shoulder, pulling it tight and then tying it, he winced and then muttered a curse word under his breath. you looked up at him, feeling guilty.

"Sorry," you muttered under your breath, “But i'm done now,”

"No, I'm sorry. I was a jerk to you," he muttered your name quietly after that, almost like he felt embarrassed that he had remembered and you looked up at him. You didn't know that he had remembered your name.

You could feel your cheeks warmed up at the idea and you gave him a half hearted smile, "Thanks," you said, brushing another wipe over his chest and shoulder.

"I am sorry. My friend just died," he explained, tears burning in the back of his eyes at the thought.

"She had a Heroes death," you said before scoffing and then looking around to make sure that nobody could hear, "Not that that's worth anything. The Gods still let her die, they let them all die,"

Luke's face lit up as you said that. Nobody had ever shared his hatred towards the Gods before and all of the anger that he had towards you vanished in as second as he looked into your eyes.

His smile was infectious and you could feel one growing on your face just at the sight of him, "You're right! They're awful,”

There was another lightning strike and you could hear the thunder rumbling outside of the camp. Zeus did not like that criticism of his role as a father.

"Might not want to say that here," you said with a laugh.

Luke laughed too and you smiled at the sound, it was nice to hear someone laugh. He liked it as well, he couldn't remember the last time he laughed.

You smiled to yourself. You couldn't remember the last time that you had laughed with someone. It was nice to feel connected to someone, even if you’d only just met.

You handed him a camp shirt, assuming his size. He thanked you before pulling it over his head and then fixing his hair.

Annabeth walked out wearing one of your old shirts. You smiled, reaching your hand out and feeling the girl take it. She instantly cuddled up to you, not fully understanding what had happened that night.

You held close, eyes meeting Lukes. He reached forward, brushing a hand over Annabeth’s hair.

"You look great, I’m just gonna show you guys to the cabin a-" you started to explain before Chiron walked into the room.

They all went silent and as he looked at the group, Grover standing by his side, her knew this was it. There was a bad feeling in his chest and he knew that the prophecy that he had been fearing was going to come true soon. How did he know? Just a feeling.

A/N: Parts of this fic come from my other fic The Outsiders (linked here) so don't worry if it looks familiar or if you think it's plagiarised, I wrote both versions. If you want to read that you can.

This is the first part of a three chapter fic and this will be nothing like my book. This is a seperate fic, the start is just familiar.

Also. They are thirteen and fourteen in this chapter but by the time there is any romance, they will be 18. Please don't be weird about them.

[httpspedri26]

Turn back time - JB

Angst

Jude Bellingham x reader

Send requests!

Jude hated the feeling of being alone. Sure, he had his mother living with him, but he hated that the left side of his bed was empty. It had almost been 8 months since Jude joined Real Madrid, and 4 months since you left him.

It was his fault. Everything that had happened between you and him was his fault. You tried, god you tried so hard to save your relationship, but you failed miserably.

The last chance you gave him was 4 months ago, on November 16, your 3-year anniversary. You had made a whole plan, you made dinner, his favorite, and his mom had helped a little but left an hour before Jude was supposed to arrive home. But he never did. He never arrived, which left you alone on the couch waiting for him, and you were done waiting for him. You reminded him the day before too, and he still forgot.

“Hey babe,” Jude said as he dropped his bag at the front door. You quickly looked up from your book and stood up from the couch. “Hey Jude,” you whispered, smiling at him. He didn’t return the smile as he kissed your cheek and flopped down next to where you were sitting, quickly reaching for his phone in his back pocket.

“Where’s my mum?” He mumbled, scrolling through his Instagram feed. “She left to grab some things for dinner.”

The knot in your throat pulled tighter, restricting the flow of oxygen. You swallowed past it and forced your lips to curve upward. “Speaking of dinner, don’t forget our dinner tomorrow for our anniversary.”

“I won’t,” he tapped something on his screen.

“It’s our third-year anniversary,” you whispered as you bit your lip, hoping to get some emotion out of Jude.

He looked up from his phone and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know babe, I won’t forget,” he said while standing up from his seat.

You put up with dozens of missed dates, canceled trips, and broken promises over the years, which was understandable because of football; everything was always about football, and you were tired of it.

“Tell mum not to worry about dinner for me, I already ate with Vini. I’ll go take a shower and take a nap,” his lips grazed your cheek on his way past you. “Good night.” He was already gone by the time you responded. “Good night.”

Jude hated himself the next day. He had come home late due to the guys wanting to go out to a bar.

He had forgotten about the dinner you had planned and only remembered when he went inside his house and saw two dinner plates on the table, and his mom in the living room pacing around trying to get hold of someone on the phone.

That’s when Jude’s heart stopped.

Jude felt really bad these last 4 months. He didn't hear from you at all, like you never existed. There wasn't anything of you left in his house, just the faint smell on your pillow. He hated that he let you go so easily.

Every day, waking up reminded him of you and how he had to live without you. He looked different too, with dark purple bags under his eyes. His mom worried about him and you too. She hadn't heard from you since that night. She didn’t know if you were alive or dead, or if you had somewhere to go.

Jude's days were all the same, filled with regret and missing you. He wished he could go back and fix things. But time just made it worse, making the hole you left even deeper.

Playing with Real Madrid helped a bit, but he still couldn't forget you. His teammates saw how he changed, from being happy and confident to sad and quiet. They tried to cheer him up, but nothing worked.

Weeks turned into months, and Jude couldn't stop thinking about you. He knew he messed up and wanted you back more than anything.

[wonbin-truther]

i will

bf! mark x reader - 715 words

hurt/comfort , non idol au

"its always you" mark whispers, hands cupping your cheeks as if you were made of glass as tears fell from his eyes.

it seemed like everything had been going wrong recently. your car had broken down, you misplaced your house keys, you and your best friend got into an argument, and other things that had been building up as the days continued. you could feel yourself slipping into the dark hole you had once pulled yourself out of by the skin of your teeth.

everything boiled over today. first you overslept, curled up in your boyfriends arms so comfortably you missed all your alarms. you showed up to class 15 min late, causing the professor to kick you out. next, you had studied weeks for an exam worth 75% of your grade and failed it horribly. the final thing was your car breaking down for the 3rd time, leaving you to walk back to your small apartment.

you could already feel tears picking your eyes as you kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. the pounding headache making it hard to gain the strength to get up and finish the housework and classwork that had to get done. you sighed, pushing yourself up to take care of the pilled up responsibilities.

at some point into your now 4 hour studying session your boyfriend mark let himself into your place. "hey babe?" his voice rang through the silence. you didnt respond, focused on the math problem that had your head in your hands. you heard the footsteps get louder as he found his way to your room, pushing open the door. he walked over to your place at the desk and kissed the top of your head. he knew better to interrupt when you were focused.

it had now been 7 hours since you started studying. mark noted how you havent moved from that position despite him trying to get you to eat and drink water for the last 3 hours he was there. he stood up from your bed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"babe dont you think its time for a break"

"not now"

"lets just get dinner quickly"

everything was starting to bubble over and you could feel the stress getting to you. without thinking you yelled out, "jesus fucking christ mark leave me alone!" you didnt have time to realize what you said until mark let go of you, walking out the door wordlessly. you let the tears fall down your face as you buried your face in your hands. to add on top of the shitty weak, you can put losing your boyfriend.

little did you know mark hadn't gone very far, standing just outside your room so he could take a breather. he heard your muffled sobs and spun on his heel, pushing open your door and making his way to your shaking figure. he turned your chair around so that he had room to kneel in front of you, moving your hands out of your face so he could get a better look at you. you stared at him through wet eyelashes and jumped to hug him, knocking him to the floor and burying your face in his shoulder as you sobbed harder.

he held you close, rubbing circles into your back.

"my love its okay. what happened?" he spoke softly, holding you as close to himself as he could.

"i dont deserve you," he made out between your sobs.

"what do you mean?"

"you're too good for me. i dont deserve it"

his heart broke into a million pieces as he felt tears prick his eyes. he pulled you away from his shoulder, cupping your face in his hands. he left kisses all over your face, making you scrunch your nose and let out a small giggle as he continued to pepper them around your face. as he pulled away, you caught a tear slip down his cheek.

"why are you crying?" you stared at him, placing your hands over his.

"i hate when you cry. you deserve more than the universe could ever give you. it'll always be you my pretty girl," he left a gentle kiss on your lips and you happily kissed back. he pulled away and rubbed the stray tears from your cheeks.

"cuddle and watch a movie?" you asked

"whatever my girl wants to do"

a/n not proofread so idk if theres mistakes here 😭

[thelovehypothesis]

Sunsets with you.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Requested- lost my old account so this is basically me reposting my old stuff

Summary: Everyone else’s opinions on your and Harry’s relationship get in your head, but you’re it for Harry and he won’t have it any other way.

a/n’s: pretty sloppy but smwt enjoyable, please sendin request!

You’re well aware that you’re living the dream of many, being Harry’s girlfriend is something many dream of and somehow here you are, 4 years into a relationship with the man of your dreams.

Even though you were “living the dream” this said dream can with backlash, 4 years of trying to have a private (as possible with some fail) relationship, and some how media always had article to share on your relationship, fans had comments and haters hate to spread.

Truthfully it never got any easier for you to have the public eye on you, even though Harry always tried to help with sweet nothing and telling you to just full on ignore it, it was hard one click lead to another and you ended up engulfed in people opinions about you and your relationship.

Having said that, tour had been taking a toll on your relationship, you being “left” behind in London with harry signing his heart out around the world just gave your mind to much time to click and overthink, and most articles and post you read were full on rumors questioning your fidelity and his, and well you two trusted each other and had been through so many scandals that you knew better that to even bat a thought a those articles. It was rather the article criticizing you: your job, looks, intentions, family; that’s were you’d overthink your value in the relationship.

And so you started to distance yourself from him, not picking up his phone calls ever time he would call, texting him back less often and giving him shorter replies.

So when he came back for a short break, his grown worry from your uninterested self on having a proper conversation with him immediately unleashed a fight, well more so of an argument.

“We’ve been through this! You have to stop reading the comment and articles. They know one shit about us!”

“H-how can I. Im sorry but all they say is true! You’re this big pop star traveling all around the world with this huge successful career, while I’m stuck here working a 9 to 5!”

Silence

Being truthful Harry and you hardly fought but we you did it some how always lead to moments like this. You looking at each other with pleading eyes, hoping the other would just listen.

“I-I-I don’t know what you want me to say y/n”

“I don’t need you to say anything. I need you to listen, and to finally realize that I’m not-not enough for you H.

You need someone that can travel with you, and that can take on the public eye and-and that’s not me-“

“stop”

You could see the tear drops forming in Harrys eyes, even though yours are already flooded.

“Harry-“

“No. No. Yo-You don’t get to say those things. Not now not ever”

He starts stepping closer, cupping your face with his hand making you look at him.

“y/n listen please… just listen.

You are the most amazing human being I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, I know you better than anyone so I get to tell you that-that the comparison you’re making isn’t fair. You’re working on achieving your dreams, and you not that far away, and we are still so young, and somehow everyday you prove yourself to everyone around you, there is no doubt in the world that you’re the most talented person out there. I on the other had just got a head start and-and without you I-I wouldn’t be here, you’re my muse, my everything”

Sobbing, full on sobbing. How could this god of a human possibly believe in you this much knowing first hand how tough the world is.

“Harry I-I just can do it anymore-

I feel so small sometimes and I don’t want to be a burden to you”

“God y/n”

Harry lets you go.

He goes upstairs, and that’s the last indicator you needed to know that Harry can grow so much more if you just let him go, so you follow him, to say goodbye and sorry one more time.

When you got to you shared bedroom, you saw him walking out of the closet, eyes immediately meeting.

“I still hadn’t planned it out so far but I guess the time found it’s self”

Harry steps closer to you and takes your hand in his. Now in your hand, is a small velvet box.

Tears on the edge of both your eyes, but for a different reason now.

‘Just stop your crying, it’ll be alright’

“You’re it for me. And no matter how many times I have to reassure you of it, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. “

‘So please stop your crying baby it’s the sign of the times

runaway with me, to a world that only you and me’

“Harry- are you sure of what your doing” your voice trembling more that thought possible.

A scoff leaves his mouth.

“I’m sure. I want this. All of it. The big house on top of the hill, the four children running around screaming, the wedding, the dog, all of it.

So y/n y/l/n would you do me the honor of marrying me and living the rest of life together?”

He said now on one knee.

He sees right through you, he knows you could never stop living him even if you tried to, you two find home in each other.

So without an other thought, you rapidly nod your head and kneel down to be able to kiss Harry.

The kiss you shared was full of the unspoken sorry’s each of you feel needs to be said, the new promises that come with this new stage your relationship, just love, the immense love you two share.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much more.”

And there you were in your sweet tender moment, not a worry in mind, hearts beating in sync and lovesick eyes that gazed at each other.

After a few more moments Harry broke the silence.

“I love you so much that if you want me to scream it from the rooftops I will, if you need me to reassure you of your worth every day I will. I will do anything if it makes you happy.”

“I love you so much. Thank you for loving me as much”

“Forever.”

He’d already slipped the ring on your finger sealing this moment forever.

End 📌

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic May 4 - prompt 4: Marriage of Convenience [word count 759]

“Mais merde à la fin!” Sirius cursed, failing for the third time to properly knot his tie.

“Here, let me help you.”

James got up from the bed and reached for Sirius, his fingers deftly working on the tie, his own already perfect and a white rose in his lapel.

“There you go,” James forced a smile before he sighed. “I really hate this. I’m supposed to help you fix your tie the day of your wedding to the love of your life, not as you get ready to marry a complete stranger.”

“Yeah, well, blame your fellow countrymen for taking this place out of the EU,” Sirius grumbled. “It’s either this or me having to move back to France and I haven’t lived there since I was three.”

Sirius gritted his teeth. After the exit polls things had gone barreling towards the worst for him quite quickly, ending him up in the position he was in that very day, with only those two options, the second of which he refused to consider. His whole life was in London, he wasn’t about to move. So he had to marry someone with a citizenship as soon as possible before the new laws ended up with him being deported. Thankfully, he hadn’t been alone in that. The London queer community had so many people in his same situation that Lily and her girlfriend Pandora had immediately sprung into action, changing the goal of their charity into something that these days resembled a matchmaking scheme. At first they had had the time to set up meetings between people, but as time ran out and laws were made and protests ignored it had all turned into a text with a picture, a name and date, time and location of the wedding. Since he knew her well, Sirius had been privileged enough to get a call from Lily after she had sent him a picture of a guy in a brown velvet jacket, a book in his hands.

“He’s a good friend of mine, Sirius, and he’s truly a wonderful person. He’s very active in the community and teaches at UCL, I’m sure you two will get along.”

He had thanked her but shrugged it all off. It wasn’t as if they needed to like each other to sign a piece of paper. This Remus Lupin had volunteered to help out, they would both walk into the marriage office knowing it was just for convenience.

“It should’ve been me,” James sighed as he slipped another white rose in Sirius’s lapel. “If you have to marry someone to stay in the country it’d be better if it was your best friend.”

“You’re already doing that for Regulus, James.”

“That’s different, Regulus is my boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and he would murder me if I tried to marry you before he could,” Sirius laughed, then he patted James’s arm. “Let’s go, it would be rude to keep my future husband waiting.”

The ride to the registry office was silent, and when they emerged on the steps of the building Sirius immediately scanned the crowd, looking for the man in the picture.

“That must be him,” James said behind him. “By the main door, talking with Lily.”

Sirius looked up and blinked a couple of times. Remus Lupin was very tall, dressed in a navy blue suit, a white rose in his lapel too and a cigarette in hand.

“God Prongs, he’s hot,” he whispered.

“He really is,” James chuckled. “Come on, let’s go to them.”

They walked up the steps and Sirius had the time to detail Remus’s soft-looking hair, his long fingers and the way his white shirt hugged his torso. He almost didn’t greet Lily when they stopped in front of them.

“Your picture really didn’t do you justice,” Remus smiled at him. “And it was one of the hottest pictures I’ve ever seen all the same.”

Sirius felt himself blush as he shook his hand.

“So you’re doing this only because you find me handsome?” he chose to say.

“Anything to send a big fuck you to this government,” Remus shrugged.

“A real Englishman in shining armour then.”

“Fuck that, I’m Welsh.”

Remus put his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and extended his hand.

“Shall we go pledge our love until death do us part then?”

As Sirius walked into the registry, his fingers intertwined with a stranger’s and his heart pounding he decided he would wait until they had both said yes and then he would ask his husband out on a first date.

[marieracingteam]

Till then I will forever miss you – sv5

Sebastian Vettel x reader

word count: 1588

summary: In which Sebastian Vettel knew he couldn’t be friends with his ex-partner until he got his priorities straight.

The news about Sebastian Vettel’s retirement was out and everywhere. His video has already been shared more than a million times in the few days it has been out. So he guessed anyone with a minor interest in the sport knew who he was and what the future looked like to him now.

Or at least what they imagine his future would look like.

The reality is that not even Sebastian knew what life had in store for him.

He was a divorced thirty-something, with three daughters who lived away from him most of the year and an apartment that made him feel like a caged animal. He had 4 world championships and a full passport, but he also had 35 years behind him in which he felt that he had achieved nothing in his personal life.

He could try and blame his fast-paced professional life for his half-hearted personal life, but he couldn't deny that he was mostly to blame for his failed marriage to a wonderful woman, his poor parenting of wonderful daughters who adored him, and his too-modern home in a city he hated.

Since his divorce, he had dedicated all his energy to racing and fast cars, but he quickly discovered that his heart wasn't in it either. So he obviously knew that he should retire and leave that seat free for someone whose heart was at the wheel.

The worst thing was that Sebastian knew where his heart was, he just didn't know how to get to it. It just had been lost since 2015.

Without it, he had been floundering ever since. He had moved, he had pursued a different lifestyle, he had gotten married, he had even changed teams trying to find it, but he always knocked on the wrong doors only. The truth was that the closest he had been to happiness had been when his daughters were born, but by then he was no longer the man he wanted his daughters to learn from.

But now, he thought. Now he was free of the chains to which he had bound himself. Now he was finally starting to realize his mistakes and taking the right steps to correct them. Now he was ready to be the man he wanted to be, for himself and, most importantly, for his daughters.

After the last race of the season, Sebastian took the first flight to his native Germany and completely left behind his past life and the mistakes he had carried in it.

He bought a house in the country as he had always dreamed of and painted rooms with children's motifs for small beds and toys. He adopted a dog as his psychologist had recommended. And he dusted off the old cell phone that he always carried with him.

It was a long shot and he knew it, but it was the only thing he could think of to find peace and happiness.

In those long eight years, there was a good chance that she had changed her number or blocked him. Maybe she too had gotten married and had a life away from him, probably better than the one he could offer her.

Maybe she had forgotten him. Maybe he should have forgotten her.

But there was no chance, however remote, that he could live in a world in which she did not occupy his thoughts at all hours. He'd been a stupid kid when he'd let her get away thinking he could do it.

He had promised her father that he would do right by her and that is what he had tried to do all his life since he met her in school. His problem had been thinking that he was doing it when he let her go so that she could find happiness away from his chaotic life when she wanted to start a family and he could only think about lifting the championship cup with the red team.

He had been a fool thinking a trophy could give him more than a life with her and even more so for believing that she could be happier away from him.

And all for what? To end up forming a family far from hers? To have his heart searching for something that he knew he would only find with her? He was a fool and he had paid for it by being miserable for the next few years, thinking that his repentance was not enough to deserve her back.

Now, something about him had changed, although he wasn't sure what at the moment. He knew now. It had been the robbery he suffered during one of the Grand Prix he raced in which he lost the photo he kept of her in her wallet. He had hundreds more hidden in his house, but that one was special. That had been a gift from her after graduating from school, a photo that her parents had taken of them to remember their last day as classmates, and that she had wanted him to have to remember her if they were not classmates at high school.

Losing that photo had been the last blow he needed to get her life back in order. When he retrieved the empty wallet he could only kneel on the ground and cry for the life he had lost. And when he found it after hours looking for it in all the garbage containers in the city he knew to do something, even if it was for nothing.

Less than a year later he was a different man. What remained to be known is whether she was also a different woman. And what that meant to them.

After breaking up their relationship, they both accepted that they couldn’t be friends. Not when they knew what it felt like to be more. Not when they had never been friends.

Since they were six years old they had been best friends, lovers, confidants, each other's other half... but never friends. Now they were nothing, not even acquaintances who follow each other’s lives on social media. Despite having let her be free to find happiness elsewhere, Sebastian knew that he couldn't bear to see her happy away from him.

He thought he was sacrificing himself for her when in reality he had just condemned them both.

However, now he wanted to change it and his only asset was that old phone that he had kept as his most precious possession.

The only number still saved there was the one he used to call at all hours and that he still had memorized.

By the fourth ring, Sebastian was convinced he had lost his last hope. But she had always told him that a fifth championship awaited her. And there was no better victory in his eyes than that fifth tone that she cut to make way for the voice that always accompanied him.

“Hello?” she whispered in German.

“Hello” he whispered back and he felt like coming finally home “I didn't know if you had changed your phone number”

“I did” she confessed “but I kept the phone in case you ever called”.

Sebastian completely forgot the paper he held tremblingly in his hand with everything he wanted to say written down when he heard her.

“You did?” he dared to ask.

“Of course,” she said “who could I not?”

“I didn’t hope you would wait” It was difficult to hear her with her racing heartbeat in his ears, but Sebastian did his best to memorize every one of her words.

“I have always waited for your love, Sebastian”

At that he couldn’t hold any longer the tears that begged to break free from his eyes. A sob left his mouth. What had he condemned them to when he chose for her?

“Everything's fine. We have a lot to tell each other, it's fine. It was difficult for me, but I understood why you did it. It wasn't our time, we didn't know how to align our dreams. But I felt your love in your sacrifice. Everything is alright.”

Sebastian could only nod even if he knew she couldn't see him. Words could not come out of his mouth with his body paralyzed in the only chair he had for now in his new living room. That photo that she almost lost on her knee staring at him.

“I’m back” he gathered the strength to say.

“I know” he answered.

“I came back for you” was his time to confess.

She laughed timidly at that and more tears escaped his eyes. “I know”.

“Can I see you?” he begged.

There was a lot he hadn't asked. He didn't know anything about what his life had been like in those eight years, so he didn't even know if he could ask that question. But he had to do it now that he had worked up the courage to do it.

“Sebastian... I also tried to look for you elsewhere” she whispered again, probably afraid of what those words could mean for both of them.

“I don’t care, liebe. There's nothing you can say that will make me love you less”.

“I have my two boys with me till next month” she said.

“I have my daughters with me next week for a month too”.

She laughed again and he knew she also felt it. He knew that she felt that everything was fine now, that everything was finally falling into place.

They will be fine.

[thewertsearch]

GC: 1T F1NDS W4YS TO 4NN1H1L4T3 TH3 P4THS WH1CH DO NOT CONTR1BUT3 CONSTRUCT1V3LY TO 1TS OWN PROP4G4T1ON

I think this is partially true, but it can't be entirely true.

If all timelines that don't propagate reality were annihilated, then failed sessions would be completely impossible. The kids' unwinnable session would have started out as a doomed timeline.

Well... I suppose reality could occasionally permit a failed session, if that session's failure contributed to universal propagation in some other way. I've talked before about how this might actually be what's happening - how Sburb might be maneuvering these kids into a position where they can stop Lord English from destroying the universes it's trying to create.

Still, situations like this would presumably be very rare. The vast majority of sessions would contribute to propagation by directly creating a universe, so if Terezi's hypothesis was true, the vast majority of sessions should be successful.

Karkat certainly seems to think that plenty of sessions end in failure - but where's he getting his information? This might just be another case of his worldview bleeding into his understanding of the game.

For now, the average win rate of a Sburb session remains a mystery. Hopefully it won't remain one forever.

GC: 4ND 1T 1S 3QU4LLY M3RC1L3SS TO THOS3 WHO 1NH4B1T TH3M, 4ND 1N P4RT1CUL4R, THOS3 WHO C4US3 TH3M

And this is even more dubious.

Like, Sburb gave them these powers. Dave has his time machines because of Sburb. Why is he getting punished for using them as intended? If the game really abhors doomed timelines, why is it giving portable timeline-doomers to its players?

I suppose it's possible that Paradox Space is actually being managed by some force external to Sburb, so it's not actually Sburb that hates doomed timelines, but reality itself. But that just raises further questions, such as: why do universes spawn from a game that breaks the laws of the universe?

On the other hand, I'm pretty sure Terezi's just guessing, here...

GC: 1T 4PP34RS TO H4V3 4 S3NS3 OF JUST1C3, DONT YOU TH1NK?

...and they've very Terezi-flavored guesses, too.

She's been primed her whole life to think about everything in terms of justice and punishment, so she's biased towards doing so, even when it doesn't quite fit.

TG: i dunno none of this is making for a very persuasive argument that i should kill doomed me GC: BUT H3 1S GO1NG TO D13 4NYW4Y! GC: WHY NOT JUST B3 TH3 ON3 TO PUT H1M DOWN? GC: 4T TH3 V3RY L34ST, YOU COULD M4K3 SUR3 1T 1S 4 PL34S4NT D3M1S3 1NST34D OF SOM3TH1NG N4ST13R >:]

Oh, she's having fun with this, isn't she?

Like Dave said, Terezi's already seen the future, so she knows what he's going to choose. To her, his final choice doesn't really matter - the fun lies in watching him squirm.

TG: this shit youre doing now TG: this is the morbid shit i was talking about TG: its not anywhere near as endearing as you probably think […] TG: this whole thing was a ruse TG: and not even the funny kind that qualify as distactions TG: i think you got my whole timeline there in front of you and you know damn well i have no intention of killing this guy ever

Dave likes Terezi, but he's clearly getting sick of being jerked around here. He wants to know if there's a point to this - and I think he's going to be disappointed with the answer.

[katiexpunk]

28 Floors | Joel Miller x f!reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader Rating: 18+ minors DNI Word count: 2.1K series summary: You're a good girl. A senator's daughter who is always there to show your support to your father. What he doesn't know is that his best friend, Joel Miller, is practically the only real reason you show up to events to support him. series warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK/AU] We'll call him dad's best friend Joel from his time in the Army, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/47), alcohol, sexual tension, slow burn...and eventually smut, like shitttt that's smut. There are also references to skin blushing; trying my best to be an inclusive writer but this was my first fic and it’s too much for me to edit right now. However, most of my fics are tagged if there is no physical description of reader and/or references to skin color (e.g. blushing). chapter summary: you and Joel make the most of your night out supporting your father, only for it to end up in a steamy elevator scenario. Part 1 - you're already here Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 ?? Read on AO3 chapter warnings: not much yet, but just...hold tight. This shit is going to get filthy. Sorry, not sorry. A/N: Literally my first fic EVER...very nervous to post this. Had a blast writing it, but please be kind. Please consider leaving a comment, reblogging or throwing a like on this if you enjoy it. Will post part II if there is enough interest. :) P.S. DMV = Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Area. I lived there for almost a decade. I know the St. Regis doesn't have 28 floors....just, endear me, k?

Fuck these things you mumble to yourself as you look in the mirror applying a final swipe of highlighter to your cheeks and collarbone. 

It’s not that you hate dressing up. 

You take a final look in the mirror. Your silk black dress, with a tasteful low back and modest high neck, clings to your body. Your soft curls are bouncy and full; your cheeks rosy. 

That part you didn’t mind so much.

It was the mind numbing conversation that you dreaded. 

The fakeness of it all.

A room full of people dying to flaunt their success, money, and power. 

You had grown use to it over the years.

After all, you were the daughter of a senator. 

You were nearly 30, but you felt it important to continue to show support for your father at events like this. 

Plus, a little free booze and food doesn’t hurt, either. 

You slip on your heels, grab your wristlet, and drape light coat over your shoulders. 

“Bye, Theo! Don’t cause too much trouble while mom’s gone, k?” You coo as you pet your kitty under the chin in farewell and you walk out the door. 

It was a beautiful Fall night in the DMV. 

A rare night where the humidity didn’t feel suffocating. The air of the night around you was coated with a feeling that anything could happen. 

The thought made you smile. 

You slip into the back of the black suburban waiting for you outside your apartment. 

"Hi, Tommy. Thanks for driving!"

Alone in the back of the car, you text your parents that you’re on the way.

As you hit send, another text comes through. 

Joel Miller: Are you coming tonight or am I drinkin’ alone? 

You grin at the thought of him asking if you’re coming tonight. 

You type out a quick response, “Yep! see you soon!x” and hit send. 

You fail to let yourself acknowledge that it wasn’t really the dressing up, free booze, or food that kept you coming back to these events. 

Or even supporting your dad. 

It was Joel. 

Your dads best friend. 

** 

The car rolled to a stop in front of the St. Regis. 

You step out, thanking Tommy for the ride as usual on your way out of the back seat. 

He nods, “My pleasure - have fun! Tell my brother I say hi.” 

"Will do!"

This 'otta be fun, you think to yourself. 

** 

The event was what you’d expect it to be. 

You dripped of poise and elegance as you strolled through the room of suits, bad cologne, passed champagne, and hors d'oeuvres.

You make casual conversation with the guests around you, ensuring your dad and his initiatives shine. 

Joel did the same. 

He wasn’t much for events like this, but he knew how to suck it up and kiss ass when he had to. 

While your dad decided to take the political route, Joel went on to become the CEO of one of the most successful construction companies on the Eastern Seaboard. 

He wasn’t in politics, but you had to give it to the man. He knew how to work a crowd.

It’s a skill he picked up in the Army while serving with your dad. 

He knew how people worked. Knew what to say, and when to say it.

It came naturally to him.

He knew when to impress or stay quiet, when to boast, and when to dominate in the conversation.

Maybe it was his humble upbringing in Texas, or his years of life experience on you, but whatever he was doing, you had to admit, it worked. 

**

It didn’t take long before you found Joel giving you his signature nod across the room.

The let’s ditch these dinosaurs and go get a drink nod that he gave you at every event prior. 

It was a sure thing. 

Something you could always count on. 

“Would you excuse me, Congresswoman Lee?” You say as you graciously excuse yourself from conversation, and you make your way down to the hotel bar. 

Ugh...why are you nervous?

** 

Joel was already at the bar. 

His broad shoulders stretched the back of his green corduroy suit, salt and pepper curls combed back, and his legs spread wide over the stool beneath him. 

Damn, he looks good. 

Your stomach does a little backflip. 

It wasn’t that you minded him in his usual attire of dark jeans, a white v-neck tee and a flannel, but seeing him like this was always a sight to behold. 

His brown eyes meet yours as you glide closer to the bar, you eventually find yourself seated at the empty stool next to him.

A whiskey on ice was already waiting for you, two Luxardo maraschino cherries on top. 

He knows what you like. 

You can’t help but swallow the feeling that he might be good at knowing what you like in other ways, too.  **

Before you know it, it’s nearing midnight.

“It’s getting late, I should probably head out,” you say as you bring the edge of the glass to your lips, feeling the cool trickle of the last sip of now-diluted whiskey roll down your throat. 

The cup hits the sticky wooden surface in front of you. You push it forward, nodding to the bartender in thanks. 

You swivel on your stool, both legs turned to the side, directly facing him now. You rise from the seat onto your heels, your body coming closer to him for a split second as you do. 

He can’t help but notice the hitch of your dress as you stand. His posture straightens as he watches the rise and fall of your chest, now so perfectly in his line of sight. 

You look down and notice you’re standing in the empty space between his legs, his thick thighs to your right and left. 

Nothing about this man is small, you muse to yourself.

Your hand meets his shoulder. He stiffens at the touch, the hairs on his arm rise to attention and his grip on his glass tightens.

He gazes up to look at your face, eyes pausing on your lips. 

You notice. 

Maybe it’s the liquor, or the slight reaction to your touch that gives you the confidence you need, but you decide to be bold. 

You lean forward, meeting his ear. Your hot breath escapes as you whisper “Thanks for the company, Mr. Miller.”  

You plant a soft kiss on his cheek as your hand grazes down his shoulder over his firm bicep. 

Fuck, he’s strong. Your mind wanders to other parts of him that might be just as big, just as strong. 

The thought consumes you. 

You notice a warmth pooling in your belly as your lips leave his cheek and your palm leaves his arm. 

You step out of the comfort of the space between his legs, both hands falling to smooth out your dress. 

You didn’t even notice that his right hand had somehow made it to the outside of your own thigh while standing there. 

“Anytime, Darlin,” he says with a wink.

His southern charm unmoors you. 

You’re starting to realize that maybe it always has. 

You walk away, hips swaying, and his gaze goes dark as he watches as you leave. 

Joel Miller was a smart man. 

He knows you are off limits. 

If he were smart, he'd leave you alone.

As he went to finish his own drink, the glint of something left on the bartop caught the corner of his eye. 

** 

You’re steps away from him now, feeling light headed and spun up at your interaction. 

You could still go back, you tell yourself. 

Before you know it, you’ve made it to the elevator. The arrow glows golden with a quick press and you stand there waiting.

You should go back, you internally reason with yourself again. You’re an adult. He’s an adult. So what if he’s your dads best friend? 

Hell, just go back you silently scream at yourself, letting out a somewhat desperate sigh as your head tilts down. 

With your gaze now down you notice your wristlet isn’t with you. 

“Shit, my purse.” 

You turn around to head back to the bar, and immediately collide with a hard surface. 

It was him. 

A hand, large and sure, meets your waist to steady you.

“Hey,” he says. 

And then it hits you, the faint smell of wood chips, cinnamon and musk.

It intoxicates you further. 

Little bumps cover your body and your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers graze the soft skin of your exposed back.

It was his turn to stir a reaction in you.

Your eyes pause at the center of his chest, and with his large hand still firm against your skin pulling you into him, you look up at him with soft eyes. 

“Oh, uh, hi. I was just…” 

Before you can continue the thought…

“Forget something?,” he asks. 

He nods to his hand holding your purse. 

“Oh…y-yeah, I was just going to go back,” you say, feeling the warmth rise up to your cheeks. 

What is it about this man that makes you so nervous? Get it together.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly as you gently tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear, in a full-on blush from his attention.

Your hand reaches out to grab it, and you notice his eyes rest like boulders on your exposed collarbones and the pulse below your jaw.

You feel as though he’s not looking at you, but through you, eyes drinking you up like a glass of cold water on a warm summer day.

The thought sends a spark to your core and you feel a familiar tug at your navel.

Shit. You want him. 

As if you didn’t already know that the second you laid eyes on him at the bar. 

As if he didn’t already know that. 

A soft bing echos through the lobby as the elevator arrives and the doors slowly open. 

People shuffle out of the small hoist.

The moment remains thick with tension despite the presence of other hotel guests walking past you both. 

You look over your shoulder at the elevator, and back at him, getting ready to say goodnight for a final time, wishing you had enough whiskey in you to give you the courage to say what you really wanted.

How does one say “hey, I know I’m your best friends daughter, but l’d really love for you to fuck me into the middle of next week,” anyways? 

It’s as if he had the same thought, but he breaks the silence. 

“Getting on?"

His hand drops from your body, leaving an invisible handprint, as he nods to the now empty elevator. 

You had intended to go back to your apartment for the night, but you found yourself nodding yes to him in return.

You straighten your posture in an attempt to collect your composure as you turn away from him to enter the lift. 

“Good. In you go, sweetheart.” 

Within a moment his touch is back on you, a large palm resting on the small of your back guiding you into the elevator. 

You pause there, side by side, waiting for other guests to walk through the threshold. 

None do.

The elevator doors close.

You let out a sigh, but feel anything but relieved.

The fact suddenly hits you that you are very alone in an elevator with the one and only Joel Miller. 

Butterflies flip in your stomach as the doors begin to close, stickiness continuing to pool in your underwear. 

Holy shit.  

“What floor?” he asks.

“Yours” You whisper, directly looking him in the eyes. 

“Please” You add for good measure, remembering him saying to you how much he likes a woman with manners at a dinner at your parent's house some months ago. 

That’s when you see it. His want. His need. 

His pupils shot open with desire. 

His cock twitches in his suit pants.

You gulp as you gaze down to watch him slightly readjust himself, eyes still on you before he reaches out to the tree of buttons by the elevator doors.

His long finger pushes the worn button.

Joel Miller has 28 floors with you.

You bet he is going to fucking use them.

Part 2

[bnha-headcanonss]

Today got so, so much weirder

Bakugo one-shot. Super light. Hopefully sweet? Idk I don’t write this type of stuff. Apologies for any typos or confusing bits. It’s 4 am. I have not slept.

Slight swearing (expected)

Word count: 1875

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I woke up, sun shining into my eyes first thing. Basically blinded as soon as I wake up, on top of that, I’m going to be late, lovely start to the day!

I get up, get dressed in my uniform, and leave for school.

“Honey what about breakfast??” Mom calls out after me.

“I’m going to be late if I stay any longer! I’ll pick something up on the way, love you!” I yelled while speeding out the door.

I hear a faint “I love you too!” As I slam the door shut and make my way down the street.

“Stop walking so fast will you?!”

Bakugo and I haven’t always been close, he’s got an explosive personality, quite the temper on him. After both of us getting into UA and finding out we were in the same class, we grew closer. Originally it was banter back and forth and absolutely kicking each others ass in matches. Basically wiping the floor with each other.

He’s got this explosion quirk which goes hand-in-hand with his personality and I have a time shift quirk. I use it a lot to dodge others attacks and find way to make their attacks blow up in their own face, in his case, literally. And he hates it.

After our back and forth harsh banter that went on for months, it turned more playful. Eventually we just became each others closest friend. And I’d hate to admit it, it’s been kind of nice. Over time I developed a small crush for him. Nothing too major. But just underneath all the anger and aggression, and ego, he’s not half bad.

“My apologies your highness.” I did a stupid little curtsy and he attempted to push me down. I grabbed onto his arm so his attempt failed. Still funny though.

“What’re you doing out here so late? Usually you’re early.” I questioned. Being late or barely on time was my thing, not so much his.

“Somebody kept me up all night.” He gave me a dirty look.

“You were the one who didn’t want to go to sleep until you got a win. You just got to get better at the game.”

“I’ll blow your fucking face up, shut your mouth.” I burst out laughing. Bakugo sucks big time at Mortal Kombat. He wasn’t much for video games in general but he saw me watching an execution clip online and got interested, typical.

We reach the school and go on with our day. We don’t talk much in class, we sat and did our work. Lunch came and we ate together.

“Hey try this.” He proceeds to dump some green sauce on my food.

“What is it?” I questioned. Bakugo loves his spicy food, pretty on brand but I can’t stand it. I do not have the tastebuds strong enough for that like he does.

“It’s nothing too bad, it’s really good, I made it myself. Try it.” He demanded.

“If I burn myself, it’s on you.”

“Nah you’ll be fine. Go on.” He sits back. I already know how this is going to go, but he made it himself and I can’t say no to that.

As expected, it burned.

“Holy shit Bakugo, this burns so bad.” I’m up and looking for anything to drink but I finished my water a while ago and don’t have anything else. Meanwhile Bakugo is practically dying of laughter in his seat. I swear he’s got tears of joy forming and I’ve got tears related to death streaming down my face. Everything feels like it’s on fire.

“Here here, you’re causing a scene.” He hands me his water bottle and I start chugging.

“I don’t care.. if I cause anything.. that shit BURNS!” I manage between chugs of water. He breaks out into even more laughter.

He was right though, I am causing a scene. I sit back down and try to gain my composure.

“What is that stuff?”

He pulls out the unlabeled bottle and holds it up like an advertisement.

“Lord Explosion Murder hot sauce, available near you.” He’s got a giant grin on his face. You don’t see him smile much, even if it is artificial, it ties my stomach in a knot, that could also be the hot sauce.

“Oh my god you’re such a nerd.” I say with a stupid smile on my face, compensated by an eye roll.

“You find it funny so clearly you love this nerd. Wait- nevermind that sounded weird.”

“Yeah right, cool it hot shot.” I laugh and brush it off, I wouldn’t say love, but I think I definitely like that nerd? I have no idea.

He looked oddly vacant when I brushed it off though. There was no emotion, just stone faced. Completely changed the tone. Luckily the bell rang, we cleaned up and continued the rest of our school day.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Roof?” I approach his desk as the final bell for the day rings.

“Yeah let’s go.” He packs away his things and we make our way to the roof.

We’ve been coming up here a couple times a week since becoming friends, just to talk, watch the sun go down, watch a movie or something. It’s like a moment of peace for me. I think this is originally where I started developing feelings for him. It’s just us, there’s no playing an act or anything. We learned to be ourselves and I really like who he actually is.

“What’s it gonna be today?” He questions, pulling out his laptop and turning on his Apple TV application.

“Hmm. What’s on the list?”

We made a list of all the movies we think about but can’t watch at the moment.

“So far there’s 27 dresses, uh 13 going on 30, 10 things I hate about you, god what is up with all the romcoms? All girly shit.”

“You realize who you’re talking to dimwit? 10 things I hate about you.”

“Yeah yeah.” He rolls his eyes, turns on the movie and positions the laptop in front of us both. It’s a nice day. Not cold, no breeze, just nice, warm air. Quiet.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I must’ve been more tired than I thought because I felt my eyes getting heavier and I’ve had to catch myself from falling forward once or twice. The movies only about half way done.

“Fucking loser.” He says.

“What?”

“You’re falling asleep.” Pointing out the obvious.

“No I’m not, I’m watching the movie.” Uh-huh..

“Right.” He pulls me towards him until my head hits his shoulder. This is different, Bakugo grew some balls or something. I don’t remember much else from there though.

I must’ve been really exhausted.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I open my eyes to the night sky and Baby Driver playing on the laptop. I barely made it through 10 things I hate about you I guess. I’m still laying on his shoulder but I feel pressure on my head, it feels like his head. And I feel a hand on my waist. Is he asleep too?

“Hm.” I test.

“Finally, fucking nerd. You fell asleep.” He’s got that softer, sleepy voice. Maybe he was falling asleep. He lifts his head and moves his hand from my waist.

“Sorry, I guess today was not my day.” I laugh it off.

“Movie was good. Liked it. I put this on right after though and it’s almost over.”

“Baby Driver?”

“Yeah.” One of the first movies we watched up here. Only because he didn’t give me much of a choice, at all. It was good though, I liked it a lot more than I thought I would, I thought it was just a car movie at first.

“Let’s finish it then.” I offer.

“That was the plan. At least until you woke up.”

“Yeah yeah. Shut up and watch.”

“You’re one to talk.”

As the movie continued I could feel his arm snake around my waist again, right back to where it was before. We haven’t moved otherwise. I’m still really close to him, I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and it’s a lot. I can’t necessarily complain though. Realistically, who would?

The movie finished and we pack up to go home. It started getting colder as the time passed and neither of us had a jacket. The school issued skirt for my uniform was killing me at this point.

I let him rant on about the movie I picked the whole way home. It sounds like he liked it. He really liked the main character because she wasn’t like all the other main characters who are all boy crazy.

“She kind of reminds me of you.” He says. I take that as an absolute win. I love Kat so much. She’s the main reason I watched the movie in the first place.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Despite the fact that I’ve never fallen asleep on him like that before, nothing was weird. Nothing felt weird. Today was a weird day, don’t get me wrong but that was the most normal feeling part, and it was the most not-normal. I’m confusing myself.

We reach my apartment complex which is a couple streets away from his house and we make our way up the stairs.

“Again tomorrow?” He suggests. Or demands? No clue at this point.

“Tomorrow? Theres no school tomorrow?”

“You come over to my place. We’ll rewatch your movie so you can finish it this time and we can pick another one from the stupid list. Yeah?”

Me go over to his place? Today got so much weirder in just 30 seconds.

“You know, that sounds nice. See you around 1?”

“Yup. Don’t be Late.”

“I’ll try not to,” I start to walk towards my door.

“I’ll kill you if you are!” He’s still just standing there, you can practically hear his smile. You know how you sound different when your lips are upturned, yeah, that.

“You won’t do shit.” I laugh and pull out my keys.

I feel a tug on my arm and I’m met face to face with Bakugo. He grabs my face with his hands and suddenly his lips meet mine.

His hands lay either side of my jaw, thumbs on my cheek, holding my head up towards him. His lips are soft, he’s gentle. I practically melt into the kiss.

He pulls away, we lock eyes for just a couple seconds before he turns around to leave. His face was red. I feel red. I feel hot, and confused. My stomach did flips.

He did shit- not the shit I was referring to, but holy shit, he did shit. What.

“1 pm, don’t, be late,” he emphasized the don’t.

“I won’t.” I say, in utter disbelief. I see a small smile creep up on his lips before he’s out of sight.

What the fuck just happened?

Today got so, so much weirder.

[sportswriters]

they're not worth it - m. mount

pairing: mason mount x female!reader | f | established relationship | wc: 894 | warnings: none

welcome post!

you had some hope that the result of man united's match against chelsea would be positive for the reds, but the blues eventually got the better of you and the game ended 4-3. your face clearly showed your unhappiness at the defeat, but that was something you could overcome. your unhappiness was more due to the fact that mason had played against his former club and had failed to take the lead, as well as being the target of angry comments from chelsea’s fans.

he would say no, but you knew that the whole situation with his former club was still affecting him. chelsea had been his home for a long time and parting with it wasn't an easy decision, but it wasn't his fault. however, no one cared about his side of the story, painting him as an ungrateful villain who abandoned the club.

you put your coat on properly and went down the side stairs that led to the pitch. the security guards had already been instructed to let you through, so there was no one trying to stop you from entering the pitch, mistaking you for an excited fan.

with the match already over, the players were dispersed, exchanging words with each other, drinking water and commenting on the game and everything else, although you only started to look for mason among all the others, seeing red and blue dots mixed together. but it didn't take long for your eyes to find him, you sighed and cracked a smile, ready to comfort him about his defeat, however when your feet moved towards him, your smile died at the sight of enzo fernández approaching to tease his former teammate.

“this is chelsea, you coward! you're a coward!” enzo said, slapping the chelsea shield on his shirt.

you heard those words and your blood boiled. mason wouldn't join in the provocation, he always keeps as far away from trouble as possible, even on the pitch, but you didn't. you couldn't hear those words being directed at your boyfriend and choose to keep quiet, seeing that all mason did was twiddle his thumbs in enzo's direction.

“hey, asshole, how about minding your own business?” you stepped closer, both of them turning to look at you. “maybe it's more worthwhile worrying about becoming a relevant player and not a shitty midfielder.”

“y/n...” mason called out, holding your hand.

“have you become a traitor too?” enzo shot, his expression closed, looking at you in your manchester united shirt through the gap in the front of your jacket.

you moved forward a little, but mason held you back, putting his arm around your waist this time.

“the only traitor here is your club!” you snapped, almost spitting, your teeth clenched in anger.

before things get any worse, mason pulled you away from the player and you snort. enzo eventually backed away too, but your anger was still there, burning. that idiot. everyone saw that mason tried everything in his power to stay at chelsea, but his efforts were only one-sided. he had every right, like everyone else there, to look for a better opportunity that valued him.

things had been difficult since he announced his departure from chelsea and signed for another premier league club, mainly because he hadn't had a good start to the season, but it didn't matter, you were always there for him, willing to make him believe that things would be better.

so he didn't need to hear those insults from anyone. he wasn't a coward.

“y/n.”

you took a deep breath and turned to mason. he had a soft expression on his face and you didn't know how he managed to deal with all those nasty comments without saying anything and still maintain an expression as calm as that.

“i'm sorry, i know i shouldn't have gotten carried away...” you started to say, but he interrupted you, keeping both hands on your waist.

“i love you,” he said.

your shoulders relaxed instantly and your heart soared at his genuine smile. there was no way to hate that man. why did people do that?

“thank you for standing up for me, not just today, but always,” he continued. “still, i'll keep telling you, darling, they're not worth it.”

you huffed, putting your hands on his shoulders.

“i know,” you agreed. “but i hate to see you being the target of these comments, mase. chelsea fans are so ungrateful.”

“the only comments i mind hearing are yours,” he added.

you raised one of your hands and caressed his cheek, looking him in the eye.

“so i hope you believe me when i say that you're not and never have been a coward. you're incredible and very good at what you do,” you said, sincerely.

he widened his smile and lightly pinched the skin around your waist.

“and...?” he encouraged and you knew very well what he was waiting for.

you rolled your eyes, but your smile widened too.

“and i love you.”

satisfied, he kissed you softly and you forgot that a few seconds ago you were angry, because now all you felt was your heart exploding, as the silent promise of looking after each other surrounded you. you were the only thing that mattered to him. the rest would always be the rest. and that included chelsea and their childish fans.

[filmmarvel]

Sex Education Season 4 Review

Unfortunately it wasn’t as good as the others. It’s less that it was bad or that I didn’t enjoy it, and more that it sort of failed in its duties as a finale. I really liked the finale, it wasn’t until I finished it that I was left like… that’s it?

Starting with the Pros: I’m glad they had the sense to end it here. This season has gotten hated on pretty hard so far, which makes sense, but isn’t quite deserved. Even though it wasn’t as good as it COULD’VE been, it was still good! In particular, Aimee, Eric, and Adam had wonderful and satisfying arcs which I found quite compelling and felt like a lovely send off to each of their characters. Maeve’s ending, despite being a point of controversy, was fitting. She had a difficult but moving season, and her destiny was always to be a writer. As disappointing as it is that she doesn’t end up with Otis, I thought the writers justified it quite well. It would’ve simply felt wrong for her to stay back in Moordale just for Otis. She was always going to get out.

This brings me to the Cons. I have to say, my biggest disappointment with this season has to be Otis himself. Being the lead character, I really wish they would’ve chosen a more personal storyline with more depth to it to send off his character. Instead, they had him acting like a child the whole season. He’s the primary character and yet he has the least interesting, least sympathetic, least moving storyline. It was all about his relationships with Maeve, Ruby, and Eric, and his competition with O. Nothing really about him. They didn’t give enough closure as to how his future looks- he’s no longer the school sex therapist, which is disappointing. He agreed to think about working with O, but that’s all, and that isn’t the most satisfying conclusion. They left him in a very nondescript place. Additionally, many former cast members weren’t in this season. As a result, I felt that there were a number of missed opportunities. My other big complaint is, predictably, the change in setting and new cast of characters. I really didn’t love the new school. I don’t think I need to elaborate on that too much, it was just kind of over the top in a way that felt misplaced and unrealistic. As for the new characters, most of them weren’t bad, they were just unnecessary. The one character I did have an issue with was O, who was a rather grating presence. Which I don’t think was something all that good for a finale. I didn’t find her character at all interesting or sympathetic. She was really annoying, and didn’t grow on me at all over the course of the season.

To sum things up, I wish the writers had just focused on the characters they had already. The new characters weren’t as interesting (naturally), and I thought the season could’ve benefitted from more of a personal journey for the characters we already know and love- such as Otis, Jackson, Ruby, or Viv. When a show ends, I always really like to have some closure on where each of the characters are headed in the future, such as new passions, future relationships, careers, etc. While again, they did a lovely job with this with a few characters, there were a lot of characters who just left me unsatisfied (namely the aforementioned 4). I enjoyed the ending, but it left me feeling like a lot of precious time was wasted with new characters and misplaced storylines. It didn’t feel as though the writers quite understood how important this season was, and failed to treat certain characters with the care they deserved.

[macbooth]

full of childish whimsy in a hostile fashion tonight so here’s every shakespeare clown i can think of and whether or not i think i’d beat them in a fight

(i do not mean fools i mean clowns. they do not need to be the secret genius of the play. if they are stupid in every way shape or form i am including them here)

Puck (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) No chance. Bro’s got that magic and ALSO has a big strong scary fairy king as his bear, like, do not separate them. If I even tried throwing hands at this cunt I’d get torn to shreds and used as glitter dude, I’d be over. 0/10

Nick Bottom (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) I could but I’d feel bad. I also think he’d put up a really solid fight. Like this is out of donkey form, bro was a physical worker. Like I reckon I could win a fight with some of the tradies I’ve seen but I don’t think it’d be easy. Also he’s just really dumb so I would feel a little bad. Donkey form though, I’m running away. Scary as shit. I am afraid of horses though. 6.5/10

Touchstone (As You Like It) Absolutely I could beat the shit out of this man. I hate him so much. Full of hostility towards this fucker. His clothes aren’t even subtle I could find this bitch in the forest no time and hunt him down and rip him to shreds, fuckin court jester doesn’t even have the roughness of the country on his side. 9/10 (-1 point cause he definitely fights dirty but I just hate him so much I’d win)

Jaques (As You Like It) First off he’s absolutely a clown. Second off I’ve played him before so my word is gospel. Third off bro has no fucking chance against me. He’s a podcast bro who thinks I don’t know that Tame Impala is one dude. I’d ask him why we can’t print more money and he would explode instantly and it would be the funniest thing he did with his life. 10/10

Audrey & Corin (As You Like It) I’m lumping these two together cause in the show I did they were one character (and I also played them). I wouldn’t even want to fight these two. And even if I wanted to Audrey would absolutely be able to beat the shit out of me and I would thank her. Our setting was in semi-modern country Australia, that girl would have a shotgun. 2/10

Autolycus (Winter’s Tale) Just like Jaques to me. He might be a little bit harder because he’d change costume and I’d get confused because I have no object permanence but other than that what has he got. Bitterness? Resentment? Bitch so did I when I was 15 grow up experience love. 8/10

Falstaff (Henry IV parts 1 & 2, Merry Wives of Windsor) I don’t actually know about this one but he is very punchable. I feel like he’d let me punch him and I think one punch would be enough for me. I think that would satisfy my urge to punch him. He may be a knight but let’s be honest he’s shit at it so I stand by this. 4/10 (just cause I don’t really give a shit)

The Dromios (Comedy of Errors) I absolutely could beat them in a fight but I would feel So Bad. You see how they’re literally already treated in the play, I wanna give them a break. That being said they’re both kinda dicks but they’re going through it already so I’d wanna give them a breather. I would win though, even if they both were attacking at once. 7/10

Launcelot Gobbo (Merchant of Venice) He’s such a prick but I would be laughing too hard at his name to fight him. Bro’s name is Gobbo. Bro’s name is basically Gobby. Imagine being named Blowjob. I would lose my mind. I would laugh so so hard I would collapse. My heart would fail. Biggest L name out there bro. Launcelot Gobbo oh my god. 3/10

Launce (Two Gentlemen of Verona)  Nah man he has an attack dog. I don’t care what breed of dog Crab is in a production I fully believe he would kill for Launce, that’s just their dynamic. I understand them better than anyone else (I have a dog). Also he’s already working for Proteus, is that not punishment enough? 4/10

Speed (Two Gentlemen of Verona) I mean I definitely could fight him. I don’t imagine he’s got much fighting experience. But once again, he has to deal with Valentine which does feel like it would be cruel to inflict more onto him. Like Valentine’s not as bad as Proteus but fuck is he stupid. Also if I accidentally flubbed a punch Speed could absolutely tear me a new asshole with his words and I would sob and cry and literally never recover. 4/10

The Porter (Macbeth) Fuck no. Bro definitely has a knife on him at all times. I can’t explain why I think this I just do. He works night shift, he definitely doesn’t get paid enough for his dog shit job, he would absolutely try to stab me just to spice up his evening without me starting a fight. 1/10

Trinculo (Tempest) Yes. Sorry, you’re Russell Brand? L. I could kick your ass. And he’s like drunk for half the show, and almost fucked a fish. I doubt his judgement is good enough to say the alphabet backwards let alone dodge a punch. He couldn’t even get Caliban to kick my ass (who definitely could by the way) cause Caliban fucking hates him. Bro, failwife to Stephano should pay more. But it doesn’t. 8.5/10

Dogberry (Much Ado About Nothing) Without Verges? Yes. With Verges? No way. Those two are a power couple in the dumbest possible way. He would absolutely try to get me arrested though but I simply would not go to prison. What’s he gonna do? Send me to prison? I’m already not going. 7/10

Mercutio (Romeo and Juliet) No chance. Unless Romeo fucked up so bad like he did in the actual play, I would have no chance against this dude. I wouldn’t even want to even if I could. I’m a Benvolio stan first and foremost and a person second you think I’d wanna fight his bestie? Only exception is if it was an actual fight club and not just a pure fight out of hatred. I feel like Mercutio could give Brad Pitt Fight Club Realness, outfits included.  I would still lose though. 2.5/10

Don Adriano De Armado (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I reckon I could wreck this dude’s shit. You know that gif where the fuckin dude is doing all these cool sword moves and then he just gets shot? You know the one. I forgot where it’s from but you know the one. That would be this fight. Armado would bust out his flair, his razzle dazzle, his pizzaz, and I would just deck him I think. That’s the power you need in this world, I think. Power of fist to face. Peace and love. <3 8/10

Costard (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I do not think Costard would realise he was being fought even as he was actively getting hit in the face. I know how to say honorificabilitudinitatibus, he doesn’t even have that against me. Bro couldn’t even confuse me with that, I learnt that, like an adult. Anyway yeah I’d kick his ass. 9/10

Holofernes & Sir Nathaniel (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This is the same man to me. I would destroy them both. Fuckin nerds. Flowery ass language nerds. I support gay rights and gay wrongs but the only reason I couldn’t fight those two gay muppets who heckle is cause they’re too far away (in a theatre booth), these two gay muppets who heckle are right in front of me. I’d kick their tweed cladded asses. 10/10

Jaquenetta (Love’s Labour’s Lost) She is just like Audrey to me. I could never bring myself to hurt her. Also she’s pregnant and I feel like it’s fucked up to hit a pregnant woman just for fun. Also she could absolutely wreck my shit. Please wreck my shit Jaquenetta. 0.5/10

Moth (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This little fucker should be an INSTANT knock out but I just know this fucker bites. He’s a shit talking 8 year old? Oh he plays wolves on the playground, I just know it. He plays wolves and he’s definitely been suspended for it, I just know it in my heart. Sure, I could kick him, but he would grab hold of my foot and try to rip it off. We would shake hands and agree to part ways, having met our match. He, who plays wolves, and me, who played fairies, leave the fight with our heads high and respect in our hearts. I am kidding of course but I do think we would tie. 5/10

Lear’s Fool (King Lear) There’s already so much fighting going on, I don’t even think they’d notice if I just started kicking this dude. Not only could I fight him and win, I think I’d get away with it too. I’d win not only physically but socially too. What’s he gonna do? Tell his boss? Bro he’s preoccupied with his whole kingdom crumbling, grow up. 9/10

Lavatch (All’s Well That Ends Well) This is more meta but my hatred of this play would fuel me here. I would fight literally anyone in this play if given the chance, not a joke. I would get in the ring with literally anyone from this play, but honestly, out of them all I weirdly respect Lavatch the most, maybe because he at least knows that he’s a cunt, unlike literally everyone else who Just Suck. I do think he’s probably scrappy though, so I wouldn’t leave unscathed. I also think if he got the upper hand he would be so so awful about it, so I’d really have to fight. 6/10

Sir Toby Belch & Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Twelfth Night)  Andrew is canonically bad at fighting, and honestly I do not believe Toby would be any better. Love both of these guys but if I had to fight them both at once I think I would be able to just move out of the way and they’d bonk each other on the head like a cartoon. They’re just silly guys. 9/10

Maria (Twelfth Night) Every woman clown could beat my ass. Audrey, Jaquenetta, Maria, they are all so special to me and would all also fucking destroy me. Maria especially cause I just know she is full of hate. You don’t hatch a plan like the Malvolio plan unless there’s something deeply worrying about you. She’s a Scorpio to me. <3 I do love her, she’d demolish me. 0/10

Feste (Twelfth Night) Would actually kill me. -5/10

I know I’ve definitely missed some but uhhh don’t expect me to remember every clown even if I’m neurodivergent about these plays please. <3