#now lets pray to god i did the story justice hope you like

[timetravellingkitty]

moodboard for melting, you're a day daydream, a short story by @papenathys because I just couldn't resist it's such a beautiful story go read it!!!

[xmorguekittyx]

Ever Locked

Part 1: New Beginnings?

pairing: Older!Leon x Ex!Coroner’s Assistant Reader

warnings: nsfw, light smut

extra: this story takes place 7 years later, Leon being taken into the government is still a cannon event, same with RE2 being a cannon event. i hope you guys like this! POV has changed, chapters will flip flop from your pov to Leon’s chapter by chapter and these parts will be longer. Next chapter will be Leon’s pov.

Soft wind blew against the cracked window, locked in place with a bolt. Rain pelted the chipped glass, sliding down to draw clear designs as the morning sun started to peek out from behind the grey clouds. Birds singing happily about the new day, the limitless opportunities that the day could bring. Shadows of the birds reflecting over the glass pane, the shadow an unfamiliar view. My eyes aren't use to seeing the sun, not since settling in Seattle, Washington.

Finally, I decided to move my limbs, the numbness taking over as the muscles ached and stretched. Purple sheets wrapped around my ankles, keeping me from getting up as quickly as I wanted to. Those damned dreams, I couldn't get away from him even in my slumber. His face marred into the back of my eyelids, he haunted my every waking and sleeping moment. The bolt that was beat into the window sill, causing the window to never be open, it was because of him. The fear he would slip in, much like he had done all those years ago. The three locks on the front door another reminder that, even if he was, god knows where, I was unsafe.

  A reflection that didn't register in my mind, who was this? Me? Surely not, my eyes didn't have that dark of circles under them... did they? The figure in the mirror moving close as I feel the counter press into my thighs. "Fuck.", I didn't even recognize the person i became once the police men took me from Leon's home. They were shouting something about... a disease, something wrong with people in the city. Their hands gripping at my arms as they pulled me from the shit hole. People, their eyes yellow and skin, a sickly white. My stomach rolled, a groan of nausea coming from my lips. Those people, I watched as they bit into the man behind me, his skin held by tendons and muscle, before that too was ripped away from him.

  A cough of acid, the burning of my throat brought me back to that damned look. It's eyes squinting, searching for some recognition in the mirror. "Fuck off.", a scoff fell from my lips, turning from the eyes that mimicked mine. The knob turned on the sink, water dripping adding to the sounds around, thunder rumbling over the apartment. "You talking to yourself?", a smug voice called, my fingers too busy rubbing the freezing water over the dark circles under my eyes, praying that the water would wash away some of the unfamiliarity. "Shut up, Ryan.", I was not in the mood to deal with the man, his pout the first thing my eyes picked up on as I looked back in the mirror. "You dreamt of him again, didn't you?", he asked, his voice was so concerned, it made me feel worse. "Yeah...", a bitter laugh left my lips, the real monster in my story was him.

  I felt his fingers trace over the scar on my temple, the one, he, had left behind. "You know you're safe now... right? I won't let anything happen to you.", as much as i wanted to believe his words, to trust my boyfriend of 3 years... something in my chest warned me of a possibility. He was a government agent, at least that was the last i heard of Leon S. Kennedy; he'd saved some girl from RPD that night. He was deemed a hero, despite the sins that he had committed, a justice for a death never gained. No body, no crime... that's what the government worker had told her. I'd tried to tell them everything, that I was kidnapped, that Leon had killed Mrs. Jones. They didn't care, there was no proof as by the time I had gotten the chance to speak to anyone, Raccoon City was already bombed to hell and back.

  "I know.", the truth was that I wasn't safe, I never was going to be unless I was nailed in that coffin, the only place he couldn't find me. Then again, I figured even if I had died that day, that Leon would somehow find my corpse just to add insult to injury. The stupid rookie-  I wished I'd never laid eyes on those blue orbs, that the summer blue skies didn't remind me of him, that I didn't fear being home alone... that I didn't think every blonde in a police uniform was him, that I didn't see him in people, I passed on the street. "I know.", my hand came up to hold onto his, my fingers around his wrist. "You'll protect me...", my tone was no more than a whisper, eyes closing, melting into the back of his fingers. As soon as my eyes closed, that face popped back up, the look he gave me as i felt my vision blacken. It's been 7 years, it's time to move on. Ryan deserved a girlfriend who didn't jump in fear every five seconds, or call him crying when she saw a blonde officer.

  "I love you, stop thinking about it. You're making it worse on yourself.", he cupped his hand around my cheek, finger-pads rough from his job as a crime scene investigator. "You're safe with me, he's still with the government agency and you're here... in your apartment with your loving boyfriend.", a deep chuckle left his lips. "A loving boyfriend who wants nothing more than to make his girlfriend relax.", his fingers toyed with my pajama pants string, twisting it between his fingers. "Will you let me do that, pretty girl?", his lips pressed into the crook of my neck. My nails dig slightly into his biceps, holding onto him as his tongue traced little designs into the skin. "Uh-huh.", i couldn't think of anything, i wanted to be distracted, to be lulled away from reality at the tips of his fingers. "Please-", my desperation was rewarded as I felt his fingers dig underneath my thighs, lifting me into his strong, steady arms. "Shhh...", his whisper was so calming, "turn that pretty head off, i can think for you.", he hummed, his lips next to my ear as he kissed the hook of it. His lips were so soft, always slick with chapstick, usually mine.

The thick head of his cock, buried, snug into me. His pants from above as his leg lifted, caging mine to the bed. A whimper, back arching off the bed as his tip prodded at the beginning of my cervix, his love was soft and kind. His lips sparing words of comfort and care as he bullied into me. His chest was slick with sweat, the cold air now stuffy from the breath shared between us. "You're mine... protect what's mine, sweet girl.", he grunted, his eyes closed tightly, black hair falling over his forehead, stuck to the pale skin with his sweat. "Won't let anyone hurt you-", the promise laced in swears, in moans of pleasure and solemn love. Tears probed the back of my eyes, stinging as the salty tears ran down my temples, gliding across the ragged skin of my scar. It wasn't obvious, my hair covered it most of the time, but to me... it was a permanent reminder of how stupid I use to be. I hope, somewhere along the way, I've changed.

"Stop thinking.", my thoughts are replaced by Ryan's words as i felt the band in my belly tighten, the rocking of his hips, his pubic bone grinding my clit perfectly. "Not- thinking-", my words were strained from my lips, teeth biting into the plump flesh, head back and toes curling as his cock hit the spongey, nerve filled spot that pushed me over the edge, more tears sliding across my heated skin. "There you go-", he moaned, his cock twitching, the fluttering of my walls pushing his climax to the tip, releasing his cum into me, the warmth filling up the thin area between us. Weak moms left his lips, his breath mingling with my pants as he pressed his forehead to mine."Good girl.", his hand brushed back my hair, my eyes catching his green ones. "fuck-!", he whined, sliding his softening cock from my folds, hissing at the sensitivity of his body.

  "I have to get ready for work and so do you, my pretty.", his lips press a kiss into my collar, his nose bumping my shoulder as he presses his warm lips to the flesh. "Don't remind me~", my tone whiny, yet playful as he laughs, his clear voice. His body like a fresh winters day. He was the opposite of the warm boy I once thought I loved... my love falling from boiling water to a crisp ice bath, shocking me. "You gotta-", he reached down to swipe his pants up. "How else are those drunks gonna get their fill of cheap booze?", a grumble left my lips, rolling my eyes at the thigh of a few angry drunks muttering about their drinks taking a little longer to pour than usual. "I think they'd survive.", a mutter from my lips, eyes catching his as he laughed, knowing my annoyed look was one that would soon fall into a plead for him to say. "Look, i'll take you out, some place nice and expensive. How about Bella's?", my interest was peaked, "As long as we get that-", "Red wine, you love so much?", he pointed his fingers in a finger gun motion at me, his nerdy personality something I didn't know I needed. "You got yourself a deal.", my eyes watch as he tucks in his button up, his eyes searching for his glasses as he slides them across the bride of his nose. "I'll be back at 5, okay?", his uniform make him look like some... TV show character. Like he was from my favorite crime show, my smile fell... I hadn't watched it since that night with Leon.

"Quit thinking about it. Fancy dinner and drunks are all you should be thinking about.", his lips pressed to my cheek, brightening my expression with a simple gesture. "Be careful driving to work, the roads are slick.", I called out, watching him walk through the bedroom door. "Always am, you better be careful too. That damn Maxima is nearly on its last legs.", my lips parted in a drop, "Don't talk bad about my car!", his laughter was all i heard before the front door shut, leaving me to my thoughts once more. That's all I had left from Raccoon City, the government agent sent me off $500 and my car, telling me to start over somewhere new, that Leon had agreed to work with them and that I'd be on my own. That's what lead me here... to the rainy city. It was similar to Raccoon City, maybe I craved that familiarity.

  Then again this was suppose to be a new start, which is why I'd gave up the coroner's assistant job, instead becoming a bartender at a local bar called White Wolf Lodge, it was a hotel and bar. Somewhere for truck drivers to relax their few off days, getting to stretch their legs and have a bed for the night, some to lace to rest their beer bellies. I wanted to go back to the assistant job eventually, but it's like I'd seen enough death for my life time.

  My uniform shirt was tight, my tits nearly falling over the front of it, my push up bra doing what it was mad to. Keeping those babies up and perky. The black shirt supported a white wolf howling on the back and a 'White Wolf Lodge' embroidered patch on the front. My jeans were simple, bedazzled and hip hugging, showing off for tips wasn't my favorite thing to do but money was tight in one of the most expensive cities in the US. I needed all the tips i could get. My arms covered my hair as I ran out to the white Maxima, nearly slipping on the pavement. "Come on, Come on...", the buttons on the fob has started to give out, the car was nearly on its last leg but that didn't mean that i was going to let it go any time soon. Rain pelted down, lightening causing me to jump as the door finally unlocked. "Shit!", my fingers fumbled the door handle as i jumped in.

 

  My head hit the head rest, eyes rolling as the thunder shook through vehicle. Let's just get through today. Just make sure the customers are happy and the bar stays clean. My fingers slip past the seat belt, hearing the click as it safely secures. My fingers curl over the steering wheel that now bore some rips in it. Eyes catch the rear view mirror, always expecting to see a green jeep parked behind me. A silent wave of relief follows after realizing that indeed there is no jeep, no looming threat.

———

  "Hey! I thought you were off today?", Marina spoke up, her green eyes bright as she leans over the bar counter. "Sadly, not.", my lips curl into a slight smile. Of everyone I've met since moving here, Marina was the one that i got to call my best friend. Her black hair resting under her shoulders and her sparking green eyes always a sight for sore eyes. "Well, at least we're working together tonight, you could've gotten stuck with T.", she raised her brow, a smirk on her lips as he propped up with her elbows. At the mention of T, my mood sours, my brows dropping as I deadpan at her. "Yeah. Fair enough.", my bag is plopped down under the bar, my body resting against the bar with her, elbows bumping as I lay my head on her shoulder.

"I'm glad, i'm here with you.", I sighed, her shoulder tensed. "You've got that tone, you're thinking about that guy again, aren't you?", her tone was accusatory, but concerned. I had told her about Leon before, that he was a psycho sweet heart in a drunk hangout at her place. "Yeah, it's like he's a damn ghost.", I scoffed, my legs bending to crouch under the bar. "Not like i want to dream about the day i got my head split open.", my finger toyed the scar on my temple. "Plus, i just think it's because it's closing in on the day i got moved-", I hadn't told anyone about the dead eating the living, about the monsters that prowled the streets. It was too much for my brain to handle, i wouldn't scar anyone else with the thoughts and images.

  "Maybe so... what's it called?", she kept staring at the patrons, waiting for someone to need another refill or some god awful bar snacks. "Anniversary Reactions, i think is what my therapist told me.", her body quickly turned towards mine, her eyes settled on the tip of my head, i could hear the cogs in her brain turning as she stood in silence. "Go ahead.", I knew where this was going. Why don't you, "see a therapist?", her voice cut in. "Because i'm fine, he's far away doing god knows what and i'm working at this shit hole with you.", a dopey smile crossing my lips, eyes fluttering up to hers. "I think you'd benefit from it.", her tone was serious and i knew she meant it. She'd hounded me for months after i confessed my past to her. "Please, just try it once if you hate it, you don't have to go back.", she used that same line to try and convince me.

  "Moonpie-", the nickname that i made for the bubbly girl, "I'll be okay. I'm doing better, like you said... anniversary reactions.", I was tired of reliving the day nearly daily, my fingers wrapping around a rag as i grabbed a bottle of cleaner, spraying down the empty end of the bar. "I just worry about you. You look like you haven't slept in weeks.", her voice was so small, I nearly felt bad for lying. "I've been sleeping, I've been feeling better than I have in a long time... let me have this.", my eyes meeting hers, whispering the words to her, head over my shoulder to gaze at her as I lean on the counter, wiping the bubbly cleaner. "Yeah... okay.", she wasn't giving up, but she was giving me this and it's all I could ask her. I just wanted to get through today, go to the dinner with Ryan and have a nice day tomorrow.

  "Also, i meant to say-", Marina spoke up once more, her hands busy straightening the back bar, the bottles clicking over the soft rock music and atmospheric mumbling of people talking. "there's this guy, he asked about you, said he knew you and that you two use to date?", her eyes fell on me. "He asked for me by name? That's... really odd. I only had one ex.", my head tilted, eyes narrowing as i tried to think of any body would say that, but some regulars liked to say i was their girl, shit like that. I just assumed it was that. "Yeah, he's handsome. I think he's still here somewhere.", she moved to stand next to me, my head twisting to look out over the tables. "He's...", she scouted the area, finger to her chin as she moved from side to side.

  As she scoped out the area, I decided to try and straighten up, making it look like we weren't just talking, our manager hated when we talked and stood around for too long. "He ordered a whiskey on the rocks and asked if I'd leave the bottle.", she mumbled, trying to spot him. "Did you?", my eyes lingered on her, picking up glasses with my fingers as I picked up them up, walking towards the kitchen window. "Yeah.", she shrugged, "Didn't see why i shouldn't.", she hummed, her lips parting as she grabbed my arm, nearly making the glasses slip from my grip as i was yanked closer to her. "There he is!", she pointed, her slender, manicured finger pointing at a guy with his head down. A half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's laid in front of him. "Him?", my brain wracked itself to try and place the darker hair and tan skin. His leather jacket hiding his build and his head hanging, hiding his features. "Yeah, sorry, no idea who that-", as I spoke, his head raised, my lips stopping, the next words dying on my lips.

A bright blue sky, a raging ocean, not a single cloud in the skies of his eyes. A clashing sound met my ears but I couldn't place where it came from until the lessened weight of my hands finally registered, the crunch of glass under my shoes ringing in my ears as I stepped back. The taste of acid once more meeting my taste buds, he couldn't be... it wasn't true. I saw him all the time, i'm passing strangers and blonde officers- this was one of those moments. Was I losing my mind? Was this real or was my mind's eye once more throwing me into a relived memory? My heart dropped once his lips curled into a knowing smirk, his hand raising the ombré glass up in a 'cheers', his blue eyes lit up with amusement. He chuckled, I couldn't hear it, i could just see his shoulders shake.

  "Hey, what's wrong?", Marina's fingers dug into my shoulders as I didn't respond. "Hey-!", she shook me, her hands rocking me as she moved her face to block my sight of the man. "Are you okay?!", she was near hysterical but so was I. "Yeah-", I squeaked, it had to be him. It had to be, I couldn't be this crazy. "I just... i need a minute, okay?", my hands fell to her shoulders, she nodded, but her brows were furrowed, watching me walk away. The glass crunching with each step as I reached for my bag, immediately calling Ryan as i felt a sob fall from my lips. He was back. I wasn't safe anymore and he had seen me, asked for me... that coffin looked more and more comfortable. The one place he couldn't find me.

[colorful-white-ideas]

Things that I thought only happen on telenovelas ...

*Long txt about pregnancy read it if you want.

So i was losing my free time on Twitter when:

" pregnant woman kidnapped while going to the hospital to deliver her baby" I was shocked I clicked and read:

"Pregnant woman was on her way to the hospital after her water broke , desperate and alone took a cab from the street and called her family, they were waiting for her at the hospital entrance but she never arrived. 24 hrs have passed now since the last time they heard from her , she is nowhere to be found. Police and authorities suspect of human trafficking mafia."

I felt an anguish, a woman in her most vulnerable state kidnapped? They killed her ? Maybe. They stole her baby? Most likely. But how ? How is that they cannot find her? she was basically giving birth wtf is wrong with this world?. The more I read the more sad I became , she looked so happy on her baby shower showing her big belly to the world, playing games with her partner in the party ... The family said the young mom was planning everything for her daughter's arrival. Yes ,the baby was a girl , they even had a name for her: Martina

The woman's mother asked for help on television, said that her daughter's partner was now suspected because he did not report the incident as quickly as he should have.

The partner. A man. why that doesn't surprise me. I immersed myself on the story so much that I started searching some article , video where that man showed his face and his dispair for his now missing child and woman... But nothing. I started to think " he did something to her , maybe he didn't love her anymore ,maybe he never wanted to be a father , he is a monster , someone hang him upside down and make him talk " I wanted blood, I wanted answers , I wanted justice because as a women how i would not to ?

More time passed , there was not a single clue. Her phone out of service after she called her family, no info about the cab or driver that was with her , no cameras on the main avenues. The whole country paralyzed , groups of women praying with candels asking God to please have some mercy ... Maybe if we appeal to Virgin Mary she could help us , In a country were in the last year 5 thousand women disappeared maybe a miracle is what we need.

Then a ray of hope , a close neighbour had some security cameras, the angle was short but it was good enough to film the instant where the pregnant woman ( lets call her J) is seen leaving her building in a hurry , and then a couple ( man and woman) come back and leave the building again but with luggages on their hands. WHO ARE THEY , maybe the fake driver had accomplices , maybe they where following her , they kew where she lived and now they are retrieving her stuff ... where did they take her? BUT it was reported she was completely alone what its going on?

That was yesterday

Today we woke up with good and bad news

" J appeared. In early hours of the morning , the woman was abbandoned in a location far away from where she was kidnapped, her child is still missing" . The familly found her , well actually she found them, some of her relatives live in the town where she was left or released. From there her parents took her to a hospital where the doctors stabilized her, she had scratches - bruises in her arms, and seemed drugged. Meanwhile J's Partner was being interrogated by the police.

The public is expecting some answer and now we will have more clues , in the meantime the country authorities has forbidden new borns to travel out of the country.

J doesn't want to talk, understandeable we think. The hours pass and new info surface : The happy couple that expected their first child , Was in fact reunited due to the pregnancy... they were separated before that. This explain the family suspicion. They didnt have a good relationship.

With J in the hospital and the baby still missing; the now father, still does not appear on tv or any other media asking for help. He is silent , very silent. What kind of father is he?

J finally finally speaks, and say that she gavebirth the baby but didnt hear her cry , their captors told her the baby was born dead, she was not able to see the body. She is afraid of reveal their identities , they threatened her with killing her or her family. How did she scape them? its not very clear

The search for the baby girl continues.

At noon today : The case was so big at this point that a couple of ministers where talking with the press about it. One of them, the head of all the police forces declares the imposible: She has no clinical signs of ever being pregnant.

The country frozes for a second. WHAT, HOW ? we all saw the pictures and videos, friends an family get defensive and declare they saw and touched the belly , they all saw it grow ... but no one can answer who was her obgyn doctor ,its like no one had ever wondered that till today. More time pass , there is no actual proof of one thing or the other , medical records are confidential ... J requests to be discharged cause she felt harassed by the doctors. " They dont leave her alone" said J's father.

Leave her alone? If she in fact gave birth in poor conditions SHE NEEDS medical attention with urgency. The police reveal that she doesn't want to cooperate with physical examinations. The baby search is now second priority.

Some of us still want to believe in her, "this is just a mistake, she is just traumatized, dont waste more time. Keep looking for that baby God dammit!! " I say while I'm reading the updates.

Then , because since the dawn of the internet nothing really remains hidden, her lab works are leaked to the press:

Her Human chorionic gonadotropin hormone (hCG) levels , the pregnancy hormone , were basically 0 zero . In a puerperous woman those levels are still high during the 2 first weeks after labor and she allegedly delivered the baby a day before yesterday. She lied. She was never pregnant.

J suddenly feel better and declare to the press outside her family's house wearing jeans and walking without problems, she insist in her pregnancy, says the doctors are wrong because maybe she couldn't get all the examination done ( she refused them but doesn't mention that) , that she will prove she was pregnant. She only mentions the baby and how worried she is when someone reminds her that.

But no one believes her. The "father" is still silent , the police now investigate a fake pregnancy and delivery ... That is a felony here.

Unless a psychologic pregnancy is proven.

These las 2 days were an emotional rollercoaster... I have never thought someone could ever go that far with a lie of that sort. Did the guy knew? And play all along with her waiting for the moment to come? Pictures, videos, baby shower, she arranging the baby's room, people who touched her and saw her ... She lied every one. For what?

Time and investigation will determine.

Life imitates fiction.

The news here but in Spanish

[johnnysgonnadie]

Meredith - Prologue

Hey, guys! I've been scraping together a fanfic idea set in Bullet Train with a female OC I've quickly gotten attached to who's a very, very angry civilian seeking justice for a past wrong. I plan to follow the events of the film fairly closely with a few major changes. There won't be any romantic relationships or smut. I will warn that she's in heavy grief and is struggling with depression, self-loathing, and suicidal thoughts. This is an emotionally rocky one. Additionally, while I've had an account on AO3 and Tumblr for a bit, I have written very little and forced myself to just get the prologue over with, so it's not beta read. I would love some comments and feedback! Crossposting Meredith from AO3! I hope you enjoy! *end notes*

Waking.

Brushing.

Dressing.

Working.

Home.

Brushing.

Bathing.

Sleeping.

Waking.

Brushing.

Everything is fine. Just change your clothes. Like a functional person.

Working.

Home.

Cry at the graveyard.

It’s past midnight. Wanna get mugged?

Almost driving on the wrong side of the road.

Home.

Bathing.

Brushing.

Sleeping.

Waking.

Come to school late. Now you really have failed your kids.

So sorry, sir. It won't again.

No, sir. I'm fine.

Please don't. Please don't pity me. Please hate me as much as I hate myself.

Home.

Takes forever to sleep tonight. But when do I not?

Stop that. What was that Lily told you? Try making up a story in your head. Have fun making your story…writing it…dreaming it…

You failed her. You can’t even remember what she told you. Even though she made you feel so good. Selfish bitch.

Don’t swear, Jess would say. But you failed her too, didn’t you?

Waking kicking and screaming.

You idiot, it’s Saturday. And you failed your therapist too.

Therapy. Barry. Barry’s sweet. Too sweet for his own good.

How does he do that? Smile and always see the good in people, no matter what?

You were able to do that too, weren’t you?

But that’s what made you betray the people you trusted.

You bump into Nanao.  Nanao, another one of Barry's patients.  He's sweet too.  Certainly jittery.  And a bit on the older side.  One of the few friends you made these days.

You have so much respect for the aging, the experienced, who were able to still look both behind and forward with joy.

You wish you were able to have that.

Home.

Sleeping.

Waking.

You try those breathing exercises Barry told you about. You hear heartbeats that aren’t your own.

You faint and you remember screaming.

Waking. 3 AM. Guess you got sleep after all.

Old records. You kept every tape, every news report, every article.

Everything was so perfect. Where did it go so wrong?

You cry yourself to sleep on the floor.

Waking. 11 AM. Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty. Damn near let yourself get raped by the prince.

Lily and Jess wouldn’t want you speaking like that either. And everyone else. Minnesota nice indeed.

You pull yourself back up. You have pathetic form.

You go to church. You weren’t exactly devout, but you know God will come for you. You want Him to. You wanted to come for Him, too. Give you what you deserved. You pray to everyone you loved. At least they’re in Heaven.

Home.

Cooking. You are barely awake and spill and burn yourself to your heart’s discontent. You realize you made Timmy’sfavorite food.

You slam your face into your plate. Cleanup. Clean up, clean up, everybody clean up…

Stop that. You don’t deserve to sing that song. You don’t deserve to sing ever again.

Brushing.

Wait…brushing, bathing, three meals…whatever. You can’t keep track of those things anymore. Just do whatever and sleep.

Whatever.

Sleep.

Whatever.

Sleep.

Whatever.

Sleep.

On and on and on and on…That’s it.

That’s what should be it.

Move on.  You cannot remember how many times you were told that, how many times you tried, by the people who were also hurt by what happened.

You hated yourself even more, when you saw how much better they were at coping than you.  

Why don’t you try that? Your kids would want you to.

Yes. That’s it. The power of love. Use that.

Love that you—

Oh, at least pretend you are who you used to be, you hollow shell!

You try to tell Barry a joke. He laughs. You smile. It’s not fake but it feels like it. It hurts.

You drive past the police station. You feel like dying. But you go in.

Hey, guys. It’s you-know-who again.

What did I say about pity—?!

Sorry, guys, I’m fine.

Awkward jokes. Awkward laughing. Awkward silence.

Move on. Move on. Move on.

So…

Don’t.

…anything about…

Ruin.

…Meredith?

Why didn’t you literally fuck yourself in front of them for all you care?

They sigh. They do pity you. So, so much.

They pull out the usual spiel about how it was a tragic accident, about options for treatment, how they're so fucking sorry.

You drive home in tears, in rage. Why would they close it…how dare they close it?!

You watch every news report, read everything you’ve collected again.

You remember how the police did nothing.

You remember how hard everyone cried, how hard you cried.

You remember how you visited their graves every night until you couldn’t take it.

You remember how it was attributed to a political assassination attempt.

You remember how you reacted when you saw the person they caught.

How…wrong it seemed.  

Like they were telling the truth, but not the full truth.

You get an idea.

A very, very long idea.

And yet…

You go to Bernie. Cool, sweet Bernie. Bernie, the teenage drug dealer and budding gang member that you helped become a happily married successful teacher.

Back when you thought you could solve every problem with just kind words and a smile.

You ask Bernie for access to the black market.

Bernie tries to get through to you.

You’re too angry. You beg. You play tough…then you break down and plead.

You explain.

Bernie understands.

You wait.

Bernie works.

In days, you get access to the dark web. To darker networks.

What you find turns everything you thought about the world upside down.

An entire John Wick-level network - system - world of criminals, all within reach.

You get your own account on a literal website with an agency of professional criminals.

You feel like ripping your heart out every time you see something new.

One contact catches your eye.

The Twins. Lemon and Tangerine.

One of them is…that fucking…

British-born, apparently brothers, notorious in the business for two jobs.

The most recent is a job in Bolivia where they wiped out an entire camp of guerrillas leaving behind a Saving Private Ryan zone.

Absolute psychopaths.

The second is far more alarming. Shockingly minimal details compared to the outright trophies that some of the other assassins displayed in their attempts to promote themselves - and professional criminals wouldn’t exactly be known for asking questions and talking much, would they? But it paid 10 million, more than any other job you’ve seen on the site, and by this time, you’ve looked through dozens of criminals, and it involved a Minnesotan politician.

Holy shit.

I’m gonna get you like I should’ve a long time—

Everything afterwards is a blur.

You place a job offer for a snatch-and-grab in St. Paul, where you live. It’s meant to be a distraction, you don’t care about whatever’s in the politician’s suitcase, you want to follow whatever asshole picks up on you.

Within hours, it gets answered. By an incredibly smug looking mercenary called Carver who’s a dick. But he is clearly an experienced assassin.

You managed to sneak up and witness how he does things. How he leaves no trace. How he covers his bases. You weren’t worried about witnesses or innocents, you drilled it into his head that she wanted no lethal force, or no payment. You couldn’t help but smirk when you were able to annoy him instead of the other way around for once.

You pay him, and you browse your account for jobs. You see a recently taken hit job in New York City.

You announce that you are taking a long hiatus, a retreat for your mental health.

You are greeted with the expected joy and relief that you are finally going to get better.

You find yourself smiling too, as you’ll both bring and be brought to justice.

You gather all the money left to you in the wills, in your bank account, everything. Money never quite mattered to you beyond sustenance, and nowadays it mattered much less. You pack up things that will help you survive, but never live.

You don’t expect to come back home. You are completely fine with that.

You book the nearest flight to NYC, and remember the vacation you took with your kids. You can’t help but remember all the photos you took and the sights you saw and the sounds of excitement and wonder you heard.

You cry yourself to sleep on the plane and wake up when you land.

When you do, you log onto the website.

You were related to and worked with computer science professionals. Over the last few years you learned all you could.

Now that Bernie and everyone else is truly safe, you take a deep breath and hack away.

You find the address of a meeting point.

You go.

It’s absolute chaos.

A shootout. Blood. The coldest, most inhumane expressions you’ve ever seen on the human face.

You keep yourself from breaking, from lashing out, from yelling at them to take you too.

You force yourself to study everything, pay attention to everything.

At the end, there are 23 dead bodies.

You follow the survivors.

You find yourself in the midst of an ongoing gang war and criminals off the agency are actively being hired.

You keep track of it all, add to your notes, your research.

You follow every job you can, learn what you can, budget your money so you can remain efficient. Eventually you get good at some things too. You start to rob and pickpocket, doing so only on the most decadent and unassuming. You notice which points of the body are most sensitive. You learn how to chamber a round. You work out how to be the right balance between threatening and restrained. You teach yourself some moves, which you practice on any creepy stalker.

But you never take a job. You never take a life. You don’t even get a gun.

Despite everything you see…you just can’t.

Because when you see all these people, you see the ones you hurt.

You see how much they loved you, how much they trusted you.

You remember how Kit-Kat thought you were her Wonder Woman.

How they saw you as a hero.

They may be gone…but this is the best you can do to keep them alive.

Months pass. Then years.  You've learned enough to be a knowledge broker if you wanted.

You come home when you can, concocting an elaborate lie of how you're traveling the world for writing inspiration, making a fair fortune out of freelance and fiction under pen names.  Like a super spy, you enthuse.

That was what Isabelle's dream was.

You’re walking in London. You come across the Twins’ flat, in a neighborhood far too nice for the likes of them.

Scouting them for years, you found yourself feeling jealous of how close they are. You were loved and you did have a wonderful family, but as an only child, you were always curious what having a sibling would be like.

Of course, they were assassins. They would never know what actual love was like, and whatever dynamic they had going on, it was in no way healthy or something to look up to. That was clear from the very start, and you barely refrained from scoffing every time they showed "affection" for each other.

There was absolutely no way whatsoever that anything positive could come out of these people.

Spending years researching bullshit in the name of a sweet, sweet level of justice no motherfucker in this excuse of a line of work could even begin to comprehend left you with a very low tolerance for it.

You listen through the hidden recording devices you have set up.

You learn they are soon on a job involving the son of the White Death, the most powerful crime boss on the planet, and a briefcase with 10 million dollars. You pause.

You remember research you did on a recent transaction between a group of Russian operatives and a Yakuza member.

And that a job offer you hacked into involving a similar briefcase and said Son was in fact not taken by the Twins, but the Hornet, an American who specialized in poisons and almost always did kill jobs.

There were multiple assassins hired for jobs on this train.

You chuckle mirthlessly. Unlucky bastards.

It was going to go wrong.  So, so wrong.

And that was what made it perfect. You had spent years waiting for the opportune moment to strike. To dish out karma. To let your pain out and end on a high.

You had found your moment.

You find the exact Nippon Speed Line they’re all booked for, and get yourself a ticket. To your surprise, the train is almost fully booked.

Oh, well. You can be surprising, too.

I’m coming for you, my loves…

[treadmilltreats]

Do not give up hope

Ever wonder how the wicked prosper and the righteous suffer?

Yes, you are trying to walk the right path. You go to church, you give, you pray, you help others, and you try to be the best person you can be in God's eyes, yet your prayers still go unanswered.

There goes an unbeliever. You see them cheat, they steal, they lie, they step on others to get what they want and look at what they are getting, all the riches you've been praying for. You're thinking, how could that be possible? Where is the justice in that? When will it be your turn?

Do you say, why shouldn't I be like them? If I am not going to get all I've been praying for, why should I do all these good things and still not be rewarded?

You're not going to work 40 hours a week and not expect a paycheck, right? You know what's coming at the end of the week? You know your paycheck is coming, right?

So why don't you have the same faith in God? You know, if you believe that God is not one to lie, why do you doubt your payday is not coming from him?

Yes, you have problems, and yes, you need God's help, but be careful that your problems don't lock you in a room. That they do not take over your mind and your life. That they don't become so big that they are in your mind every waking moment.

It's so big that you become another person, and it's wrecking your relationship and your life.

Shouldn't your every waking moment be about God, that you should be praying and believing? My favorite saying is from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr "Pray and let God worry." You can't pray and worry. You need to do one or the other.

When you're so down and you need someone to have your back, who do you turn to? Do you think that you can't give it to him, that he won't always be there for you?

We expect things to come to us, but we don't want to seek after him. You have to put effort into it. You are sleepwalking through your life.You are worrying about things you can not change.

Even in my darkest days, I still praised his name. I still thanked him, I can remember when I thought I found love and thought it was my season finally, when the rug was pulled out from under me yet again.

The first thing I did was get down on my knees and pray. I thanked him for his strength, I thanked him for all my other blessings in my life. I praised him in my darkest moments, and I knew that he would get me through this, I knew this was another test I needed to learn for my testimony.

Is that why you're depressed because you are not putting him first. When things go bad, do you lose your faith? Do you stop praising his name? Say why me right away?

"Go after his things, not yours, and when you do, he will bless you with all the things your heart desires."

We think God only blesses good people, but God even blessed Jacob and looked at all he did. If you can obey, even if you're a Jacob, you will get God's blessings.

I never say I am not going to get all I pray for. No, I have sick faith. I say yes, I am GOING to become a New York Times bestselling author. I will have an extremely successful blog. I will travel around the world inspiring others to keep the faith. This is not a fairy tale to me. This is what is going to happen, I am speaking it into the atmosphere, and it will be.

So today, my friends, remember to walk in faith. Do something you have never done before because what do you have to lose? Keep your faith, keep praising, keep knowing your blessings are coming, and never lose hope, for he can do miracles for those who believe.

"Be the change you want to see"

@TreadmillTreats"Be the change you want to see"

@Treadmilltreats

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[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

4/23/2023 DAB Chronological Transcription

1 Chronicles 1-2

Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological. Today's the 23rd day of April. It's so good to be back with you. I'm Jill. Thank you for allowing me to be here because it's a privilege of a lifetime to be able to read the word of God for all of us here together in chronological order. And we do it every day together. We will get through the Word in its entirety, in chronological order. As best as historians and theologians can tell, the events of the Bible took place. We've got some names to get through today. We're going to meet some people, so buckle in. It could be a little bumpy. Just being honest. I'll just throw it out there. I am not the best at names, but I have researched a little bit and I'm going to do to the absolute darndest of my ability to do these names justice. But perfection is not the point embracing the process. So if you know the names better than I do, God bless you. Don't get glazed over. Stay present with the story. These people are not irrelevant, otherwise they would not be here in the Bible. So let's jump in together. Today we're reading First Chronicles, chapters one and two. And we're starting a brand new translation in this brand new week christian Standard Bible. That's where we're at. First Chronicles Chapter One.

Prayer:

Father, we thank you for your word. Thank you for the brand new start of a brand new week and the promise of all things new. Thank you for being here with us. We consecrate this week to you. We open our hearts to receive all that you would say do in us, through us and among us, through Your Word. Today and this week we give you this space. In this time, I pray that we would be conscientious of every thought, word indeed that comes out of our mouth, every action as we represent a good. And loving and kind Father. Help us. We pray this now in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Announcements:

Looking forward to a great week with you all here. It's great to be back. And we'll turn the page together in the story of our own lives and in the story of the Word of God. Until then, I'm Jill, love one another.

Community Prayer Line:

Good morning, DABC family. This is Lady of Victory. On the morning of April 18, this call is for his rider Die, the motorcycle rider who called in regarding her recent divorce final being finalized and just how big she was, even in her sadness that she wants to pray for her husband and the mistress. The Bible tells us to pray for those who persecute us and despitefully use us. And you're on the right track. So that our God. How excellent is your name? We come to you on behalf of your daughter who is grieving God the loss of her marriage. And even though she was having difficult times in her marriage. It doesn't seem like she wanted it to end in divorce. But God, here she is and you love her nonetheless, God. She is no throwaway, she's no mistake, none of that, God. And so we ask Father, that first of all, she'll continue to grow in you and continue to seek your faith and what you have for her next versus seeking who is next in her life, God, in terms of another marriage or whatever. But that she will seek first the kingdom and everything else will be added unto her. And we do lift up her husband and we do lift up that other woman, God, because they are made in your image, God, and you love them and you want their lives and you want them saved just like you want his right or die. So we ask God that through all of this ugliness, beauty will come out of these ashes somehow, some way, because you're in it in Jesus name, be encouraged.

Good morning. The DABC Family this is the Burning Bush that will not be devoured for the glory of our God and King. Today I'm calling for Veronica who goes by Hopeful and her husband. She just went through fertility treatments that did not work. Veronica. Hopeful, I heard your voice and I heard a lot of passion and desire in your voice, that your desire is to parents and to mother and that desire is not in everyone. And so just listening to you, I said to myself, god must have put that desire in her heart. And so if God puts that desire in your heart, I am so hopeful and believe, actually, I feel like I know that God is going to honor that. So don't lose hope. Take courage. You're not in control. I heard someone say, a pastor say once, he says, God always says take courage. He doesn't say take control because you're not in control. God is always in control. But take courage, my sister. It is not an if, it is a when. And so I pray that God will give you the faith and the patience as you wait, that God will give you the strength and the direction and wisdom to sow seeds. Sow seeds and just invest your passion into his lost ones, those in need of parenting at this time as you invest your heart. I don't know what kind of ministry or whatever it is you can do, god is going to be working in the background. Have faith, my sister. So father God, I just commit hopeful into your hands. I pray. O Lord, I praise you for healing her womb and making her fruitful. Per your word. In the name of Jesus, we believe and pray. Amen.

Hello, this is my first time calling in to give prayer request and to pray for somebody. My name is Rhonda and I live in Pennsylvania and my daughter Jen is the one who told me about Daily Audio Bible. So very thankful to her and it certainly has helped me a lot to get a much better picture of the whole Bible in its entirety and how everything connects so well. So I've been learning and growing a lot, and I listened to this is the April 18 recording of chronological. And there was a lady who called in and said that her divorce had just been finalized, and I didn't catch her name, but she was saying that she is from an Asian culture, I believe, and likened her divorce being final to the Day of the Dead that they have every year. And I just want to let you know my heart went out to you because I am in the same situation. The divorce was final this past August and I just want to let you know that I will be praying. I will pray for you for continued healing and you asked for prayer for your ex husband and the woman who had come into your life. And I just want want to let you know that healing will continue and don't lose hope and just keep going and spending time with God and he will heal you and.

[amicidomenicani]

Question Good morning, Father Angelo, I hope you are fine. I have a question, and this time it's about my inner life. Until now I had never confided to anyone the story that I am going to humbly entrust to you. It is about my inner life. I started praying for priests in 2016. In practice, it was the year in which yet another story of sexual abuse had shocked the church and the world, especially the United States. I began to pray for the priests to thank Christ for the graces and the mercy he gave me. By praying for priests my spiritual life has progressively changed. I felt like Christ was acting and was more and more present in my life. I began to feel his presence more and more, and He began to provide for both my spiritual and material needs, and to guide my life along safe paths. It almost seemed that He, in his communication and in guiding me with his love, was addressing me directly. At first, I doubted it was true, but every time I delved through study and research, I realized that what I received in prayer was correct and real. Why does this happen, Father Angelo? Why did Christ suddenly start acting in my inner life? Over time my prayer for the priests increased: I started praying for my own priests, bishops, cardinals, to the point where I started praying for the Holy Father, Pope Francis. Like a small plant that turns into a big tree. And I didn't stop there. My prayers have extended to those who themselves pray and intercede, as nuns and sisters. And each time Christ responds with His providence. I ask for your opinion on this, dear father, and for advice on how to behave. Thank you very much. P.S. Since I came across this website, every time I pray for priests you are included too. Answer of the priest Dear friend, 1. I believe that there has been a positive turning point in your spiritual life precisely because of a particularly precious good work, which is the prayer done for priests. 2. Although conferred a particular sanctity by reason of the character imprinted on their soul in the day of their priestly ordination, they are not exempt from the temptations of the evil one. When St. Thomas wonders why Jesus Christ let himself be tempted, he replies that he did it “that we might be warned, so that none, however holy, may think himself safe or free from temptation. Wherefore also He wished to be tempted after His baptism, because, as Hilary says (On Matthew, 3): «The temptations of the devil assail those principally who are sanctified, for he desires, above all, to overcome the holy». Hence also it is written (Sir 2:1): «Son, when you come to the service of God, stand in justice and in fear, and prepare your soul for temptation»” (S. Th., III, 41, 1). 3. Your prayer communicates immense strength in the world. Alexis Carrell, a Nobel laureate in medicine who converted in Lourdes after a resounding miracle, said that "prayer is the most powerful form of energy we can arouse". After yet another scandal at the hands of priests, the Lord aroused in you the desire to pray for them. Indeed, it was the Lord who aroused this desire in you, “for God is the one who, for his good purpose, works in you both to desire and to work” (Phil 2:13). By reciprocating, it is as if you had opened the door to the Lord, who has entered even more into your life. St. Therese of the Child Jesus was right in saying that a well returned grace is followed by many others. 4. The temptations to which priests are exposed are of various kinds. I will just point out one: inurement to what they do. Accustomed to being in the Church and going around the altar, they may lose awareness of the greatness of their mission. I am writing to you on 23 September 2022, memorial of St. Padre Pio of Pietrelcina. Here is the advice he gave to one of his spiritual daughters: “Enter the church in silence and with great respect, considering and deeming you unworthy to appear before the Majesty of the Lord”.

The priest enters it all the time for a thousand reasons. And here he takes the risk of not thinking at all that he is standing before the Majesty of the Lord. Padre Pio also wrote to the same person: "When you leave church, have a collected and calm attitude: at first greet Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, ask him for forgiveness for the shortcomings committed in his divine presence and do not part with Him unless you have first obtained the paternal blessing”. Because of the constant coming and going, the priest is tempted not to think at all about the preciousness of that moment both for himself and for the faithful entrusted to him. If, on the contrary, the priest was aware of it, his life would be a continuous blessing: from the Lord to him, and from the priest to his faithful. 5. In a letter sent to his spiritual director, he wrote: “Pietrelcina, April 7, 1913. My dear father, I was still in bed on Friday morning when Jesus appeared to me. He was all battered and disfigured. He showed me a great multitude of regular and secular priests, among whom were several ecclesiastical dignitaries. Some were celebrating, while others were donning or taking off the sacred vestments. It was very painful for me to see Jesus in such distress, so I asked him why he was suffering so much. I did not receive any answer. Nevertheless, his gaze turned again on those priests; but soon after, as if horrified and weary of looking, he withdrew his gaze. And when he raised his eyes and looked at me, to my great horror I noted two tears coursing down his cheeks. He went away from that crowd of priests with an expression of great disgust on his face and cried out: «Butchers! ». Then turning to me he said: «My child, do not think that my agony lasted three hours, no. On account of the souls that I have benefited most, I will be in agony until the end of the world. During the time of my agony, my child, nobody should sleep. My soul goes searching for some drops of human compassion but alas, I am left alone beneath the weight of indifference. The ingratitude and the sleep of my ministers makes my agony all the more grievous. Alas, how little they correspond to my love! What afflicts me most is that they add contempt and disbelief to their indifference. Many times I have been on the verge of thunder against them, had I not been held back by the Angels and by the souls who love me. Write to your (spiritual) father and tell him what you have seen and heard from me this morning. Tell him to show your letter to the Provincial Father…»”. 6. This dramatic vision of Padre Pio leads to reflection. Therefore, continue to pray a lot for priests so that they are aware of their vocation and of the most holy realities of which they are ministers. In proportion to this prayer, the Lord will bless you more and more. Thank you very much for particularly including me in this prayer. I wish you well, I too bless you and gladly reciprocate a special remembrance in prayer. Father Angelo Translated by Chiara P.

[therunawaykind]

She looks like fun - Part II

//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Pairing: Fratboy!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: alcohol, curses

Author's Note: Long and behold the second part of 'She looks like fun.' I'm hoping and praying to whatever god I did this part justice and lives up to the love of the first part. As always checked over and all that jazz Enjoy and happy reading!

Y/C/N = Your countries name

| MASTERLIST | DISCORD | SERIES MASTERLIST |  GET NOTIFIED OF MY STORIES |

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

It had been a few days since your last encounter with any of the Maximoffs, for things pretty much went back to normal or maybe you were just blind seeing Wanda trying to find any opportunity to talk to you. Somehow you were always busy talking to someone, not in a harsh way but she didn’t realise that many people knew you. Wanda was going out of her way to get your attention which she never does with anyone...so why was she acting this way for you. What intrigued her so much about you, she had no answer.

It was now time for math class, why you picked it you didn’t know why but alas here you were. As you walked up to the room to your surprise you were shocked to see Wanda Maximoff there as well as being early, it threw you off. You gave Wanda a little wave and walked into the class. You didn’t know how long this lesson had been going on, all you knew was you were constantly doodling to cure your boredom since the professor let you all work on your own.

You could hear the constant twirling and tapping of Wanda’s pencil, suddenly you got tapped on your shoulder with a pencil. You turned your head back slightly and saw Wanda staring at you, you exhaled and leaned back in your chair “Maximoff, what’s up? What do you need?” Wanda’s leg is constantly bouncing she leans forward with a slight grin “would you mind showing or well I guess I mean explain the answers you have written down to me?” You had a feeling she was just using this as an excuse to talk and be close to you because everyone knew the Maximoff’s were smart but you helped her out anyway. For most of your explanations, Wanda wasn’t listening, all she was doing was either staring at your eyes or your lips, also staring at your hands as you moved them around as you explained everything. Wanda knew she was in deep shit and it was trouble.

You were just out the door when you heard your name being yelled out you spun around thinking it would be Natasha or Maria, again to your surprise it was Wanda. You stopped and arched your eyebrow “hmm?” She caught up to you and tried to catch her breath “I’m….well we Pietro and I are throwing another party and we both wanted to invite you personally because we both know you show up usually because of Natasha and Maria. You gave her a slight smirk and nodded “all right, thank you Maximoff, I might see you there.” You started to walk off but you very quickly turned your head around and shot her a wink. Wanda was stuck in place as she mumbled fuck to herself. All of a sudden she got shoved and an arm thrown around her shoulder “sestra, you’re in big big trouble you’re head over heels for that girl.” Wanda glares at him out of the side of her eye and elbows him into the chest “Piet, do you not think I know that already, fuck!”

You were lying on your bed in your dorm room staring at the ceiling when your phone went off with a text from Natasha “Maria, Daisy and I are outside waiting.” As you were walking downstairs you mumbled “who the fuck is Daisy?” As you walked outside and saw Daisy you smirked to yourself and thought to yourself Daisy might work out well for my plan. As you walked to the party you were talking to Daisy. You found out she went to a different college, hence why you never saw her around campus which works out even better for you. You whispered to Daisy, “hey wanna help me out with something tonight?” Daisy quirks an eyebrow at you “depends on what it involves.” You grin “what if it involves making someone jealous?” She jumped immediately “I’m in I love it.” you both high fived each other, you both walk into the house and immediately place your arm around her shoulder, you spot Wanda in the corner of your eye and lean in and whisper in her ear “let the fun and games begin.” Wanda clenched her jaw as she saw you with Daisy and downed her drink.

You had been deep in conversation with Daisy for hours now, you had no idea where Natasha and Maria was. Quite frequently you could see Wanda walk back and forth trying to draw your attention from the conversation. Soon she had enough she stopped right behind daisy, you noticed her and grabbed Daisy’s shirt and whispered “I’m gonna kiss you don’t freak out.” Daisy nodded slowly and put her arms around your neck as you both started to kiss each other slowly. All of a sudden you heard “Hey! L/n!” Daisy patted your chest and whispered, “that got her attention, have a feeling she doesn’t like me much now.” You turned around and looked at Wanda “Maximoff, what do you need?” She tilted her head to the side “Beer pong tourney and you’re my partner.” You raised your eyebrows and stuttered “but em I’m with Daisy?” Wanda strode over to you “I wasn’t asking you to be my pair, I am telling you.” She grabbed your shirt and pulled you away to the main room. Natasha, Pietro and Maria had seen the whole encounter and started laughing at each other “God they’re both disasters.”

Again you somehow had acquired a baseball cap except for this time it was Wanda’s, how it ended up on your head who knows and of course you had it turned back so you could see properly. You both weren’t surprised to see how well you two worked together as a pair. As the games continued more and more people started to gather around you and Wanda. The last game was coming up and it was you and Wanda against Pietro and T’challa.

You both heard Pietro slur his words “sestra, come on go easy on me.” Wanda rolled her eyes you looked over at Pietro so you cut in “Piet, she may go easy on you but that doesn’t mean I will.” Pietro gasped “well well bring it on L/n.” Wanda looked over at T’challa “sorry about the chaos that is about to ensue, you didn’t sign up for this and also thank you for looking after Piet all night I know he’s usually my partner.” T’challa shook his head “It’s quite alright Wanda, he is quite fun.” You and Wanda smirked and Pietro’s head shot up as he just caught up to what Wanda had said “Hey! I’m twelve minutes older than you, you know!” Everyone scoffed and said in unison “We know you say it nearly every party.”

Before the match started Wanda grabbed your chin between her fingers pulled your head towards her and kissed you and took your shock as a chance to slip her tongue into your mouth. Your eyes were wide in shock and as soon as you reciprocated the kiss she pulled away as you mumbled a quick “fuck.” Wanda smirked to herself as she saw your dilated eyes and started the game. You don’t know when Wanda started to put her arms around you when you took shots but she did and somehow you never missed a shot and whenever you made the shot she would kiss the top of your head. You assumed it was because you were just helping her win, nothing romantic at all right?. After all, right now you’re a tipsy idiot. Although Pietro was the drunkest out of the 4 of you he still somehow put up a good match and made the majority of his shots.

It was down to the last shot and Wanda tossed the ping pong ball to you to win you stared back at her “why does the winning last shot always have to be me.” She laughed “because you’re good Y/n and I was told I had to go easy on Piet.” You looked back over at the cup and saw Pietro getting cosy with Daisy, smiled to yourself, and threw the ball in while he was distracted. It went into the cup smoothly and almost immediately you got picked up by Wanda and the whole house erupted into chaos whilst Pietro stood there dumbfounded. Then the usual after-party started with Daisy cuddled up with Pietro, Natasha with Maria and you leaning against the counter with a drink in your hand talking to Wanda. “You know I was always very intimidated by you lot as a group Maximoff, I never thought I’d get on with you all.”

Wanda shook her head “that’s quite shocking, you’ve fit in so easily Y/n I’m just shocked I never noticed you sooner if I’m being honest. And I’m not gonna lie you wearing my hat tonight I just love it.” You grinned “it is a nice hat Wands.” Wanda’s breath hitched lightly you never call her Wanda only Maximoff and at that, you called her a nickname. Instantly she dragged you over to her and started kissing you fervently and put her hands into the back pockets of your jeans and subtly placed her phone number into your pocket. You hummed against her lips as you felt her hands on your ass and placed your hands on the back of her neck to bring her closer and deepen the kiss.

Going unnoticed by you two everyone had seen the two of you and started silently cheering amongst themselves. Natasha handed Pietro twenty dollars since they started a bet on how long it would take for you two to get together.

Needless to say, after that night things changed. You had woken up the morning after that party and saw Wanda’s name and number sticking out of your pocket. You smirked to yourself and text her found this random number in my pocket last night, can I get a name? To this mysterious number? You knew it was way too early for Wanda to be up considering you were going to your 9 am class. You were sat in class bored out of your mind, you had felt your phone vibrate numerous times throughout this one lesson but considering the professor kept looking at you, you couldn’t check who was texting you, though you had a good idea who it was.

You walked out of the room just about to take out your phone when you felt an arm go around your shoulders. You looked up and saw Wanda and smirked to yourself, you had no idea how she found out what class you had but you weren’t complaining. Wanda leaned over and whispered in your ear “you might wanna wait to check those messages later, some nice pictures in there for you.” You glanced up at her and raised your eyebrow so you obeyed and put your phone back in your pocket. You held onto her hand as you both walked to your next class.

You leaned back in your chair and tuned out from the lesson considering you had the work done spinning the pencil between your fingers. Suddenly you felt someone poke you continuously with their pencil on your back, you turned around and saw it was Wanda. “Yes, Maximoff what do you need?” she leaned forward and whispered, “I’m bored talk to me.” you stared at her and bit your lip slightly, as you looked around the class and turned around to talk to her. Throughout the rest of the lesson, you both subtly touched each other’s hands and stared into each other’s eyes getting to know each other a bit better. As the class finished you both walked out together and Wanda put her hand in the back pocket of your jeans she cleared her throat “uh Y/n do you wanna like go on a date...like a chill hang outdate...I just prefer to be relaxed and you know talk on dates.” You looked up at her and smiled softly and held her free hand “I’d like that a lot, Maxi…..Wanda.” Wanda’s face softened since you called her by her name.

Wanda had taken you to a somewhat secluded green area on the university campus, you were both sat beside each other rambling random facts off about yourselves. She had learned you originally came from y/c/n which is where your slight accent came from, whilst you found out she was from Sokovia and that’s why she had a hint of an accent. You were messing with the rings on her fingers whilst she was getting slightly annoyed at all the boys and girls looking you up and down which you were oblivious to. You were slightly nervous because you knew Wanda had a reputation of just getting girls and leaving them. You glanced up at Wanda and started playing with her necklace, as Wanda was sidetracked she mumbled “hey you wanna go play some bowling or whatever?” you held onto her necklace tighter bit your lip and nodded “yes totally I’d like that, Wanna see how competitive you get Maximoff.”

It was now the start of the second game of bowling needless to say you found out very quickly how competitive Wanda was. She had won the first game maybe a bit too easily….but that was your fault you were getting distracted every single time she threw the bowling ball….to put it more directly you were staring at her ass okay it wasn’t your proudest moment. But you were certain Wanda knew what she was doing. Well well well two can play at that game. You stood up and threw your denim jacket on the chair whilst unbuttoning the top buttons of your blouse so she could see some of your cleavage and slivers of your bra and rolled up your sleeves. You could feel eyes gazing at you possibly more eyes than you anticipated but alas here you are.

As you were walking back to her from getting a strike you saw Wanda staring at your chest, you bit your lip and smirked to yourself. You leaned over to her ear so all she could do was stare down your chest and whispered “my eyes are way up Maximoff.” You kissed her cheek quickly and sat back down and heard her take a deep breath. That just lead Wanda to sway her hips more and try to accentuate her ass as much as physically possible.

On your last throw of the ball, Wanda had won yet again you smirked and spun around and exclaimed “I must say miss Maximoff you’re very good at bowling I’m impressed.” Wanda pulled you over to her and made you straddle her lap “I’m glad that’s my goal when I’m around you.” You threw your arms around her neck “are you going soft on me Maximoff?” She bit her lip and shook her head “Maybe, maybe not.” as you were rubbing the nape of her neck, you saw her eyes running all over your face taking in all your features. When they very quickly darted and stuck on something behind you.

You stopped your movements and mumbled, “you alright Wands?” She nodded out of the corner of her eye she saw a man….well what she considered a boy making his way over to the both of you and she muttered “are you okay if I kiss you right now?” you looked at her and grinned you replied softly “yeah.” She grabbed your blouse and pulled you closer to her as she put her arms around your waist and her hands subtly on the top of your ass and started kissing you. As your eyes were closed she opened hers and looked at him as he was stood there staring at you still, so she hastily stuck her middle finger up at him. He slowly started walking off she smirked to herself and started slowing down the kiss.

You pulled away and placed your forehead against hers and rubbed your noses together and gave her a quick peck, “Wanna start heading home Maximoff?” Wanda nodded and stood up as you put your jackets back on before you could walk away Wanda grabbed your arm and pulled you back into her “get on my back we’re walking and you are staying on my back the whole way to dorms.” You laughed and stared at her “Wanda you can’t be serious, you can’t keep me on your back for that long.” She stared at you and raised an eyebrow “can’t I?” you both smirked and she threw you onto her back and you immediately started screaming as she ran “WANDA SLOW DOWN!”

As she was stopping outside of your dorm building she slowed down too late and hit you against the door and you playfully slapped her arm “Wanda Maximoff how dare you end our first date by slapping me into a door.” You jump down off her back and held her hands “but genuinely Wanda thank you for this date I loved it.” Wanda leaned against the door of your building as her eyes softened as you rubbed your thumb over her hand. “Y’know I don’t usually kiss on a first date but I’ve made an exception.” She looked at you with wide eyes “b...but why?” You bit your lip “if you don’t want the exception I’ll withdraw it Maximoff.” you slowly started moving backwards and she ran over to you and grabbed you “no no no no I want to be the exception….please Y/n.”

You smirked and nodded “okay Maximoff.” You placed your hands on the back of her neck and pulled her in. This kiss between the two of you was different from any of the other kisses shared tonight, it was very slow and passionate as if Wanda was making sure to memorise every piece of you. You both hummed against the kiss and rubbed the back of her neck. Wanda pulled back as her eyes fluttered open as she leaned in and gave you another few pecks “go in and get some sleep Y/L/n you’ve had a pretty long day. Can and will I be seeing you more often now Y/n?” You looked up at her slightly shocked and nodded hastily “of course you haven’t seen the last of me yet Maximoff.”

Wanda slowly walked backwards as she saw you walk inside and up the stairs. She spun back around and started walking back to her place. She took off running jumped and decided to click her heels together.

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[mishasminions]

The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)

15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.

[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]

First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.

If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.

Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.

Never happened.

They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15. 

If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.

Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.

[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).

I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.

But now, they’ve chosen to define it.

After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.

Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.

They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.

And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.

But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.

Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.

And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.

Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.

It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.

You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.

And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,

But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.

No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.

SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO

There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.

First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:

So, let’s start with

ENDING HORRIBLY

In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.

Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.

Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.

So what we get is:

Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.

Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.

Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.

Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.

His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.

Sam also gets a dog. As usual.

I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.

Anyway, onto the next possible ending

ENDING SPECTACULARLY

In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)

Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)

Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.

This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.

And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)

Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.

So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”

So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.

And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.

Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.

Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.

So here’s what we can get out of it:

With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.

So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.

Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.

Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.

But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.

Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.

So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.

They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.

Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.

(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)

Anyway...

I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.

But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”

If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.

Here’s to hoping 🤡

[bxngchxn]

Elevated || h.js

pairing: jisung x female!reader

wc: 2.85k 

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, college!skz

warnings: explicit content, fingering (f recieving)

description: stuck in an elevator with the cute boy from science class? you’re curious as to how the situation will escalate.

a/n: i am so sorry i said i’d post this last night and i never did but i am here to make it up to you (also some other works coming soon! keep a look out)

send me an ask if you’d like to be on the tag list!

this is a work of fiction and not meant for anyone under the age of 18

You really hate Mondays.

They’re always the longest, and for some reason things happen to go incredibly wrong on the first day of the week. Always.

Waking up and realizing you only have 10 minutes to get dressed and get to class, running across campus seems to be the only option if you want to make it there on time. The professor is strict, and won’t let you in even if you’re only a minute late to class.

You ignore the weird looks you get from students as you sprint across campus, just wanting to make sure today doesn’t get any worse.

The door to your classroom is already shut, and you know that if you try to walk in now, you’re going to be yelled at by the professor and kicked out anyway. It’s not a surprise to you, with the morning you’ve had, you kind of expected things to continue downhill.

Now having some extra time to kill, you head to the school cafe for a cup of (desperately needed) coffee, and then the library for some extra studying for your anatomy class that you’re going to walk into within the next hour and a half. It was your hardest class, and easily the most stressful one as well.

Luckily, your study session went uninterrupted and with no hiccups. Looking at your watch and realizing you need to get moving, you stand up from your spot at the library table only for a student walking by to knock into you, spilling your remaining coffee on your shirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you ask in your head, telling the girl who ran into you that it was fine, and that you’re okay once she started apologizing profusely. Of course, now not only are you running late again, but you have a giant coffee stain on your shirt.

“Are you alright?” You hear someone chuckle next to you, and you look to your left and see Han Jisung, looking at you with concern but also a slight bit of humor in his eyes. 

You’ve spoken to him a few times, the two of you sharing your anatomy class. He’s cute, you think, with his bright smile and energetic attitude. You also had a few mutual friends, Seungmin and Changbin, so you had heard more about him than you’ve actually spoken to him.

“Yeah, Jisung, I’m just fine. Thank you for asking,” you quip back, and he arches an eyebrow at you out of curiosity.

“Seems like someone rolled out the wrong side of the bed today,” he says, and it makes you pout. “What makes you say that?” you say while looking away from him grumpily. “No reason, just saw you sprinting through campus out the window this morning, plus you’re like..covered in coffee” he says nonchalantly, and it makes you want to smack him. You both need to get to class though, and the thought makes you groan. “Ugh there’s no way I’ll be able to get to my apartment and change in time..” you say to yourself, looking down at the giant coffee stain on your shirt.

“Here,” Jisung says, and you look up to see him taking off his hoodie and handing it to you. “Jisung I can’t, it’s really okay I’ll just change after class,” you tell him. He shakes his head, and shoves the hoodie into your hands. “I don’t want you to have to sit through class like that,” he says. You slip the hoodie on over your shirt, relishing in the scent of his cologne and how it makes your head spin just a little bit.

Not wanting the coffee to stain the inside of Jisung’s hoodie, you quickly maneuver your arms inside the oversized piece of clothing, and take your shirt off while making sure Jisung’s hoodie still covers you. Pulling your coffee stained shirt out from the neck hole of the hoodie, you look at Jisung who is staring at you with wide eyes. Before you can laugh at his state of shock, Jisung speaks up. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late!” He says, making his way towards the library exit.

You have no other choice but to follow him because he’s right, class is going to start and you’re not even in the science building. He notices you lingering behind and grabs your hand, leaving you completely shocked as he decides to take off once he steps foot outside, with you in tow. You try to keep up with him, stumbling over your feet while yelling at him to slow down, although it seems like he isn’t going to.

You make it inside the science building and book it up the stairs, praying that you’re not late. Seems as this time, luck is on your side. You and Jisung make it inside the classroom not thirty seconds before the professor does. The two of you exchange victory smiles, still catching your breath while the professor starts the lecture.

You tried to stay focused, but your eyes continued to wander towards Jisung every now and again. He managed to sit right where the sun was shining through the windows, and to put it quite frankly, his beauty was distracting. His tan skin seemed to be glowing, and he would bite his lip in concentration every now and again as he copied the notes from the board. Something about the way his lips looked made you want them against your own, and you were taken aback by your thoughts. You hadn’t even had a real conversation with him until two hours ago, and now you were thinking about kissing him? What is this feeling?

Your eyes move from focusing on his lips to his hands, watching the way they move as he takes notes. You can’t help but imagine what those hands would feel like on your body. His hoodie was warm enough, but you were sure his hands were something else.

You hear Jisung laugh quietly, and your eyes shoot up from their current focus to realize that Jisung had caught you staring at his hands. Your cheeks flush a bright red, and you turn your head back to the front of the classroom, hoping he’ll ignore it later.

“Well, thank god my classes are done for the day,” you say once you realize Jisung is waiting for you after lecture is over. Your cheeks are still a little pink, and you’re just waiting for the boy to make a joke about your obvious staring. Jisung laughs, too, and the sound makes you feel a little lighter. “Yeah I know right? Especially since the weather is getting cooler and I seem to have lost a hoodie,” he quips, and you playfully smack him on the arm. The playful smirk on his face sets something off inside of you, but you try and ignore it as much as possible.

“I told you I didn’t need it!” you say, and he shakes his head. “It’s alright, you don’t need to worry about it,” He insists, but it still doesn’t sit right with you. “No, no I feel bad. Here, come to my place really quick? I’ll change out of this and throw my shirt in the wash so you can have this back,” you ask him. “Well, I think I have some time...” he says playfully. You roll your eyes and lead him in the direction of your apartment building.

On the walk to your apartment, you get to talk to Jisung more than you ever have before.You definitely regret not getting to know him sooner. The stories you’ve heard about him definitely don’t do him justice, either. He’s really quick witted-- able to make you laugh harder than you’ve laughed in awhile. Pair that with his soft brown eyes and his bright smile, he’s basically a knock out.

Once you reach your building, Jisung opens the door for you and it just adds to the tiny feelings you could sense growing in your stomach for this boy. You walk up to the elevator and press the call button, and the presence of Jisung behind you waiting for the elevator makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He was really, really close to you, and you could feel his warmth radiating off of him. Not to mention you were still wearing his hoodie, the smell of his cologne fogging your senses.

The doors open, and you step inside first, turning around to press the button to head to the 9th floor. Jisung follows, standing next to you and leaning against the rail behind him. It’s quiet, but comfortable.

That is, until you hear a weird noise coming from the elevator.

You look up at Jisung to see if he heard it too, and the way his grip tightens on the bar behind him doesn’t go unnoticed by you. The elevator shakes, slightly, and out of reflex you move to grab onto Jisung. His arm goes around your waist, pushing you to him while keeping a hand on the bar holding him steady. Just like you thought, the elevator shakes more strongly and then comes to a stop. The lights go off for a moment, but the backup lights come on almost immediately, bathing the small space in a soft, dull light.

You let go of the breath you were holding once you’re sure the elevator isn’t going to plummet 7 stories. Jisung feels you relax in his hold, and moves away slightly to look at you. “Are you okay?” He asks you for the second time today, except this time his voice is very clearly concerned. “Yes, I’m fine. What happened? How are we gonna get out of here?” You say, checking your phone and realizing you don’t have any cell service.

Jisung steps away from you, letting his arm fall from your waist. You miss the feeling of protection, but watch him anyway as he makes his way over to the elevator door. Taking a look through the gap, you hear Jisung mutter some curses under his breath. “Looks like we’re stuck between floors, which is why your phone isn’t working,” he says, trying to further inspect the situation.

“So what do we do then? Sit here and wait for someone to come save us?” You ask, eyes wide. He shrugs, and turns back to the door. “Hey! Can anyone hear us? We’re trapped in the elevator!” He shouts, and it’s quiet for a moment before a stranger’s voice is heard from a few feet above you.

“We heard the rattling of the elevator! We’ve called maintenance and fire, but they said it’s going to be about 20 minutes until they can get here. We hope you’re okay!” The voice says. Jisung nods his head and yells a thank you to the stranger before making his way back towards you in the small elevator.

You’re happy to know that help is on the way, but what if something happens before they get there? What if the elevator -does- decide to fall before they can get there? You don’t want to live out your final moments in your college apartment’s elevator.

You start to freak out a little bit, and Jisung can sense it. “We’re gonna be okay, you know that right? Help is on the way,” he says, and moves to take a seat on the floor. You join him, hoping it will calm your nerves even just a little. “Yeah, I just hate elevators..” you say, and he doesn’t answer you. You want to say the quiet is calming, but you can’t help the anxiety you feel in the pit of your stomach. You start picking at the carpet of the elevator out of nervousness, and Jisung takes notice.

He scoots a little closer to you and grabs your hand, the size difference of his hands compared to yours is almost baffling. You feel that blush rise up again, reminded of what happened in class earlier. Jisung is playing with your fingers absentmindedly, both of his hands grabbing at them and lightly pulling them in different directions, the pad of his thumbs smoothing over the back of your palm. You can’t look at him, too embarrassed for getting worked up at the gesture.

It seems like God is out to get you today, because Jisung laughs that teasing laugh of his again, and this time a finger under your chin brings your head up to make eye contact with him.

“Y’know, I was going to let it go earlier, but now I don’t think I can..You seem to be pretty fascinated with my hands, huh baby doll?” He asks confidently, and the tone of his voice makes you want to jump down the elevator shaft out of shyness. The new pet name brings those same feelings back to your stomach, and you’re at a loss for words. Jisung takes notice of this, and his smile turns from playful to something a little more serious.

‘Awe now why are you getting shy? You sure weren’t when you were checking me out in lecture earlier,” Jisung says, his tone condescending as he moves closer to you. “I promise, Y/N, I’m not going to bite. I mean, not unless you want me to,” he whispers. He’s not even an inch away from your face, and now you can’t seem to break eye contact with him. His hand moves from your jaw to the back of your neck. “If you don’t want this, you need to tell me..” he insists, but you don’t even need to think twice. “I want it. I want you.” you say quietly, and that’s enough for him to close the distance and pull you on top of him.

Being seated on Han Jisung’s lap is nothing short of an out of body experience. His lips are soft against yours, nipping at your bottom lip and asking for entrance which you gladly grant him. The kiss is fast and passionate and full of tongues but neither of you seem to care. You can’t think of anything except that you were right; the feeling of his hands roaming your body is better than you could’ve imagined. By now your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling slightly every now and again and listening to the beautiful sounds of Jisung groaning against your lips.

“You are absolutely gorgeous,” he says, his fingers trailing to the button of your jeans. You busy yourself with moving your hands underneath his tshirt, his skin warm and soft under your fingers. You can feel the ridges of abs that you didn’t know existed, and as Jisung is whispering sweet nothings into your ear, you whine at the sensation of his fingers that have found their way into your underwear.

“You look so pretty like this for me,” Jisung continues, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit in slow circles as you whine at him. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to control myself the moment you slipped this damn hoodie on. You look so small, baby.”

You’re sure that you’re going crazy the more that Jisung talks to you. In order to preserve even the tiniest bit of your sanity, you connect your lips to his once more. You hear him chuckle into the kiss, Jisung sensing your urgency as you grind down onto his fingers with a newfound energy.

“You really like my hands that much, huh? Gonna get off just on my fingers baby?” He asks once again, this time inserting a finger into your core. You moan at the new sensation, but Jisung isn’t having it. “Words, baby. Tell me how you’re feeling,” He orders, and something about his tone sends you up a wall. “S-so good Jisung.. I.. fuck,” you breathe out.

Jisung snaps back to reality for a moment and remembers: You’re on a time crunch. Maintenance could get the elevator back up and running at any moment. He adds another finger inside of you and quickens his pace at the same time. The speed has you reeling, the knot in your stomach tight but not quite ready to snap.

“I need you to cum for me baby, someone could walk in any minute. We don’t need anyone else seeing how much of a slut you are for my fingers alone, now do we? Or would you like that?” He asks, and the idea has you clenching around him. Jisung senses this, and laughs. “Something to keep in mind for another time,” he says to himself. You bury that comment at the back of your mind, focusing on the pleasure that’s rising in your core.

Once Jisung starts rubbing harsh circles on your clit, the combination of that and his fingers inside you has you arching your back. To Jisung, you are the most ethereal being on the planet right now; the soft light of the elevator highlighting your features, making you look oh so beautiful and almost unreal as your orgasm washes over you.

Jisung helps you ride out your high, your hips slowly coming to a stop as you begin to catch your breath. “Th-thank you, Jisung..” you say quietly, moving your hair out of your face. “Trust me, baby doll. The pleasure was all mine,” he chimes, and a small laugh leaves your lips as you finally gain your composure once again.

The two of you stay sitting like that for a few minutes, basking in the glow of this new found relationship until you hear voices a few feet above you again. “Hello? Are you alright in there? This is the fire department, we’re going to get you out of there, don’t worry.” The faint voice says. You both sigh in relief, Jisung’s arms falling around your waist once again.

It doesn’t take long for the elevator doors to be opened, and you’re both pulled up by the firemen who came to your rescue.

Once safe and sound, it doesn’t take long for you to pull Jisung into your apartment to make up for something very, very important, either.

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

hey, sweetie! I came across your account and found your stories are utterly amazing! I can't get enough re-reading all over again; it's very very great! I was hoping if I could make a req? If only you don't mind!

Can you do the marauders (yes, prongs moony and padfoot) smut where they accidentally use degrading kink but the reader is hurt and she ended up crying because it makes her very insecure because she's nothing but just a fuck toy? I don't hate the idea of such kink but I'm not fond of being degraded even though it doesn't mean any harm. maybe they will praise her and cuddle until she's completely calm down. i really like fluff ending❤ thanks!

pairing(s): james potter x remus lupin x sirius black x reader (foursome) 

warning(s): 18+, foursome, double penetration, oral (male receiving), anal, degradation, praise, lots of cum, cute cuddles 

word count: 1.9k

a/n: oh my god. when i got this request i literally had to pause and reread it so many times because it sent me spiraling. too good. thank you for this because i know exactly what i’ll be daydreaming about for the next week! i’m the same way about degradation (i don’t want it unless i’m really in the mood) so i can totally relate. i just hope i did it justice. enjoy! 

“C’mon, puppy, sit right here like a good girl,” Sirius instructed, giving a pointed nod to his erect cock. He was lounging back on his bed, one hand propped behind his head, his raven hair wrapped up in a messy bun. He looked like a Greek God and he didn’t even have to try. 

You made your way up the bed, straddling his waist and hovering your core above him. You were already dripping wet with the anticipation of what these boys were about to do to you. You weren’t sure how it escalated to this point, but here you were. 

You were hovered above Sirius’ cock, Remus making his way up the bed behind you, and James was off to the side, stroking his cock and content with waiting until you were ready to take it. The night you four had planned was triple penetration to the ultimate proportions. 

You sunk down onto Sirius’ cock, feeling him stretch you and fill you so beautifully as he always did. All of their cocks were amazing, but Sirius’ was the perfect amount of thickness that you needed. 

“Fuck, you never stop being tight no matter how much we stretch you. Just the perfect little hole for us,” Sirius said roughly, his large hands coming to grip your hips and grind you down onto him, getting you settled on his cock. 

Remus was the next one with his hands on you, pushing you forward onto Sirius’ chest until you were completely exposed to him. He could see the spot where Sirius was entering your body, stretching you out completely, and he could see exactly where his own cock would be going - right into your tightest hole, already being stretched with a plug. 

He worked it out gently, all three of them listening to you whimper into Sirius’ neck as he pushed and pulled, teasing you, until he finally removed it. 

“That’s a good girl. Stay just like that and quiet to be our little toy,” James commented, reaching over to brush some hair out of your face. You keened at the attention, but his choice of words made you flush red with embarrassment. You knew logically you were more than just a hole or a toy for them, but hearing it made you question what their intentions were nonetheless. 

Next thing you knew, you could feel Remus’ cock at your entrance, slowly pushing in. It wasn’t as bad as you had expected, the boys had prepped you well, but the additional stretch and sting made you wince lightly despite your moan. 

Remus roughly grabbed your arms and pulled you back so your back hit his chest harshly as he bottomed out inside of you. You were now successfully taking both of their cocks which made your head spin with arousal, but his words sent you spiralling. 

“Oh don’t act like you’re in pain. That won’t work with us. We know you're just a filthy slut so you’ll take it like one,” Remus said, beginning to slowly roll his hips against your ass, forcing you to grind on Sirius’ cock in return. 

Regardless of how his words made you feel, you couldn’t stop the moan from falling out of your mouth, effectively proving him right. When you looked down at Sirius, you knew he could see the tears beginning to form in your eyes, but he disregarded it to begin thrusting up into you, your head falling back onto Remus’ shoulders. 

“Fuck she feels so good,” Sirius moaned. “Prongs, she’s ready for you,” he said, looking over to his messy haired friend. 

Once that was said, Remus released your arms and you had to flail to stay upright, clutching Sirius’s shoulder. You weren’t there for long before James grabbed a chuck of your hair from the root and pulled you down sideways, your mouth lining up with his cock. 

“Open,” was all he said, treating you indifferently. Something you were not used to and not a fan of. You did what he asked regardless though, hoping if you proved that you were good their attitudes would change. 

Once your mouth engulfed James, all three of them let out a moan in sync, getting off on the fact that all of them were inside of you at the same time. 

“Look at her,” Remus rumbled out, “just a filthy fucking whore taking all of us.” 

You whined around James’ cock in protest, but the vibration only made him moan and pull your head in further, your nose now flush up against his skin. A tear slipped down your face, both because of the urge to gag around James’ cock and because of their unexpected treatment of you. Sure they had degraded you before, but never this much, never all of them at once, and always mixed with praise. This was different and you didn’t like it. 

“Look at her,” James started with a breathless laugh, continuing to fuck your throat raw, “she’s even crying for it like the pathetic slut she is.” 

That’s what did it. That’s what had you pulling off of James with a sob, struggling for breath with tears pouring down your face. “Stop, please stop,” you begged quietly, praying that one of them believed you. 

Thinking back, you were all stupid to never have a safeword for these situations but nothing like this had ever come up before. They were always so good with reading you, knowing exactly what you needed. You weren’t sure what went wrong this time. 

Thankfully, James didn’t go to reach for you again and Sirius and Remus immediately stopped giving you the delicious friction they had been providing inside of you to turn towards your face. 

You collapsed against Sirius’ chest in a fit of sobs and he was quick to wrap his arms around you and pull you close. You could practically feel the panicked looks being passed between them, but they were all quick to jump into action. Remus was running his hand along your back, but he never pulled out, they knew how much you hated them pulling out before you were ready. You felt the bed dip and James sat down at Sirius’ side, a hand coming up to brush through your tangled hair. 

“What happened, love? What’s wrong?” Sirius asked softly, his lips brushing against your neck. 

“Too mean,” you whimpered out, not looking up at any of them. 

“We were being too mean to our sweet girl? You want us to be nice while you’re our good girl?” Remus asking, lips brushing your shoulder blade before he pressed a gentle kiss on your skin. 

“Please,” you said with a final shaky breath, looking up at the boys while your tears dried. 

“You sure you want to keep going?” James asked gently, his thumb coming up to brush the tears off of your face. 

“Please. Please, it felt so good,” you begging shamelessly, grinding down on Sirius and Remus’ cock for good measure, just to prove how much you wanted to keep going. 

“Fuck, okay okay,” Remus said, choking on a laugh when he felt how tight you were against him all over again. 

“Ride us just like that pretty girl. You’ve been so good for us all night. Letting us fuck you and strecth you like this. So good,” Sirius mused, really laying it on thick in his attempt to rectify his mistakes as he grabbed your hips harshly, overwhelmed with how tight you were. 

“You wanna use your mouth again, love? Or just your hand?” James asked, gently turning your face to his using a knuckle. 

You didn’t even reply, just bent over sideways once more and opened your mouth, tongue out. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” James said with a chuckle, gently working your mouth back onto his cock until he was lodged down your throat. 

They never stopped the rough treatment, but the words they were saying were affecting you so much differently now. Rather than making you question yourself and your place with them, they were making you feel so good and loved and safe. 

The way they were ravishing your body made you feel heavenly. The way Remus and and Sirius’ cocks were dragging in and out of you made your head spin and your core tighten, dangling on the edge just waiting to be tossed over. James’ cock down your throat gave you a fraction of power over at least one of them, knowing all of his pleasure was coming from your body. Truly, all of their pleasure was, but you were working hard for James. 

“Fuck you feel like a vice,” Remus groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he rolled his hips against you in a steady pace. You could feel the way him and Sirius’ cocks were dragging past each other through the thin walls inside your body, making you tremble with the thought of being so full of them. They were practically splitting you open, but oh what a way to go. “Let go for us, Y/N. Fuck, I can feel how close you are.” 

It didn’t take long after that. One, two, three more pumps from each of them and you were spiralling over the edge and into your release. You pulled away from James to let out your loud cry of relief and he readily took over to work his own cock, aiming it directly at your open mouth. In the rush of your release, you could feel yourself being filled with cum in all your holes. Warm rope after rope of cum gushed into your core and your mouth, completely filling you up from all angles. 

Being that full of their cum made you tremble, but you finally worked your way down from the clouds and collapsed against Sirius’ chest once more. 

It took all of you a minute to even feel coherent, but finally Remus was pulling out of you slowly. You could feel a rush of cum leave your body and trail down your thighs and onto the bed. You weren’t even sure whose bed you were on anymore. You whimpered at the feeling, both the unsatisfactory feeling of misplaced cum and the feeling of being empty after so long. 

Sirius went to pull out next, but you shook your head aggressively, needing to feel close to one of them after all of that. “Please don’t,” you begged softly, unable to give him a reason at the moment. You were a mixture of overwhelmed and still in a comedown, you just needed to be close. 

“Alright, don’t worry. You can stay here as long as you’d like puppy,” Sirius told you, shifting so the both of you were laying on your sides, getting you comfortable on the bed beside him. James crawled into the bed behind you, and Remus moved to relax against the headboard, pulling your feet into his lap to lightly massage them, relaxing you further. 

“You did so good for us tonight, love,” James said, moving his body so his chest was against you back, boxing you in. “We didn’t mean to upset you at all. You’re always good for us. You know that, right?” 

“I know. It was just too much in the moment,” you tried your best to explain. 

“We’ll talk about it later, yeah? We should have a word for if that happens again,” Remus suggested, quick to bring up what you had already been thinking about. You gave a small nod into Sirius’ neck, which he relayed to the boys. 

“Get some rest, pup. We’ll be right here when you wake up,” Sirius told you, placing a kiss on your forehead before moving to pull a blanket over the both of you, never pulling out once just as you wanted. 

Because you always got what you wanted from your boys. 

[mrsalwayswrite]

Rage Like Ice (Sihtric x Reader)

This is my first time writing Sihtric, so let me know what y’all think!

Warnings: assault, attempted strangulation, aftermath of assault (I promise the assault itself is only brief)

Words:2,100

Tag List: @happyveday​ @evelynshelby​

  Thyra dabbed away the blood dripping from your split lip. You could see her wanting to say something but soon as she opened her mouth, something would flicker in her eyes and she would snap her mouth shut. 

 "Thyra… I am glad it was me. We don't need Beocca committing murder." You tried to both tease and soothe, even as you winced after you attempted to smile. 

 She smiled faintly but you could tell it was hollow. Her lips moved but her eyes remained sorrowful. "The gods were watching over us." She murmured in her gentle voice. 

 You nodded. Being the only two Dane women in Wintanceaster and both having been saved from different places by Uhtred and his men, you two had bonded. She had become the sister you never had. 

 "Sihtric may kill him though." Her fathomless eyes dropped down to the bruises forming around your throat then back up to meet your own. 

 "Shite. I need to cover it up."

 She stared, eyes trailing over your face and neck. Most likely realizing the improbability of hiding the evidence of the fight. "Let me see what I can do." She dropped the bloodied cloth onto the table next to you, then spun on her heel and walked towards the bedroom without another word. 

 Soon as she was out of sight, you dropped your head into your hands and exhaled like it would dismiss all the tension and frustration rolling around in your gut. Your throat was beginning to ache and talking made it worse, even as you tried to mask the pain. You did not need Thyra heaping anymore guilt onto herself. Especially when it was not her fault. 

 The afternoon had not gone according to plan. King Alfred had summoned Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric to talk about Dane raids. Of course, Beocca tagged along, most likely in an attempt to keep Uhtred in line. Osferth had said something about visiting the church to pray. So while the men were gone, Thyra and you planned on taking a leisurely stroll through the market, getting supplies for a special dinner and working on it together before the men returned. You knew the simple act of making a meal with female company was something she missed from her childhood with her mother, so you tried to do it every time you could. 

 Of course, fate had other plans. 

 On your walk, a Saxon man yelled 'Dane whores' at you two from his seat at a pub. When you two ignored him, arms locked together and you rolled your eyes… apparently that was the wrong action to take. He stumbled out of his seat, not quite drunk but certainly not sober, and followed like a stray cat, hissing and trying to be threatening. 

 What you did not expect was for him to sneak up from behind and shove you forcefully to the ground. It may have been the dismissive look you had given him or how you told him to 'just leave us alone, bastard', but he focused all his anger out on you. He shoved Thyra to the ground also, kicking away her basket, spilling all its content onto the ground. After hitting the ground, you rolled over, Sihtric's training forcing your body to move, to be ready. Before you could move further, the Saxon knelt over you, pinning you beneath him.

 Time blurred before your eyes, unable to vividly recall what happened next.  

 You remembered his hands around your throat, the weight of his body on your hips. You remembered Thyra screaming and trying to beat him off but he shoved her away again. You remembered trying to get him off, lungs shrieking, desperate for air. You remembered your mind demanding, pleading for escape. After all you had survived, after all you had endured… this could not be your end. You remembered in a last-ditch effort, grabbing the dagger you had strapped to your waist and in a Herculean attempt, stabbing him in the thigh with it. 

 Then, you escaped. 

 A crowd formed at the sight of the fight. Two men grabbed your attacker, restraining him as he snarled at you, blood dripping down his thigh. Thyra and you did not wait to see what happened next. She snagged your hand and you two raced back to her home. 

 Now, you could feel your hands shaking. You leaned back in the chair to look at them, laying in your lap. There were some droplets of blood on your skin. Either from you or him, you were not sure. 

 Your dagger was next to you on the table, cleaned off thanks to Thyra. A gift from Sihtric. When he gave it to you, he explained he hoped you never had to use it but wanted you to always have some kind of weapon on your person. Wessex was not Daneland but it still was not entirely safe. 

 This was the first time you had used it. 

 A commotion outside drew your gaze to the door just as it opened and those that you called family spilled in. Beocca led the way into his small home, grumbling and throwing glares at Uhtred and Finan, who were laughing. Osferth came next with a blush on his cheeks. Whatever they were teasing Beocca about, you doubted it was appropriate. Lastly, Sihtric walked in shaking his head. 

 Your heart thudded a rapid tattoo in your chest as your eyes met his. Those eyes that saw so much, that were clever and loyal and oh so trustworthy. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth and with that, the air left your lungs faster than when you had been knocked to the ground. Even after all this time, he still left you breathless and giddy like a young girl with her first crush. 

 Most of all though, he made you feel safe and cherished. 

 Thyra stepped back into the main room, eyes wary and jumping from the men to you and back. She gripped a scarf in her hand but it was too late. 

 When Beocca started talking, you ripped your eyes from Sihtric, dropping your head to stare at your still trembling hands in your lap. 

 "Thyra, dear. Are you alright? We heard there was a fight in the market today."

 Before she could answer Beocca, Finan spoke, throwing himself onto a chair with a cheeky smirk. "Oh aye, we 'eard some fool started a fight with some whores and got stabbed. I'd love to find out who the whores were, perhaps see what other moves they have?" He wiggled his eyebrows making Uhtred chuckle. 

 You could not help sneaking a glance at Thyra, whose own concerned gaze met yours. Was that the story being told by those who witnessed it? 

 Then what you dreaded happened next.

 The sound of footfalls came towards you. You clasped your hands in my lap, hoping to stop the trembling, wishing there was a way to magic the bruises away. It was too late though. He knew. Somehow, he always knew when you were in trouble, or hurting or just needed him. 

 Sihtric stopped, standing right in front of you. You could see his legs and boots but you refused to look up. 

 "Look at me." He said softly, yet the command rang loudly in his words. You shook your head, tears gathering in your eyes. 

 With a tender touch that seemed counterintuitive to his warrior skills, he cupped your chin, lifting it gently. That intense gaze swept over your face, drawing answers without even asking you a question. His thumb touched your split lip, as if confirming what he was seeing was not an illusion. When those dark eyes moved lower, your breath caught in your throat. You witnessed the moment he saw the bruises on your throat. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, his body suddenly tense and wound up like a coil, but his touch remained soft on you.

 All the sounds of those around you vanished as he met your eyes once again. It was just him and you in this moment. 

 "Who did this to you?" 

 You flinched at the ice in his voice. Oh, this was far worse than anger. You knew of the anger that could burn through him, especially in battle. This though… the way frost practically coated his breath, the stillness that covered his body, the dead silence after his question. This was not the fire of anger so easily witnessed in others. No, this went beyond that. This was the icy depths of rage and fury. This was not something that would burn out after a quick fight. No, this lingered until the rage thawed away… only satisfied when the blood debt was paid. 

 He whispered your name, sweeping away a stray tear that escaped from your eye. "Who did this?"

 "Some drunk. It doesn't matter. We got away." You croaked out, your throat suddenly feeling swollen as if words and emotions were stuck there.

 He turned to the side, keeping his hand under your chin, baring your neck for all to see, and looked at Uhtred. "Lord… permission to hunt down this bastard and finish what he started."

 "Sihtric, no…" You whined but he ignored you. 

 Uhtred's eyes narrowed, flickering across your face and neck. "Shouldn't be that hard to hunt the bastard down. He'll be limping from a dagger to the leg."

 "Uhtred, Sihtric, no." Beocca moved to stand in front of the door. "We shall bring this matter before the king. Let him decide justice. You cannot commit murder."

 "It's not murder if I'm stopping him from attempting to kill her again!" Sihtric stated coldly, eyes narrowed, body almost vibrating in rage. "That's protection."

 "Sihtric, please, no." You clawed at him, trying to keep him with you. "Stay with me."

 Finan stood up, hands raised in an unnecessary show of surrender. "We'll find the bastard, Sihtric. We'll deal with him but not when ya eyes are seein' red, aye? Father Beocca and I can go to the king right now. Uhtred and Osferth can find that piece of shite. We won't let this happen again."

 "Please." You tried once again. At this point your voice was no more than a whisper, the dull ache transforming so it felt like someone was rubbing sandpaper against your throat. The adrenaline from earlier had drained and now exhaustion replaced it. All you wanted was for Sihtric to hold you, to stay and not race away on a man hunt for that damn drunk. "Please…. just stay with me."

 The Dane stared at you for several long moments, those dark eyes trailing a heat over your exposed skin. Finally, his hard gaze shifted to look at the men across the room. He gave a single nod, draining the tension in the room. Immediately everyone started moving, either to fulfill their duties or to escape from Sihtric's cold fury. 

 "Thyra, come with me." Beocca said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and escorting her outside. Finan and Osferth slipped out quickly with them. 

 Uhtred moved closer, eyes scanning over you. "Did he harm you anywhere else?"

 "No, lord."

 "We'll take care of this. One way or another." He said, but the last part he directed to Sihtric. You could see the understanding in Uhtred's eyes. If someone put their hands on Gisela like that, he would be out for blood…. and no one would be able to stop him. 

 "Thank you, lord." 

 After Sihtric's comment, Uhtred nodded once more to the pair of you then stormed out of the small home, presumably on his way to hunt down the man that hurt you. 

 Once alone, Sihtric whipped around, his hands cupped your face. The desperate fury and fear no longer hidden away on his face. "No one touches you. No one." He hissed out, a hand lightly trailing down your neck. 

 Many times before he had teasingly told you that the only thing to ever adorn your neck should be his lips. You had even stopped wearing any form of necklace because he would complain that it got in his way. Now seeing the bruises marring his favorite place to lavish his affection on you, you knew this only fueled his blood lust. 

 "I know. You taught me to protect myself and I did." You tried to soothe, your hands gripping the front of his tunic.  

 "I should have been there."

 "No, you were doing your duty. You were with Lord Uhtred." You paused. "This is not your fault."

 His voice dropped to a strained whisper. "I can't lose you."

 "You won't. The gods brought us together, they would not tear us apart like this."

 He pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. With your head against his chest, you could feel the last of his icy rage thawed away as you sank into his embrace. 

 "I swear you're never leaving my side."

 You smiled, burrowing your head further against his chest. "I could think of worse places to be."

[sweetlycreations]

perfect place - n.jaemin

Pairing: na jaemin x female!reader

wc: 1.1k

:jaemin didn’t really have that much faith in fate, but how else was he at the perfect place at the perfect time

piano serenaded him through your home, fainted candles burning followed by the smell of spices wafting through the air. he didn’t know how or when he became so lucky, he always thought that fate wouldn’t come to him despite how hard he wanted it to. 

but then he saw you, his future, his best friend. his wife. 

you seemed to make every day that little warmer, the way you smiled brought him to his knees at any given point. you seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it.

he was always so curious how he was able to fall in love with you, how he was able to be guided to the exact place where you were sitting that day

as he walked through the path of the gardens, jaemin couldn’t help but feel envious of the hidden love stories that he knew surrounded him. he always joked that he didn’t need to fall in love, that he was happy to wait for fate.

as he walked down the footpath a rumble of thunder loomed in the distance, closing his eyes in frustration he hurried further down, he knew there was a small gazebo further down the track, his cousin had gotten married there merely weeks prior. 

the one day jaemin wanted to take out his new camera to get some shots, it had to rain, just his luck.

arriving as the rain began to fall he hid the camera and lenses under his shirt, praying that he would reach the gazebo in enough speed. but upon his arrival he halted, seeming as he wasn’t the only person to get caught in the rain.

on a little mat, surrounded by pencils and some pictures taped to the ground, sat a girl that took his breath away. her hair fell neatly down her back, her fingers lightly danced across the page, by the looks of it she hadn’t noticed his arrival.

upon closer inspection he saw the white in her ears, letting out a small breath he realised she had music playing. she probably hadn’t even noticed that the rain had started.

sitting in the opposite end of the rounded gazebo, he watched the rain fall, it wasn’t heavy but soft, falling like waited tears. it was constant but there wasn’t a harsh feeling, it was oddly comforting. 

he sat going through the pictures he had taken from when the sun was shining, admiring how the colours seemed so real even in the stills.

“oh, hello” a voice broke through the calm of the rain, looking up he made eye contact with a girl that he swore made his heart stop. 

“..hi, sorry i didn’t mean to crash your creative time, the rain just started and I didn’t want to get caught out in it is all” he felt the need to explain that he didn’t mean to disturb you.

he probably sounded like the biggest creep just mumbling on and on about the rain, the rain he was sure that you were now aware of.

“really it’s fine, you can move closer if you like, less risk of getting hit by any,” my god jaemin had never heard a voice as beautiful as yours. it was soft yet melodic, calming but carried strength. 

he had barely spoken to you and he was falling harder than he knew was possible, it was like every dream he had ever had about love at first sight came true in every possibility and boy he was hoping that he never had to see the sun again if it meant being with you.

“you seem lost in your thoughts” you looked at him with the kindest eyes, he felt his lips lift with every passing syllable, 

“slightly, is this your work? the pictures taped to the ground” shifting the focus from him to your art seemed to work wonders, you smile began to grow

“mmmhmm, I was just passing sometime, practicing shadings and such, although I wasn’t able to find a reference photo I really wanted” the pout growing made jaemin furrow his brows, looking troubled even in the slightest way wasn’t something he was fond of seeing on your face

“it looks beautiful regardless, if you don’t mind me asking what kind of photo did you want?”

he watched as you looked out into the rain, “there’s a flower bed, next to a statue at the end of the path, it’s got the most beautiful colours and I’ve never been able to get a picture that does it justice”

smiling to himself, he looked down at the current photo he had showing on preview screen, “do you mean like this?”

as he handed you his camera he let out a breathy laugh as your face lit up, “that’s exactly what I meant... do you mind if I take a quick photo on my phone, so I can reference it?”

jaemin looked out to the sky, the rain certainly wasn’t easing anytime soon, if anything the clouds grew darker, looking at you and then laying on the ground with an arm behind his head 

“how about this, you can just use my camera so you can see the image clearly - it doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere soon. but, you owe me” as he opened one eye he could see the way you looked down at him, god he could look into your eyes for eternity. 

“deal”

as an hour turned into two jaemin laid on the ground, listening to the rain fall onto the roof and your pencils scratching the paper in front of you, he didn’t know when he fell asleep but he felt your hand lightly shaking him back to reality.

“here, thankyou for that. you know I never got your name, I’m [name]”

taking his camera back he turned it off, noticing the low battery, “jaemin, it’s a pleasure”

as he sat up, subconsciously moving closer to your side, you both welcomed the new silence between you, you broke the silence as you turned to face him

“what is your part of the deal?” turning his head he smiled again, he felt like he was constantly smiling at you

“don’t worry about it” you huffed and completely turned your body towards him, “come on jaemin... you let me use your photo, trusted me with your camera”

he let out a laugh, “how do you know it won’t be a weird request then? you’re willing to trust me?”

“..I am” 

closing his eyes he thought of the perfect thing, “dance with me”

letting out your own laugh you gave him a look of doubt, “a dance? really?”

nodding his head, he pulled you to stand with him, “I would like to have a dance with the pretty artist, here in the rain. do you still trust me?”

walking further from the mat that the two of you had migrated on, you held out your hand, “play a song then”

he came out of his daydream as he heard the familiar melody flow through the home, quietly he made his way to your side,

“dance with me?”

[paula-of-christ]

My conversion story

This is extremely a long time coming. People have been asking for my full conversion story for a long, long, l o n g time. So here it is! Been sitting in my drafts and I finally finished it! I still consider myself on my “conversion” journey even now as a devout Catholic, because there is always so much more to learn and so much closer to God that I can grow and so much more virtue in which to receive. But, I hope this gives a good outline for you all and I will be making a FAQ page soon for this as well as other questions people often have about myself!

Major Trigger Warning for mentions of depression and suicide. It is after the cut and in italics so that you can scroll past if you want to read the rest of it.

So I grew up Catholic, not really devout, but I went to Church every Sunday and every holy day. Got all the sacraments and such (except confirmation because that is when I'm 16). So in middle school I was kind of angry at the Church for various reasons, not so much blaming God as I'm blaming the Church. But then my dad ended up getting really sick with cancer. Right before this I had started getting super into Greek mythos and I started relying on that instead of God. I still was going to church every Sunday because that's what my family did and I was going to religious education, but I was actively finding ways in which I thought the Church was wrong. As my dad's cancer developed I was pretty much just an angry pre-teen that never had a strong basis of what it meant to be Catholic. And right after I started high school my dad ended up passing away. For about a year and a half after that I tried relying on my Greek paganism and some Wiccan things to combat the depression. And I was still angry at God because I felt like He abandoned me. So I was writing my suicide letter and I wrote one to my mom but while I was writing it I was praying for something to happen to stop me. And I wasn't really sure who I was praying to but I knew my mom still had faith so God was kind of on my mind.I ended up (clearly) not committing suicide that day and being able to continue on to go to a youth retreat that summer. At that point in my life I had already started coming back to the church, but was still convinced that you could believe anything and still go to your respective "heaven". And I was in a bad relationship at the time (which contributed to the depression) and just a bunch of other stuff that inhibited me from going to God. After that first retreat I started praying and reading the bible every day. And I went on another two retreats in the fall. One a youth one and another a women's day-retreat. And between that and it starting to be my junior year, so my catechism classes were geared towards confirmation, I was really starting to become comfortable with the notion of being "Catholic" and having a faith life outside of my family, which was never particularly strong. 

But let’s go back again a few years to my catechism classes from middle school through high school. I was the Problem Child that looked like I would never be Catholic and after confirmation just stop going to Mass. At class I either didn’t care enough to pay attention and when I did pay attention I gave my teachers crap at every turn, asking why and debating it. I actually made a nun/someone who worked with nuns tell my youth director she was never going to come back to talk to us because I didn’t back down on my argument that she never made a real point during her whole big speech she had about environmental justice (a talk that was supposed to be about social justice according to Catholic Social Teaching).

This trend continued until I was about 15-1/2. My first real boyfriend had broken up with me, I was still trying to sort out on my own the trauma of my father having passed, and there was no fulfillment in paganism. I would read about how we personally have all this power and it’s in ourselves and we just need to ask for help in unlocking it through spells and rituals to these pagan gods, yet no matter what I did I could never get out of it. I was starting to turn towards Christ more and started watching A.D. The Bible Continues with my mom and got hooked, but I wasn’t really sure about the whole “only God” thing.

I felt hopeless and I wrote a letter, I don’t even know where it went I think my teacher had taken it, and I begged God that if He would save me, prove to me that He was real, I wouldn’t ever try to kill myself again. I had gone over to the windowsill of my classroom (3rd story) and was going to jump out of it. It was during class but no one ever batted an eye about someone sitting up on the heaters next to the window because it got warm in there and we were allowed to sit up there. The class was taking a test and right before I was going to do it, a boy that I hardly talked to, and that I didn’t talk to after that, pulled me down and just bear-hugged me.

Somehow, by the grace of God, word didn’t get out that it was me that had tried to kill myself. It was a small school and stuff like that traveled fast but it was never something that anyone except my own friends and the people in that class knew was me.

I started watching AD The Bible Continues, which seems like something silly to have had such a great affect on me, but it really did. I started reading Acts of the Apostles after that and was moved by the way that the Apostles cared so much for Christ. I was getting really close with my youth group, which in high school split between guys and girls (which was a serious blessing) and my teacher, while she didn’t have all the answers, was always super patient and kind to me as well as charitable and always answered my questions to the best of her ability. Even when it was slightly off topic. A big part of why I converted was because of the apologetics. I wanted to know the answers to my questions so I started looking for them.

That summer I started an anti-depressant and went on my first youth trip, because I had to for youth group. I attended Steubenville Midwest (I think that’s what it was called then) in Minnesota, and was hooked on monotheism from there. I went to confession for the first time pretty much since I had my first Reconciliation. It was freeing, but I knew the next year I would be preparing for Confirmation and I didn’t want to make a choice about Catholicism until I was sure. I knew God made me feel good but I started researching Islam and Judaism. I think if I had learned more about Orthodox Judaism I would have had a harder time discerning but as it stood I only really knew about Reformed and Conservative Jews so that left my mind pretty quickly. I was enthralled with a lot of Islam’s teachings but when I researched further and got a Quran it just didn’t make sense. The teachings from one part were in complete contradiction to other parts, as well as their teachings about the dignity and worth of women. God, who created humans in His image, would have no reason to make women worth less than men in any capacity. So that ended up getting struck out.

Then that fall I went to NCYC 2015. It was amazing, and that is where I met the Salesian sisters and talking with them and fully realized my call to religious life. When I was little I used to always say that I wanted to be like the Virgin Mary when I grew up, and now, discerning with the cloister I am now looking in to, I really feel like that want is being fulfilled. God speaks His truth through His little ones and I feel like from that time I’ve come full circle. Back into the embrace of God as my Creator and Father and Comforter, like a little child going to their parent not only in times of distress, but in times of joy and wonder as well.

And of course, a huge thank you to so many faithful Catholics here on tumblr, that have helped my journey through the years. So many of whom are no longer with us here but if you don’t mind I will tag a few of you that are truly in my heart forever. @keepcatholic @captainvatican (and co, I can’t remember everyone’s urls rip) @sonia-marmeladova @tradcatmaria  and gosh when I think about it, so many that have helped me with my theology over the years are just no longer on tumblr and I haven’t been able to contact for years.

Alas, that is the last of my very long, very long awaited, conversion story. Thank you thank you to all that have asked! And I hope this can help many that come to my blog.

[thrndlngs]

@the-fandoms-georgie

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷     A CURSE, natasha romanoff.

pairing: natasha romanoff x gn!asgardian!reader. genre: drabble with HELLA ANGST. warnings: character death + endgame spoilers. a/n: set in endgame. this made me cry lol. hopefully you guys enjoy it. i took a different approach to this so, hopefully it’s still enjoyable! also, reader is the asgardian god/dess of war :p  inspo: poem + another love (slowed down) by tom odell.

                         12 HOURS PRIOR.

     "SO YOU’RE GOING BACK TO ASGARD, HUH?” natasha asked as she approached you, offering a peanut butter sandwich as she straddles your lap while taking a bite of her own peanut butter sandwich. you decline it, which only makes her shrug her shoulders and continue to take a bite out of both before snaking her arms around your neck.

   “you’re doing the thing again.” 

   “i’m not doing the thing again.”

   “yes you are! you’re doing the ‘i’m a big bad asgardian whose forming a strategic plan on how to conquer a planet’ face.” she teases, mimicking said facial expression as you roll your eyes (almost) half tempted to throw her onto the couch you were sitting on. you know, for dramatics. 

   “just worried that someone will spot us. you know, with thor and i’s status and the talking, uh,” you trail off, canting your head a bit as natasha corrects you with an infectious laugh. “a raccoon.”

   “yeah, a raccoon. i could only hope that everything goes according to plan and that we manage to retrieve the Aether.”

   “you’re a horrible liar.” 

   “gods do not lie.” 

   “there’s a first time for everything honey.” 

   it’s your turn to laugh now, hands resting at the small of her back as you take in a breath. leave it to natasha to see right through you. “it will be hard going back.” you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence and natasha doesn’t force you. she only brings her hands to your face to trace soothing circles against your cheeks, offering that reassuring smile that had pulled you from some of your darkest times.

   “ — i know. i could only imagine what it would feel like going back home.” 

   you scoff, lips pursed as you look over her features, mirroring her smile. “you are.” 

   and she doesn’t understand it - not at first. you loved asgard. it was your home. in another lifetime though. you’ve grown to learn that asgard isn’t a place - asgard is it’s people, traditions - the will and strength to continue on in dire stances (kind of like now). but natasha, natasha was your home now. even if she wasn’t a place. she loved you inside and out. she didn’t see the god(dess) of war or the commander. she saw you, for you. the raw product of fighting battles that weren’t yours to begin with. 

   natasha saw you as someone who was forced a blade and told to fight. so maybe, the two of you are one in the same - just weapons to a cause. maybe that’s why she loved you. maybe that’s what attracted her to begin with, the ‘shared life experience’. she doesn’t know what it’s like being someone of your status - but she does know what it’s like to have your childhood stolen.

   and it hits her. you were referring to her. “i’m nothing compared to asgard.” her tone is a bit more serious now. 

   “you’re the liar now.” you tease, quickly stealing a kiss as natasha rolls her eyes. 

   “i’m serious. the way you talk about it—”

   “someone once told me that home is not a place. it’s where you feel safe and loved - it’s something you feel in here,” you poke at the place where her heart is, a childlike grin on your face as natasha rolls her eyes. again. if only the others could see how corny you truly were.

   and now it’s her turn to remain quiet, fingers trailing your tired features as the two of you sat there in silence. it isn’t until you pull at the ends of her hair that she finally says something to you (but it’s not directed at you, she’s just rambling at this point).

   “i’m not - i’m flattered but i can’t.. i just —”

   “baby,” you cut her off, taking your free hand and using it to turn her attention to you, offering her a soft smile as you laughed at her sudden ‘flustered’ expression. it’s amusing the effect you have on her - even after all these years. “you are my home. i feel safe when i’m with you. i am at my happiest when we are together. home is wherever i am with you. i love thor. i loved the king and queen. i loved asgard and my people, but it was never my home. asgard took everything from me and you, natasha, are the one who helped me see that i am more than what odin forced me to be.” 

                        4 HOURS PRIOR.

    “DON’T BE A HERO TWINKLETOES,” you warned, pointing an accusing finger in her direction as she holds up her hands in her defense as the two of you walked up to the platform. you let out a very audible sigh as natasha takes ahold of your hands and starts to make a very hushed sly comment on how the suit doesn’t do your hands justice. it makes you blush which prompts another comment on how natasha has more bragging points because she’s made the actual god(dess) of war blush.

   “love.”

   “lips are sealed honey,” natasha even ‘zips’ her lips and hands you the imaginary key, giving you a small wink.

   “try not to miss me too much, yeah?” you teased, brows raised as you tried to lighten the mood.

   “tell me about asgard when you get back?” natasha asked, taking a quick step to close the distance in between the two of you as you take a quick glance at thor and the ‘talking racoon’. you wonder if thor could handle it - in his current state, you think he might cry more than you would going back. 

   “natasha,” you begin, taking in a breath as you try to calm your emotions. do you tell her? do you not tell her? do you wait until all of this is over? do you do it now? your mind is working at the speed of light - it’s almost amusing how someone like you seems to get tongue twisted in a situation like this. you’re older now. much more wiser than you were in your last relationship. you’re a commander. a god(ddes) even. yet you couldn’t do something so simple as getting down on your knee? why hadn’t you done it before when it was the two of you? make it more.. intimate?

   “the suspense is killing me.” 

   “i love you,” it’s rushed and you’re laughing to mask the fear in your voice. “in this lifetime and the next.” 

   “don’t get all soft on me now,” she jokes, leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. 

   “don’t take to long, remember, we have to check out the house in the mountains.” you remind her as she leans in for a kiss. 

   “until the sun grows cold, [yourname].” 

   “—and the stars grow old,” you finished, taking your place between her and steve, eyeing the both of them before turning your attention to the center of the room.

   “i’ll see you in a minute baby.”

                       2 HOURS PRIOR.

     “I WANTED TO GIVE HER the ring my mother put in basket, before she passed.” you tell your queen, a sigh leaving your parted lips as you hear both frigga and thor laugh at your sudden confession. you’re almost tempted to kick the back of her son’s knee, but, you settle for a small grunt instead, pursing your lips into a thin line.

   you loved natasha. and she loved you. not because you were some commander who’s led asgard into battle or worked as a council to odin. not because you’ve led asgard into victories or because men and women alike still pray to you before they go off into battle - 

   she loved you. the version of you that would walk the shorelines and keep a small jar of shells on your nightstand. the you that would tell her stories of all the universes you have traveled or of the stars you’ve slept under. the you that would take your time to braid her the way frigga would braid yours.

   “so why haven’t you?”

   “—you know why.” you answered. there’s a flicker of emotion in your eyes that frigga knows all too well, a gentle hand is placed against your cheek as you have to fight to not lean into. frigga wasn’t your mother - not biologically at least. but she’s watched you grow up. she’s watched you fight and tended to your wounds. she’s watched you fall apart and put yourself back together the day you lost a piece of yourself and went off again into battle. 

   you’ve spent your entire life fighting wars that weren’t yours. devoting lifetimes to a cause that you cared little for. you couldn’t remember the last time you had done something for yourself (the only reason you had came to earth to begin with, was to back up thor and retrieve loki). would it be wrong to do something for yourself for once? to live a life that wasn’t paved for you? to move on and let go of your previous lives?

   “you deserve more than what you’ve been given [your name]. please do not let your past keep you from spending the rest of your life they way you have chosen.”

   before you can respond - thor gives you a thumbs up, a way to tell you that he agrees with you. the two of you, were all that was left of your old home (besides valkyrie but, she hadn’t experienced what you and thor had) and you felt like you owed it to both frigga and odin to protect the only son they had left - 

   “the two of you will do great things. and i’m sure you have stories to tell me, but you are here to fix your future. not mine.” she tells you and thor, bringing the two of you in for one last embrace as you bury your face into her shoulder one last time. it’s bittersweet - she might not have been your mother by birthright but she was the closest thing you had to one. and it was painful to bid her goodbye again.

   “take care of each other. i love you. the both of you.”

                      2 HOURS AFTER.

     YOU’RE ENTIRE BODY IS NUMB. you’ve listened to thor’s plan on getting her back. you’ve listened to their cries and complaints - not once, not once had you spoken. you didn’t need to ask clint anything. you knew. you felt it. it felt like your heart had stopped beating - even if it was for just a few seconds. you knew. and there was no way you could bring her back. the guilt ridden archer had tried to approach you (as everyone else did) and you said nothing. your hands remained in your pockets as you looked out over the waters.

   asgard had fallen. half of the universe. loki. heimdall. frigga and odin. hela. and now natasha. you don’t think you’d ever love again - not the way you loved natasha. 

   “[your name],” he approaches with caution, hands held up in his defense as he tries to get a feel of what your current mood was. which is why he keeps his distance at first (and honestly he thinks you might conjure up a weapon and throw it at him) but you say nothing. you can’t find the right words to express the pain in your chest - 

   “whatever we need to do to get her back. we will do it. together. you have my word.” he tells you, taking a few more steps until he’s only a few centimeters in front of you now. and still, you say nothing. 

   “it’s different,” you managed to say, biting at the inside of your cheek as you avoid the blonde’s gaze. “it feels like - it feels like, a part of me is missing. almost as if i am no longer whole.” 

   and he knows better than to interrupt you, if this is your moment to release your grief - he’d be here. whether it be your punching bag, your shoulder to cry on or ear to listen. he would be there - just like you had been there for him all the times before.

   “i told her not to be the hero. i told her not to be the hero and she did it anyways - that’s my job. i’m the one who’s capable of healing. not her. she sacrificed herself knowing - knowing she wouldn’t come back.” you felt she was being selfish but deep down inside, you knew the reason why she had done it. and you would eventually come to terms with it but today was not that day. 

                    16 HOURS AFTER.

     “NATASHA WANTED ME TO GIVE—she wanted me to give this to you,” he chokes in the middle of his sentence, a closed fist is placed in your direction as wanda gives you a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder. you can’t manage to find the words not yet. you had spent the past day in a half trying to pick up whatever pieces of yourself remained. you knew you would outlive natasha - it’s a conversation that was very prominent in the relationship but never did you think it would be this soon.

   when the cool metal reaches your calloused palms, you could feel your heart being ripped from your chest. you laugh. not because the funeral or the situation is funny but because it’s ironic. ironic how the two of you had the same idea yet neither of you would get to  biting at the inside of you cheek as you reached in your pocket to take out the ring you were meant to give her. it’s ironic how the two of you both had the same idea - 

   “she said something. ‘with a love that shall not die—’”

   “’till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old,” you’re shaking your head now, raising the ring into the light to reveal the words: until the next, engraved in it. it’s a real tear-jerker - you aren’t sure what’s keeping you from doubling over and screaming to whatever listened that you needed to have her back. it wasn’t fair. why is it that the universe had to be so cruel to you once more? was the loss of your home? your people? your first love? had that not been enough? had you not suffered enough?

   but you couldn’t. you couldn’t bring yourself to cry. not anymore. “i guess this is my curse. maybe gods do not get happy endings.”

                    3 DAYS LATER.

     “WILL YOU BE JOINING ME?” asked thor as the two of you overlooked new asgard. thor, who had his arms behind his back, turns to you to take in your new look. his eyes trail to the necklace (wanda had gifted you a small chain to wear both of the rings you and natasha were meant to gift to each other). you keep your arms folded across your chest, taking in the view one last time before turning to the god, a sad smile evident on your tired face.

   “not this time i’m afraid your grace.” you replied, clearing your throat as you tried to find the right words to explain to him what lied ahead of you. “there’s a woman i must find. i sent my crows to aid the search but until then.. natasha and i were looking at a home, in the mountains, you know? we were going to get a dog and all that.” 

   “oh.” 

   “but i’m never too far. you know that.” 

   “i know. but it’s time we start forging our own fates isn’t it?” 

   you chuckle, leaning in to press a kiss against his forehead, a gesture that was very common in between the two of you. one that’s quickly followed by a bone crushing hug - 

   “be kind to yourself [your name]. i will be fine.”

   “and you to yourself as well. the crows will always watch over you thor.” 

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ⋆☾

TAG LIST,

@willowtree42095   ♡  @the-fandoms-georgie

[embrassemoi]

No Body, No Crime ✁ 1

AU - Y/N L/N is a second-year law student attending Stanford and studying under Professor Aaron Hotchner. Along with his associate attorneys, Ms. L/N is alongside some of the most ambitious and cutthroat law students in the nation. However, her life gets flipped upside down as she’s thrust into a life of murder, sex and lies.

Main Pairing: Spencer Reid x [F]Reader

Content — Mature themes, blood, major and minor character death, violence, angst, triggering themes, bad coping mechanisms, drugs, mental health shit, alcoholism, lots of smut, language, fluff, mystery, thriller, mentions of cheating, canonical typical themes , dark academia vibes, explicit content - read with caution

DISCLAIMER: This story will contain MATURE content. It will include themes such as smut, violence, etc (see content). If you are not 18+ and unable to handle such themes, respectfully, please exit this story. It is not my intention to make readers uncomfortable or trigger them in any way. If you continue to read the story despite the multiple warnings, I am not responsible for any triggers that may pop up.

Also, based off this blurb! 

I am also not a law student, so there is bound to be misinformation!

【 ao3 | Masterlist | Playlist 】

CHAPTER 1: Death and All His Friends

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Blood, she thinks, you never really know how much blood is in a person. Logically, she did know; she had to learn how many pints there were in the human body from med school and the mass amount of profile study cases. From looking at crime scenes, reading textbooks, medical journals and fake charts; blood has never bothered her, if anything, she got used to seeing and being around it.

There are roughly about ten gallons of blood in the average adult, but typically, losing more than forty percent will result in death. That was about two thousand millilitres.

But, you never realize just how much blood a person can hold, not until a human is slaughtered like an animal, eyes glossed over, body turned cold and stiff — splayed out in front of you. It seems like a lot more than what was described.

There’s a saying, bleed like a pig. Well, she understood what it meant now.

God, she sounded like Spencer.

“What are we going to do with the body?”

“Let’s leave it. We need to go back and clean!”

“No, let’s bury it.”

A chuckle of utter disbelief forces its way out of Derek’s mouth in a rush. It’s both strained and ragged and sounds as if he’s about to burst into tears, but the shock and anger seem to immerse deep in his bones and control his actions. His head shakes subconsciously, “You’re — you’re fucking joking, right? It’s the middle of winter! Tell me how the fuck we’re going to bury a body when the soil’s hard?!”  

There’s a collective panicked sigh that goes through the group as the implications finally start to settle in.

“Be any louder!” Emily half-shouts. She paces back and forth, the freshly fallen snow crunches under her shoes as they leave footprints in their wake. Her hands make extravagant hand movements, almost in an attempt to speak with her actions. But, the only thing that has Y/N somewhat grounded is the rusty blood on Emily’s hands. The stark contrast of her pale skin against the deep red does nothing but make bile rush to her throat.

“The body is what gets us caught!” JJ cuts in through her half-sobs.

“The one time it snows in California! Since when do we get snow?!”

Sticky, cold, dry, flakey blood. It brings too much attention to the blood painting her body in a cruel, evil painting. Y/N lifts a shaky hand as she turns to observe the way the pads of her fingers were stained red. Underneath her fingernails, she can see the blood caking, dried underneath and can feel the heavy liquid travelling up her sleeve.

Her fingers pressed together before a hand shoots up, trying to pick off the blood in a hasty attempt.

Everything was uncomfortable — too uncomfortable and it was sticky and disgusting and there was too much happening. Her brain was overstimulated and all she wanted to do was yell or cry or strip herself clean from these heavy clothes, hiding the blood drenching her underneath. A hand went to claw at the fabric — she needed to breathe — she needed air and it was too tight and —

The falling snow had finally come to a stop, the ground becomes muddy, wet snow being tracked all around but aside from that, it’s dry out. Panic is slow seep within her body, only just registering the dull, prickling ache that travels up the side of her right arm. Not to mention the pounding in her skull felt like someone had taken a power tool, drilling a burl hole into the side of her head in hopes of creating a make-shift lobotomy. On instinct, her hand reaches up to her temples, massaging small circles in hopes to find relief.

But then she catches sight of her hand again from her peripheral vision, or rather, it’s as if she can feel it laminating her skin. Blood.

Now there must be smeared streaks of dried blood coating her face. Fuck, now she really feels like throwing up.

A soft wail can be heard in the background somewhere, but it sounds distant and underwater. She thinks it’s JJ. Her high-pitched cries are loud and she thinks that’s Derek’s voice yelling at her and god… it only amplifies her headache.

She needed an aspirin, Advil — maybe Spencer had some.

Her mind wanders back to the group. Emily… Emily — she’s — Y/N doesn’t know where Emily went actually. She could have sworn she was by the trees…

She continued to pick at her skin absentmindedly, and now she couldn’t tell where her blood started and the one that was sprayed onto her ended.

And Spencer, he’s pacing and hadn’t muttered a word since they left Hotch’s house. His body language is closed off, his hand rubbing up and down his arms in either a self-soothing method or because it’s cold out. She assumes it’s the former.

The one time — the one fucking time the asshole is supposed to be smart, his IQ magically drops below zero.

Everyone is arguing and they all hear the faint cheers, laughter, early fireworks and music blaring in the background. The sound of the bonfire crackles in the distance and all she can do is drown it out. She was supposed to be having fun. She should’ve been visiting home, or maybe studying of fucking Spencer, not wearing shoes twice her size, gloves to cover up her fingerprints; not trying to come up with an alibi and there definitely shouldn’t be someone else’s blood clinging to her. She should’ve been anywhere but here. It’s too much.

Lightheaded, Y/N stumbles backwards, supporting herself against a nearby tree. The shadows and black coat camouflaged her, engulfing her into the night and she feels an odd sense of comfort by it. But, it does anything but calms her down as her chest begins to rise rapidly up and down.

Oh god, oh shit, shit, shit! They’re all fucked — she’s fucked. Her DNA is all over the crime scene. The crime scene is on her and probably under the body’s fingernails. There was no way she was getting out of this. It wasn’t even her fault and look where she is.

She should’ve listened to her Grandparents; don’t go to law school, it’ll turn her into something she’s not. Y/N smiles twistedly thinking about it, they were right.

You can’t get away with murder.

Shit, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“We need to stop wasting time,” Emily announces, appearing remarkably calm.

“W-we should call the police,” Y/N mumbles in a shaky voice. Her voice hitches and she sucks in a cry.

All of their heads, besides Spencer’s, whip over to her; she’s on the verge of breaking — possibly even running off and going straight to the local police station. Her phone suddenly feels heavy in her pocket.

“What we’re not going to do is that! Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail?!” Derek exclaims. His mouth goes to open again before he suddenly halts, looking over to Spencer and shouting. “Ayo, kid-fucking-genius, could you, I don’t know — think?!”

The yelling makes her shrink in on herself. Yes, call the police, turn yourself in. Obstruction of justice; tampering with evidence, manslaughter, attempting to hide a body, invasion of privacy, possible perjury — all this leads to incarceration and more time. Maybe she could even get a deal, say that she was in shock, dealing with PTSD. Immunity! Maybe she could strike herself and Spencer an immunity deal.

God — they killed her. They murdered someone.

Immense guilt bubbles its way through her before she turns to gag on air. Her hands clutches her stomach as she heaves, distantly hearing the arguing background.

“— about Hotch?”

“What about him? He’s going to put us in jail himself. If we’re lucky, he’ll kill us so we can skip a life sentence!”

JJ cries louder. God was she fucking annoying.

“He doesn’t give two shits about her —” “Could everyone just stop for a fucking moment,” a new, irritated voice cuts in. It sounds like it’s been pushed through gritted teeth, muddled by straining and holding back tears. It’s Spencer.

His eyes shut, the palm of his hands pressed harshly on them before rubbing them hard. But, they travel up to his forehead and through his hair, pulling down so hard that Y/N would be surprised if he didn’t already lose a chunk. But within a swift motion, he crouches to the ground in a fetal-like position; the balls of his feet roll back and forth, making his entire body bounce in small rhythms.

He’s having a panic attack, judging by the way his breathing cuts in and out in large volumes, hyperventilation bound to happen soon.

The entire group stays silent before Derek has enough. He walks up to Spencer, a hand clutching his jacket which forces him to stare straight into his eyes.

“Don’t treat him like that,” Emily tries to cut in.

“If you don’t give us something good within the next few seconds, you better pray to god —”

With newfound determination, Spencer meets his eyes with a fiery look, his chest puffed out a bit and his voice is even.

“We burn it.”

━━━━━━━━━༻✈︎༺━━━━━━━━━

Friday, August 29th, 2003

Palo Alto, California. Apartment 7

Four months before

A clanging sound reverberates throughout the empty hallway for the third time within the last five minutes. Her keys.

An annoyed sigh involuntarily leaves her lips as she struggles to lift the stacks of heavy boxes in her arms. Her attention was drawn to a bulletin board near her door. A missing person’s photo was plastered, marked with an eye-catching red border. Printed underneath a photo of a man in bold letters: George Floyet, twenty-five-year-old student at Palo Alto University. Last seen on July 30th, 2003.

When Y/N L/N was fourteen, she vaguely remembered people asking her where she saw herself in the next ten years. Now standing outside her newly rented apartment, sweating as she juggled a stack of large boxes without tripping — well, she certainly hadn’t thought this.

Life had many ups and downs, as cliche as that sounded. She hadn’t expected to graduate university with an English and Human Physiology degree, nor had she expected into medical school before ultimately deciding to take the LSATs, pursuing a career in law.

Truly, had Y/N used one word to describe her career ambitions at the moment, she’d say she’s pretty fucked and clueless. Although, she’d liked to consider herself fairly motivated, resilient, perhaps even strong-willed and quick on her feet. Scratch that, if anything, the one thing she did pride herself on was her ability to compose herself quickly and the want to overcome fear. It was a motto, of sorts, which she’d been sticking close to: going with the flow.

If anything, those were the attributes that built the foundation of what anyone needed to become a successful lawyer. Yes, that made her situation sound a lot less… pathetic.

But certainly, standing in the middle of a corridor in a shitty apartment with walls too thin to save money on rent, she’d consider herself pretty pathetic.

Oh, the joys of moving.

Just as she felt one of the boxes tipping, the sound of shuffling fills the hallway. A pair of large pale hands come out of nowhere, swiftly catching the stacked cardboard boxes with ease.

When she looked up, she hadn’t quite caught a look at the man in front of her as he bent down to pick up her keys. But when he finally stood straight, eyes locking, she took note of his features

He was tall, much taller than herself and dressed in black slacks and a light lilac dress shirt which was pushed up by the sleeves. He was young, probably the same age as her or younger. He was wide-eyed, almost doe-like and wore a nervous yet seemingly gentle expression.

“Hello,” said the stranger. His hair was rumpled as if he’d just woken up as darken eyebags accentuated his face. His face was sharp, features dark — but in a soft sharp way that made the shape of his nose and lips the most noticeable. Pink lips, a tired look, pretty face.

This stranger was friendly and very attractive. That was her first impression of him.

“Hi,” she replied, a bit breathless from the weight of juggling the boxes. But still, she smiled and her head tilted to the side slightly.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were my new neighbour, I hope you don’t mind me helping, you looked like you needed it,” he says nervously, his extra free hand goes back to rub the back of his neck.

Y/N’s eyes shoot over to the door at the end of the hallway, conveniently next to hers: apartment 8. He must've heard the banging against the doors and walls, and suddenly, she felt guilty. She must’ve woken him up.

“Haha, yeah! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

“No! It’s fine.”

Now, both stand there a bit awkwardly before she coughs, which has him nodding and fumbling with her keys in his hand, “Er — I have a couple of minutes before I leave for work, do you still need help?”

“Right, yes!”

Y/N hands him over her other box, her hand taking the keys back as she clicks open her door. The smell of cleaning products filled her nose along with the smell of old books. It’s spacious, considering what she’s paying for it. It’s a flat, aside from the bathroom and kitchen and there’s a small balcony that’s connected with another set of railings outside. The view of green trees and flowers could be seen and suddenly, Y/N considers herself lucky when she’s realized the place she’s snagged.

The man trails behind her, setting the boxes down on the kitchen counter before dusting off any non-existent lint off his pants. His eyes quickly scan the area, in an analytical fashion.

He clears his throat, “Well, it was nice meeting you.”

She nods too, walking back up to her door to lead him out. “Likewise, neighbour.”

This time, a real smile crosses his face before looking down sheepishly, a small tint covering his cheeks. “Please, I’m Doctor Reid — but please, call me Spencer.”

“Doctor?” Her face lights up with curiosity. This man looks as young as her, younger — and she’s only twenty-four.

“Oh, I don’t practice medicine,” he quickly adds. His hands go to fiddle with each other, “I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187,” he explains. However, it’s not in a blatantly rude manner — like he’s trying to flaunt it. If anything, he looks embarrassed. His head drops to look down at his shoes, trying to make himself appear smaller, seeming uncomfortable. But like she said, Y/N likes to believe she’s quick on her feet.

“Well then, Doctor,” she teases, which has him going a deeper shade of pink, “I’m Y/N L/N, I have no PhDs, I used to practice medicine and I have an IQ of — probably a hundred or less.

At this, Spencer visibly relaxes as a deep chuckle makes its way out. He nods again, making his way out the door and does a small wave before disappearing back into his apartment. Y/N leaves her door open, but her back is faced towards it as she hears his door click back open and she feels the vibrations of his door closing before the tapping of his feet becomes more and more distant.

There are a dozen other boxes she ends up hauling in, but she’s noticed that Spencer must have somehow carried a few of the boxes to the top of the stairs rather than just leaving them in the lobby.

As she wipes down the surfaces, music blasting through her earbuds before unboxing her new bed frame, a smirk crosses her face; cheap rent, enrolled at one of the top law schools in the country, has enough money saved for the next few months and a cute, tall, polite and a fucking doctor that just so happens to be her neighbour — damn, Y/N doesn’t mind this at all.

【 Next Chapter 】