#Anyways I swear I’m working on Call It Fate it’s just like 1 sentence a week

[lemonwrap]

Thinking about robot Ghost who is fascinated by human Soap and thinks he’s just an incredible feat of nature. He never paid much attention to the intricacies of humans until he met Soap.

He loves touching Soap just to feel the warmth of his skin, loves laying his head on Soap’s chest to hear his heart beat, loves making Soap laugh and smile just to marvel at how expressive he is, and loves watching Soap work just so he can admire how he moves. Ghost is simply in awe of how everything he has to artificially emulate comes to Soap so naturally, and he’s drawn to Soap like a moth to a flame.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Prelude (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.5 K Premise: Three moments leading up to their fateful meeting.

Author’s Note: In which I try to explain why MC didn’t know what Ethan, her medical hero, looked like. Also, my (late) fic for the book 1 replay. Thank you @aestheticartsx​ for pre-reading!

Three.

Harper frowns down at the file in her hand, her sharp gaze burning into the collated papers as though coercing them to solve their dilemma once and for all. From the end of the table, Cyrus lets out an inpatient sigh.

“It's very simple, Harper,” he drones. Ethan's fists clench reflexively at his sides, urging to remind Cyrus that Harper is the chief now and warrants more respect than his insufferable tone is offering. “The last spot should go to the candidate from Harvard. We are the best hospital on the east coast, after all. It only makes sense.”

Harper looks unconvinced and still, her pensive expression remains fixed in the file.

“An ivy league degree does not a good doctor make,” Naveen adds sagely into the ensuing silence. His smile is placid enough but Ethan knows the older doctor well enough to hear the warning edge in his voice. Evidently, even Naveen disapproves of Cyrus's lack of respect for their new chief.

Cyrus scoffs.

“And if you need further proof of that, Doctor Cyrus,” Ethan begins dryly, eyes boring into him. “Then look no further than your side of the conference table.”

A few attendings—at least the ones who have become increasingly tired of Cyrus's boastful proclamations about his alma mater—laugh quietly at the jab. Cyrus splutters, his face an unpleasant shade of red as he glares daggers at Ethan.

“This candidate,” Harper says at last, unaware or uncaring of what she had just interrupted. Her two lone words are enough to command the room's attention at once, but her hazel eyes are on Ethan. “You're convinced she's the best fit for Edenbrook?”

Ethan meets her eye and pauses.

It's the first time they look at each other directly since he ended their relationship two weeks prior. Despite the brief time apart and an unshakeable resolve to be professional, his stomach sinks heavy, like a stone.

Harper looks as graceful and dignified as ever, keeping every emotion in check. Yet, as she holds his gaze, Ethan can see a small flicker or sadness and his stomach twists with guilt.

“I'm positive, Chief Emery,” Ethan responds. “This candidate exhibits the type of potential we look for at Edenbrook.”

The use of her new title seems to snap Harper out of a reverie.

“She graduated top of her class and ranked in the top percent among our chosen cohort of interns,” Ethan continues. “I've also looked into her research and it's among the most promising I've seen. I recommend her without reservations.”

With a single nod and a sense of finality, Harper closes the file.

“Then it's settled. We have our last intern.”

“You're joking, Harper,” Cyrus blurts out, incensed. “We're giving a coveted spot to the candidate from UCLA?”

He says the name of the school with so much derision, Ethan feels his ears flare up.

“That Doctor Ayala?” Cyrus continues.

“Doctor Allende,” Ethan corrects, jaw clenched.

“Don't we have enough charity cases in the cohort already? This is token—”

But the vitriol is quickly interrupted by several things happening at once: Ethan darting forward, fists ready; a startled, collective gasp from the other attendings; Naveen, quietly intercepting Ethan and halting his steps with a steady hand, a feat that is impressive for a man much older and shorter; and Harper, also on her feet, directing a disgusted look at Cyrus she doesn’t bother to disguise behind professionalism.

“I would think very carefully about finishing that sentence if I were you, Doctor Cyrus,” she says, her voice low but with the impact of a clashing gavel. “And I ask that you address me as Chief Emery moving forward.”

Two.

“If you end up marrying someone with a Boston accent,” Laurel is saying with a devilish grin. “I will never be able to keep a straight face when they talk. Pahk the cah in Hahvahd Yahd.”

Her older sister peers at Lilac over the flaps of an open cardboard box, the glint in her eye growing wickeder still. “Imagine what they’d sound like in bed. You're so fucking gawgeous, dawctaw—”

Before her sister can escalate that impression into disturbing territory, Lilac silences her with a well-aimed pillow. It succeeds in hitting Laurel straight in the face but also in turning her laughter into a cackle.

“Are you going to help me pack or not?” Lilac says sternly, though the effect is entirely ruined by the smile that manages to break through.

Laurel raises her hands in defeat and returns to packing Lilac's books neatly. They work in companionable silence for a few minutes with nothing but their favorite music blaring from the speakers of Lilac's phone.

“Is this the book?” her sister asks suddenly, turning a worn textbook in her hands and studying it closely. “The one written by your medical crush?”

For some inexplicable reason, Lilac feels her face flare with heat. “He's not my crush.”

“You just worship the ground he walks on,” her sister returns, flipping through Diagnostic Principles. “Though, you're right. In order to have a crush you'd need to know what he looks like.”

Laurel reaches the back cover, frowning. “Why wouldn't he add an author picture?”

Lilac says nothing, biting the inside of her cheek. She can't blame her sister for being curious and a bit disappointed at the lack of visual representation. After all, Lilac had felt crestfallen when all she found in the author's information section was the green and blue Edenbrook logo.

“Maybe he's a private man and doesn't like his picture out in the world? Maybe he wants aspiring doctors to focus on his research and not his looks?”

“So he's either really hot or really ugly,” Laurel returns, unmoved by Lilac's impassioned speech. “Have you ever tried looking him up online?”

Lilac had been tempted many times, but she was fiercely adamant about keeping her medical hero a mystery outside of his work. It already felt invasive enough to track down his undergrad research and every other minor paper he'd ever written. When it came to Ethan Ramsey, Lilac had searched every corner of scholarly journals and databases, absorbing every piece of his work with an adoration that was already embarrassing enough.

Plus, she would never admit it out loud, but she was also afraid that knowing what the brilliant doctor looked like would somehow ruin him for her. Or at least, alter the image of him she had constructed in her head for so many years. It felt right to continue seeing Dr. Ramsey as the brilliant force that pushed her into her dream career and not as a definitive set of features.

“It doesn't matter what he looks like. He's the best and I'm going there to learn from him, not to judge his appearance.”

“I'm Googling him,” Laurel announces, already typing furiously into her phone. After a few seconds, her phone returns results and her eyebrows shoot up, staying suspended for longer than normal.

“What?” Lilac asks despite herself.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“Just… wow.” Laurel stares down at the screen with such awestruck amazement that Lilac feels a powerful wave of curiosity. “He’s shirtless in some of these.”

“What?” Lilac yelps, feeling her face flare up at once. 

“Yeah, apparently you’re not his only fan. Tons of people have taken his picture.” Her sister seems to blink out of a trance, turning the screen toward Lilac. “Here, see for your—”

But Lilac turns her gaze away almost out of reflex.

“No!” 

The word comes out far more impassioned than Lilac intended. Still, she resolutely turns her head. “That feels...invasive, somehow?”

“Come on—”

“I'm serious, Lau. I don't want to see. I'm already nervous enough about this whole thing without having to worry about this wow-worthy revelation. And besides, taking someone’s shirtless picture without their consent and posting it online is already bad enough. It feels wrong supporting that.”

Laurel rolls her eyes.

“I'm going to see him in less than a week anyway. With clothes. In a professional setting. As I should. If I waited all these years, I can wait that long.”

A knowing, devious sort of smile pulls at her sister's face. She mumbles something over the music and Lilac can swear it sounds oddly like: “...worth the wait.”

One.

Ethan should have taken the broken and sputtering coffee machine in his apartment as an omen. His morning definitely declined from then on, starting with gridlock traffic and ending with an infuriatingly long line at his favorite coffee place.

The ultimate lack of coffee is probably his fault because Ethan had spent too much time deliberating whether or not he wanted to go with store bought coffee on what promised to be a grueling day. When he had finally made up his mind, however, the line was already out the door.

Irritated and caffeine deprived, he drives back to Edenbrook.

“You're earlier than we agreed,” Naveen says as soon as Ethan accepts his incoming call. “What was the point of rearranging the whole schedule if you were going to come in when you pleased anyway?”

“I'm not even through the gates yet. What are you spying on me?”

“No need. You forget how predictable you are.”

Naveen chuckles as he says this which eases some of Ethan's irritation. The older doctor had purposely scheduled him later in the day to give him some peace on the first day of the new intern cohort.

Naturally, Ethan arrived several hours early, as per his custom.

“Or maybe you know me too well by now.”

Naveen's benevolent laughter turns into a dry but lingering cough on the other end of the line. Instantly, Ethan's insides freeze over, his stomach sinking unpleasantly.

He opens his mouth to question his mentor about this persisting symptom, when sheer reflex prompts him to stomp on the breaks so suddenly, his body jerks forward then slams against his seat.

“Shit.”

Something—or rather someone— had crossed the parking lot road right in front of his car, standing mere inches away from his front bumper.

“Ethan?” Naveen asks through the speaker.

When Ethan recovers and regains movement of his arms and legs, he feels the spike of adrenaline give way to pure annoyance.

The offending pedestrian is a young brunette clad in blue scrubs, a medical intern by the looks of it. She stands there in the middle of the road, her mouth hanging open in a way that would have been comical to Ethan if he wasn't so irritated.

They stare at one another, though Ethan is convinced she can't see much through the tinted glass.

Then, right before his eyes, she seems to recover from the shock. Drawing herself to her full height, she glares at Ethan. At least, he thinks she's glaring through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

Ethan almost scoffs.

She has the audacity to be angry when she was the one who made the rookie mistake of aimlessly crossing in front of him?

Who the hell does she think she is?

“Asshole,” she mutters, the word quite audible through his windows.

Before a stunned Ethan can respond, she turns on her heel and rushes toward the hospital, a curtain of dark hair dancing behind her.

“What was that?” Naveen asks, still on the call.

“I hate interns,” Ethan responds much to the older doctor's amusement.

Bonus:

Author’s Note: In other words, my MC was late to her orientation because of Ethan and that’s how she met him in the waiting room lol. Thank you so much for reading! 

*Tagging Separately 

[eveningstar1516]

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 8

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

His brothers would always know whenever he went to see her as he’d always come back with a content smile on his face. Deep down, he wished that Y/N could’ve met Cynthia. They would have made great friends as they were the only 2 people who could make him smile like this. Mammon may not have been able to save Y/N, but he swore that he would protect Cynthia, no matter the cost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 8 - The Great Pancake Debate (2261 words)

It’s been almost 6 months since you arrived in the Celestial Realm. Needless to say, you are quite certain that these last 6 months have been the craziest and stressful months of your life! When you told Simeon and Luke about you staying here, to say they were ecstatic would be an understatement. Luke jumped for joy and wouldn’t stop rambling about all the fun you were going to have. When you told them about God appointing them to help teach you about the Realm, Luke practically did a double take and it took an hour to calm him. Now you have Simeon teaching you about politics and Luke about how to use your wings and powers. On your second day there, Michael woke you up, or well came to get you as you didn’t get any sleep. Turns out, while the Devildom is constant at night, the Celestial realm is constant day and thanks to the floor to ceiling windows, there was no way for you to stop sunlight from coming in. You were introduced to the council at breakfast. Note to self, the brothers breakfasts are QUIET AND PEACEFUL compared to Archangels off duty. The first thing you saw were 2 angels passionately arguing over which pancake topping was the best, strawberries or blueberries. At some point a third angel cut in claiming chocolate chips were the best and all heaven (would you replace hell with heaven here? idk) broke loose. As for me, I just started chuckling in disbelief while making my way over to pick up a pancake of my own when the angel arguing on behalf of the strawberries saw you.

“Hey kid, what topping do you prefer, strawberries, blueberries, or chocolate chips? It’s strawberries right?”

“Actually, I prefer them plain with maple syrup. Although if Satan was the one making it, I’d go for the one with poison berries. Contrary to their name, they’re not actually poisonous and quite sweet.” All the angels present looked at me with a mix of shock and disbelief, save for Michael who just sat there eating his breakfast hoping to leave soon and get to work.

“Kid, did you say Satan?” The angel arguing on behalf of blueberries asked. “Yeah… Blond hair, teal eyes, Avatar of Wrath, Luci’s son? Ring a bell?” Turning to Michael, blueberry angel asked,

“Micheal, who are they and why are they wearing Lucifer’s old get up?” “This is Y/N. They will be staying here and taking Samael’s spot on the council until their agreement with Father ends and they return to the Devildom. Father has asked us to teach them about how our Realm operates and how to successfully fulfill Samael’s former position flawlessly, unless they want to return now and leave heaven early?” Michael turned towards you with a smirk on his face as he asked the last part.

“Very funny Mike. You and I both know I won’t do that no matter how bad you want me to.”

“What did I say about calling me that?!” Micheal’s smirk turned into something short of a snarl.

“Well, if you won’t take me seriously, neither will I. You want me to call you by your name, earn it and stop being an butt… I meant an butt… Why can’t I swear?!”

“This is the Celestial Realm Y/N. Angels don’t swear.” Michael said smugly over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“God Dang it! Argh! Fudge!. Dang it! Ya know what, forget it, my entire mood is ruined. Thanks Michael!”

“Anytime.”

Shooting Michael one last glare, I sighed and turned to the rest of the baffled angels in the room.

“Yes, what Michael said is true. Stuff happened in the Devildom which I will not get in too-”

“The demon king made Samael kill them.”

“Ok, Mike, first off, he didn’t, I ordered him too, second, I thought I said I didn’t want to talk about it. What gives you the right to tell them huh?”

“I felt like it.”

“You son of a beach.” I turned back to the rest of the angels. “Not a word about it. Anyway, due to some personal issues, I made a deal with Father to stay here on the condition that I take over Lucifer’s spot on the council until he either kicks me out or until our agreement has ended.”

“If I may, when will this agreement of yours be over?” The blueberry angel asked.

“I will be returning to the Devildom once Lord Diavolo has been crowned king and his father is 100% out of the picture. Now if you don’t mind me asking, could you introduce yourselves?” “Oh how rude of us, I’m sorry, I am Gabriel.” Gabriel had chestnut brown medium length hair, reaching shoulders. His eyes were a dull green. He wore a white turtleneck and had a light green shawl with golden tassels. He pointed to the strawberry angel. “This is Raphael and he’s Uriel.” He pointed to the chocolate chip angel. Raphael had long reddish-orange hair put up in a high ponytail. His eyes were a stormy gray. He wore a simple light gray half sleeve with an off the shoulder white cape and little decor. Uriel had short gray hair and golden eyes that almost seemed to sparkle. He wore something that reminded you of an off white scholar's robe with gray accents. “These are Saraqael, and Raguel.” He pointed to 2 of the quieter angels who didn’t participate in “the great pancake debate”. “We make up the Archangel council and we’re happy to have you Y/N.” Gabriel finished off with a smile. You were just barely able to make out a little “Not all of us” from Michael. You decided to ignore it, and then, like all the decisions you’ve ever made, it was the wrong one. Sitting back down you asked,

“So, quick question. What started The Great Pancake Topping debate?”

.

.

.

.

Breakfast ended 2 hours later with upset angels, and pancakes, everywhere…

In the Devildom. After they lost Y/N

Levi went straight to his room as soon as they got home. As soon as he closed and locked the door he went straight to Henry’s fishbowl, picked it up and sat in his bathtub, hugging the bowl as he cried. ‘Why do I feel like this?! I only like 2D characters and Ruri-chan, not 3D people. How do I miss them?... Why did they leave me? They were my player 2.’ “Well it makes sense, no one would want to stay with a worthless shut in of an otaku like me” he said to the empty room. Henry 2.0 glubbed a bubble in response. “You wouldn’t leave me, would you Henry?” *Glub* “No you wouldn’t… I miss them.” Levi stayed in his tub hugging Henry 2.0 until he fell asleep.

Present

It was another late night, Levi was bingeing a new anime ‘I fell in love with a 3D girl but I’m afraid she’ll leave me after finding out that I’m an otaku who rarely leaves their room’ . He was halfway through the 9th episode when he got a notification from Mononoke Island. One of his raid mates was stuck and needed some help. He paused his marathon to help his fellow mate and stayed up until the early hours of the morning switching between playing Mononoke and watching his anime. Stumbling into the dining room for breakfast the next morning, he was met with complete silence. Lucifer had left early, Belphie was asleep, Beel was too absorbed in eating, Satan in his book and Asmo on his phone to even notice him enter the room. Mammon was busy in the human world helping out sone witches. Levi sat down in his normal spot, taking whatever was left as he mentally prepared himself for the day. As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of the day at RAD, still dressed in his uniform, Levi left as quickly as he could. There was an anime expo happening in the human realm right now and there was some ultra-rare limited edition Ruri-chan merch being sold there. He had gotten Lucifer’s permission to attend the expo so long as he was back by 11. Existing the portal and making his way to the expo, Levi thought about the last expo he attended with Y/N. They cosplayed as Erin and Levi from Attack on Titan and spent the entire day surrounded by fellow anime nerds. They had also booked a room at a nearby hotel. It was 3 days of bonding time for them. Entering the expo, Levi decided he would get something for them as decor for their headstone put in memory of them in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. Nearing the line for Ruri-chan merch, Levi noticed someone staring intensely at him. He decided to ignore them but keep a loose eye on them, just in case. He got to the front of the line and purchased 4 of the Ruri-chan collection kits. One for use, one for display, one to keep and sell in the future, and one for Y/N. He decided to wander around a little more to see if anything else would catch his eye while he was here. He spotted a Black Butler station and remembered the jokes he and Y/N would crack about Barbatos and Sebastian. He passed a Fate/Stay Night stand and remembered their conversations on which heroic class they would belong to. Levi would have been the perfect Lancer. He passed countless other stalls, each of them holding a memory he made with Y/N. Distracted by his trip down memory lane, Levi forgot all about the person stalking him. He went and purchased some dinner from one of the stalls before sitting down and pulling out his DDD and looked at some pictures of Y/N and him at their last expo. He didn’t look up from his phone until he felt someone sit opposite of him. Levi looked up to see some middle aged man just sitting there on his phone. He didn’t have any food, merch, or even look like someone interested in an anime expo. Feeling an uncomfortable aura emitting from this man, Levi got up and left. He took a quick look over his shoulder and saw that the man wasn’t following him. He left the expo and went down an alleyway to open up a portal back to the Devildom when he accidentally bumped into someone dropping his purchases.

“S-sorry”

“That’s quite alright.” The stranger extended a hand out to let him up. “Say, I’d love to know where you got your uniform from. No schools around here have uniforms like that one.”

Looking up, Levi saw the same man that was watching him with a twisted smile. Masking his fear, he mumbled an excuse about being in a rush and tried to dash around him. Before he could get 2 steps down the alley, the man grabbed him and pushed him further into the alleyway. Levi’s head struck the wall hard leaving him dazed for a moment.

“I didn’t think my intel about finding a RAD attendee at the expo would be true but whaddya know? Seems I caught myself a demon.”

Levi, now more aware of his surroundings, realized he was cornered by a demon hunter. Despite being in an alleyway, there were too many people around for him to do anything rash. Without missing a beat, the hunter pulled out an enchanted dagger aiming straight for Leviathan’s heart. Levi rolled and dogged last minute before colliding into someone’s chest. That person in question wrapped his arms around Levi’s chest and put their own dagger to his throat.

“I know you’re there! Come on out and I might spare your friend's life!” The hunter holding Levi yelled. When no one stepped out, the dagger held by Levi’s neck began pushing on his skin. Levi felt a flare of pain and against his better judgement, transformed. His tail wrapped around hunter 2’s leg and flipped him over while the first hunter charged at him, only to be blown to the ground as a powerful gust of wind knocked him over.

“Jeez Levi, you’re lucky I was here. Seriously, why didn’t ya do somethin’ earlier? Maybe then I wouldn’t have ta save yo ass.” Mammon stepped out from the darkness with a bored look on his face.

“Come on, Lucifer’s waiting for ya back home. LOOK OUT!” Levi turned around just in time to see Hunter number 2 taking a swing at his neck and managed to duck just in time. Mammon then charged over punching the hunter square in the face, knocking him out cold.

“T-thanks M-mammon.”

“No problem. Come on, let’s get ya back home before any more of them show up.”

Stepping through the portal, a question plagued Levi’s mind.

“Mammon, how did you know I was in trouble?”

“Some witches summoned me. I overheard them talk about some hunter group getting a tip about a possible demon being at some expo. Then I realized that it was the same one you were going to, so I decided to go there myself to make sure ya weren’t followed. I’m glad I did too.”

“Th-thank you Mammon. Really.”

“Of course, what are big brothers for. Anyway, about my payment, maybe you can forget about the money I owe ya?”

Groaning, Levi started walking faster, leaving Mammon and his whining behind as he made his way back to the safety of his room.

[babbushka]

5 Times Flip Ruined Valentine’s Day (And 1 Time He Didn’t)

Flip Zimmerman x Reader (Darling Jewish Wife AU)

11k ; cw: mild angst, mostly fluff & humor, mentions of baby zimmerman, mentions of war, mentions of undercover with the klansmen, brief hospitalization (sex injury), NSFW (PIV, fingering, praise kink, begging, finger sucking, multiple-orgasms, mild lactation kink, implied marathon sex) 

Available on AO3

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

L is for the way you look at me

February 14th, 1962. Flip Zimmerman is twenty-three years old and has finally worked up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. After months of pining, months of agonizing, months of Jimmy makin’ fun of him for being such a chicken, he finally asked and you stunned him by saying yes straight away. It’s his first Valentine’s Day with you, but more than that, it’s his first Valentine’s Day ever. Flip has it all planned out, he’s going to make sure that this memory is a perfect one, wanting to prove to you that he can be not only your best friend, but the best boyfriend.

Oh, if only life were that easy.

It had started out innocently enough, at least he likes to tell himself that. Not wanting to go too big too fast and run out of room on the very first holiday, Flip decided to keep things simple. He was going to cook you dinner. A real dinner too, with all five courses and a dessert. You didn’t know this, but Flip had been taking cooking lessons secretly after his shift at the lumber mill twice a week. He felt bad, knowing that you always do the cooking whenever you’re together, and dammit he plans on marrying you one day, so he figures he better get his act together now. His Ma had even given him the go-ahead to use the good china.

He doesn’t know when exactly, it went wrong.

“Hey Jim, are you busy?” Flip’s just finishing up his shift at the mill, when he calls his best friend to try and get some extra muscle, “I’m about to head to the market, help me with these groceries?”

He had told Jimmy about the plan of course, mostly because he told him everything. He loved telling you everything too, but this was one of those things that he had made Jimmy swear to secrecy, so as to not fuck up the surprise.

“Sure thing, pick me up?” Jimmy’s cheerful voice crackled over the phone line, and with an affirmative reply, Flip is practically bounding out of the little office where he works, and is grabbing his keys.

Ten minutes later, Jimmy is in the passenger seat, reaching into Flip’s jacket pocket for the grocery list, wondering what the hell Flip needs his help for.

“So what’s on the list anyway – holy shit this is a lot of stuff, Flip.” Jimmy’s eyes widen comically when the grocery list seemingly never ends, and he tries to make heads or tails of Flip’s shitty handwriting.

“I know! I’m doing a soup and a salad and then making these bread rolls that I know she’ll love and then for the appetizer course I’m doing – ” Flip doesn’t catch the concern in Jimmy’s voice, so focused on driving down to the market, focused on his mission.

“Uhh, are you sure about all this? Don’t you remember what happened that time you tried to boil water?” Jimmy very gently cuts Flip off, only keeping his best friend’s interests at heart.

Flip, for his part, sours and shoots him a glare, snatching the list back from his friend’s hand.

“Shut the fuck up, I’ve been taking lessons. I got this, now would you help me find everything? I figure it’ll be faster with the two of us, and I really need to get started before she comes over.” There’s a distinct edge to his voice that’s the closest thing to panic that Jimmy’s ever heard – at least since the day that Flip broke his clavicle on that snowboarding accident a decade ago.

Once in the grocery store, Flip can’t help but feel cocky. Between the two of them, everything on the list is found with time to spare, which is good because now that he’s really doing this, Flip won’t deny he’s got butterflies. It has to be perfect, he thinks, it just has to.

“Alright that’ll be everything I think – oh!” At the checkout register, Flip quickly grabs a big chocolate bar of your favorite kind, and adds it to the already enormous pile of shit, “And this too, please.”

Jimmy helps Flip load all the paper bags into the car, and then is a good friend and helps bring everything inside the house. Flip doesn’t let him stick around to help, instead shooing Jimmy out with a big plate of his Ma’s homemade cookies as a payment for all the help, and finally letting out a deep breath that he didn’t even know he had been holding.

“Okay Phil, you can do this.” He whispers to himself, “It’s just like class.”

And surprisingly, it was just like class. Flip prepared all the vegetables and got all the dishes starting in the correct order so they’d be finished in time for your arrival – which was in exactly half an hour. He doesn’t know how the fuck he managed to pull this off, but he’s not about to go tempting fate or anything, so he decides that now would be a good time to freshen up so he doesn’t smell like raw onions when you get there.

Flip agonizes over what to wear, eventually settling on a nice dress shirt and some slacks, willing his hair to part neatly. He hopes you don’t think he looks stupid, he – the doorbell rings, and he sucks in a sharp breath to himself.

Without another second’s hesitation, Flip moves to the front door and opens it, momentarily stunned by your beauty. He should have lit up a cigarette, he thinks, because all of a sudden his hands are shaking, just from the sight of you.

“Hi.” He blurts out inelegantly, but you only give him a big smile.

“Hi, you look really handsome.” You bat your lashes and bite the inside of your cheek, and some of the tension in Flip’s shoulders slip away, because he realizes that you’re nervous too.

Taking in the sight of you, it’s very clear that you tried hard to look nice for him, something that blows Flip’s fuckin’ mind. How’d he ever get so lucky to have a girl like you want to be his? Your nails are freshly done, and he’s pretty sure he’s never seen you in this dress before, you even put on some perfume. The scent of it curls up in his nostrils, and he tries to think of something to say so that he isn’t just staring at you.

“You too.” Is the genius move he comes up with, immediately tripping over his tongue, “I mean, you’re beautiful, not that you’re not also handsome, if you want to be, I – ”

“Can I come in?” You give him a break, and he’s grateful for it.

Opening the door wider for you, he steps to the side and mentally kicks himself for being such an idiot.

“Yes. Yes please do, please come in.” Flip tries his best to remember the manners that he was raised on, although it’s difficult when you’re so beautiful and you’re here and you’re his girlfriend. “Let me take your coat?”

“Sure, thanks.” You grin, before your smile falters and a deep concerning frown dimples your forehead, “Say, something smells…um…Flip is something burning?”

Flip frowns too then, filling his lungs, trying to figure out what you’re talking about when it hits him --

“My roast!” Flip shouts, bolting into the kitchen.

What had just been a perfectly cooked dinner not thirty minutes prior, was now a large grease fire, with flames licking up high high high into the air, threatening to touch the ceiling and spread across the kitchen.

“Fuck – fuck shit! God dammit!” Flip frantically begins searching for something, mind going into overdrive to put the fire out. He grabs a bag of something, he doesn’t even know what it is, flour maybe? All he remembers from the class is to never ever throw water on a grease fire, otherwise he’d really be in trouble.

“Oh my god the stove!” The soup on the stove has boiled over and hit the gas burners, there’s smoke coming out of the oven in thick dark plumes, and you scream, “Where’s your fire extinguisher?!”

“Under the sink!” Flip remembers all of a sudden, and lunges to the cabinet under the sink, yanking on the pin and letting the white frothy foam explode out of the nozzle.

Flip pushes you to stand behind him as he puts the fire out, like some hero in an action movie, but instead of praising his heroism, you run out of the room to the phone in the hallway and dial the emergency number.

“I’m going to call the fire department, the flames could be inside the wall.” You shout to him, opening up the windows to air the place out as you go.

Ten minutes later, the fire department is crawling all through his house, and every single one of the neighbors is standing outside on their front lawns like the nosy people they are. Flip is sitting with you on the front porch, his head hung low between his knees, as you rub his back.

“God my Ma’s gonna fuckin’ murder me.” He groans, praying that the fire didn’t get big enough to ruin the whole kitchen.

“We’ll explain to her that it was just an accident.” You lean your head against his shoulder and keep him calm, a soothing balm that cools all his frayed edges. “We’re okay, and that’s what matters most, right?”

He looks at you then, cups a hand to your cheek and gives you a sheepish sigh.

“Yeah.” He grumbles, really desperate for a cigarette now, “I’m real fuckin’ sorry sweetheart, I had it all figured out and then…”

One of the firefighters walks past him, and Flip just gestures to him with a sigh.

But you, somehow, somehow you’re an angel and all you do is laugh, nudging his side with your elbow, making him look at you with an eyebrow raised. Of all the reactions that he had expected you to have, laughter wasn’t one of them.

“Hey, at least we’ll have a story to tell the grandkids one day.” You offer, and in that one little sentence, Flip’s heart beats double time.

“You’re not dumping me?” His eyes widen in surprise, because he was sure, so sure that that’s where this fucking day was going, he wouldn’t blame you if you had, he almost burned the house down after all.

“Dumping you! After how hard you worked and tried? No way.” You shake your head, almost sounding offended by the thought. “In fact, I think it makes me want to date you even more now. Just promise me next year, we stick to flowers or chocolates, okay?”

“Oh, speaking of which – ” Flip remembers, reaches around for something in his pocket, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

It’s pitiful really, the way that the chocolate bar from the grocery store has slightly melted and broken while being in his back pocket this entire time, but he figures, no better time than right now to give it to you.

And even though you’re laughing, your arms corralling him into a tight hug to kiss the side of his face and reassure him that you think the gesture was very sweet, Flip still can’t help but feel…well…burned.

O is for the only one I see

February 14th, 1967. Flip Zimmerman is thirty years old and officially (!!) your fiancée. It only took him five years to propose, but you knew Flip, and you knew how hard and long he thought about things like this, wanting everything to be perfect. And it had been, the trip to Egypt was a dream come true! The wedding was set for next month, March 18th to be exact, but Flip didn’t want to rest on that excitement to not give you the incredible Valentine’s Day he’s always dreamed of giving you.

True to his word, the previous few holidays have been spent very lowkey, a quiet night at a nice restaurant, dinner prepared by someone that wasn’t him, chocolates and champagne and big bouquets of roses.

But things were different now, he wasn’t just some lowly boyfriend who worked at the family lumber mill – no, now he was a Detective with the CSPD and more importantly, your fiancée and that had to mean something. He wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t going to start slacking now that you’ve agreed to tie the knot with him.

“Ketsl? It’s me.” Flip’s just finished changing out of his work clothes in the rec room, into something more put together for the surprise date he’s about to take you on.

“Hi honey! I’m almost ready, I’ll be all done by the time you come home.” Your voice is bright and fills him with warmth from the other end of the line.

“Remember to wear something comfortable.” Flip flicks the ash of his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk, looking at the picture of you he keeps framed right next to the phone, that way it’s like you’re really there, even when you’re not.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?” You have that pleading tone in your voice that usually Flip can never deny, but today is a different day, a special day.

“No way, then it won’t be a surprise, would it?” He chuckles into the receiver, and you groan playfully, eventually conceding.

“Okay, I love you, see you soon.” You blow kisses into the phone, and Flip shoots glares to any and everyone who dares to make fun of him for that.

So what if he’s in love? Who could fault him for that?

He had it all figured out. After the disaster that was the grease fire, Flip decided that this year there would be no adventurous cooking. Since that Valentine’s Day, he had moved into a small house right off 21st Street with you, and the last fucking thing he wanted was to burn down that kitchen too.

Instead, Flip had gotten tickets to a play you had been dying to see at the Denver Center for the Preforming Arts. It was a bit of a drive, but the trip would be worth it, especially considering the seats he was able to get thanks to a friend over at Denver PD. He was going to take you out to a nice dinner beforehand, which meant if you were going to make it in time, he needed to hit the road now.

His car makes it halfway to his house, when there’s a strange rattle that comes from somewhere inside the dash.

“Excuse me?” Flip says out loud to himself, praying that what he thinks is happening, isn’t happening right now.

A light goes off on the dash, and then another, and then somehow another light, all lighting up on the dash, as his car rattles and makes all sorts of noises that he knows he can’t fix with his tire-jack.

“Oh no,” He groans, as the car comes to a rolling stop, the engine failing for whatever fucking reason, “No no no.”

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he’s already doing the mental math and knowing that he’s going to be late – if he gets home to you at all. To avoid risking an accident, Flip manages to urge the car to the side of the road, and he chucks the flashers on.

“This cannot fucking be happening, not now.” Flip gets out of the car, goes around to the front and opens up the hood. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to fix things, he was handy and took mechanics in high school, but shit high school was some fuckin’ time ago and he doesn’t even know where to look first, anger and frustration bubbling up inside his chest. “How the fuck am I – Flip, remain calm. De-escalate the situation.”

Two seconds later, he still can’t figure it out, and he slams the hood shut with a loud, “God fucking dammit!”

There’s only one choice, Flip knows. He has to walk to the nearest gas station and use their phone for help. Luckily, he knows of one not too far away, you always give them a gift basket of homemade treats for the winter holidays.

As he walks down the sidewalk, leaving his car there on the street without much other choice, he feels…something.

A light plip of water on his shoulder.

Dread creeps up into his throat, because that plip turns to a downpour in five seconds flat, and Flip really had to just stand there, take a moment, and try not to scream out his frustration as the rain pours and pours and pours out of fucking nowhere.

By the time he makes it to the gas station, he is soaked to the bone, and livid.

The door to the gas station swings open and Flip steps inside, taking deep breaths to try and preserve some dignity that he has left. Of course, he had an umbrella, but it was in the car, and he wasn’t about to double back when he was already wet. The look on his face must have been murderous, because the cashier at the counter approaches him tentatively.

“Hey man, are you okay?” The guy asks. Really he’s a kid, probably not more than sixteen, and Flip composes himself as he lights up a cigarette now that he’s sure the drenching downpour won’t put it out immediately.

“My car broke down a couple miles up the road, can I use your payphone?” He sucks down a couple drags, pulling out his wallet and fishing for a few coins.

“The payphone is out of order.” The kid replies, and Flip freezes, letting that information settle into his bones.

“Of course it is.” He mutters, teeth nearly pinching through the cigarette that he’s now smoking like it’s the last one he’ll ever have.

The kid notices Flip’s darkening mood, and thinks for a minute or two, before noticing one of the other people in the gas station.

“But hey! My buddy here is a mechanic and drives a tow truck. He can give you a lift, can’t you Tony?” The kid offers on his friend Tony’s behalf, and Flip tries not to get his hopes up.

Tony, another teenager who looks like he just got his license, maybe a little older, pops up from around one of the aisles with his arms full of chips.

“Sure thing sir, where you headed?” Tony smiles brightly, and Flip just smokes smokes smokes.

“21st street.” He offers, praying that this kid knows where that is.

By the way his eyes light up, Flip thinks that maybe, just maybe, his luck is turning.

As it would turn out, Flip’s house isn’t too far from the mechanic shop that Tony works at. On the way to his house, they strike up a deal to get the car looked at and fixed up before the day was over.

It’s still pouring rain, Tony pulls the tow truck up to the curb and Flip opens the door, reaching over to shake his hand.

“Thanks, I appreciate this a lot.” Flip says, feeling much less angry and now sort of…defeated.

“No problem, I’ll give you a call when we’ve fixed her up.” Tony gives Flip’s hand a hearty shake, “And thanks again for paying for my snacks, that was pretty cool.”

They part ways, and he only gets two steps closer to the front door when it flies open and you’re rushing out into the rain to hug him, holding him close.

“Phil!” You bury your face in his chest, and automatically Flip’s arms wrap around you tight. “Oh thank god I was so fucking worried about you! It’s been hours! What happened?”

You pull away enough to cup his cheeks in your hand and search his gaze, eyes wide and worried, and Flip’s chest sinks. It’s like the first Valentine’s Day all over again, he sighs to himself, feeling just as shitty now as he had when it was a disaster then.

“The car’s in the shop, I’m sorry ketsl, I tried.” Flip shrugs, not knowing what else to do, or say.

“I know handsome, I know.” You stretch up onto your tiptoes to press a deep kiss to his lips, before grasping his hand in your own and tugging the both of you out of the rain, announcing, “But I planned for this.”

“How the hell could you have planned for this?” Flip mumbles, but you just throw a smile over your shoulder to him, trying to get him into a better mood.

“I had a feeling you’d do something extravagant, and we both know how that tends to turn out – ”

“Hey.”

“So I made us a special dinner and figured we could watch those old black and white movies together like we used to do all the time. Maybe have some champagne in the bubble bath as a pregame.” You waggle a brow, as the both of you find shelter in your front room, door locked safely behind you.

Water drips from your hems onto the floor, and you reach for a very conveniently placed towel that happens to be right by the door, offering it to him.

He has never wanted to marry someone more, in his entire life, than he wants to marry you.

“Next year will be better.” He promises, kissing you sweetly, before taking you up on that promise of a bubble bath.

V is very, very extraordinary

February 14th, 1968. Flip Zimmerman is thirty-one years old and celebrating the holiday, the first Valentine’s Day together since you’ve been married, overseas.

This year was not, in any way shape or form, better.

He listens to the tape you’ve sent him, plays it over and over again just to hear your voice, hoping to drown out the harrowing experience of war just beyond his headphones. He listens to your voice, and wonders if you’re relistening to the voicemails he’s left you once upon a time, wonders if you’re having dinner with your friends, if Jimmy brought you those flowers like he had asked.  

He rewinds the tape, but he knows it’s not the same.

E is even more than anyone that you adore can

February 14th, 1972. Flip Zimmerman is thirty-five and finally back home from Vietnam. He surprises you one sunny day last summer, and the two of you are practically in each other’s back pockets every day thereafter.

There is no place Flip would rather be, than with you. To anyone who didn’t know you, it might look suspiciously lovey-dovey, but no, that’s really just how you are now. You nearly lost him over there, in the war. You went three years without him by your side – you didn’t want to be more than a foot away from him if you could manage it.

This Valentine’s Day, Flip has arranged everything so that you could do just that. He had a fantastic fucking date planned for you – nothing too fancy, but special nonetheless. It was going to be a complete throw-back, he’ll take you to the diner where they now serve the Zimmerman Special -- a combo of the sub sandwiches you always order, and a chocolate milkshake to share; you can’t get the sandwiches on their own, they have to be ordered together, something that always makes your heart flutter – and then afterwards, he got passes for the mini-golf place, one of the very first dates he had taken you on all those years ago when you were first stepping into more-than-friends territory.

You’re about ready to walk out the door, and Flip is right behind you when the phone rings.

Exchanging glances, Flip seriously is tempted to ignore the phone altogether, but you raise a brow at him and he lets out a disgruntled groan, dragging his feet over to the hallway and picking the phone up.

“Zimmerman, it’s Harry.” His boss’ voice has a tone to it that already has Flip developing a localized headache right in his temple.

“Why do you sound like you’re about to give me bad news.” Flip grumbles, and Harry just sighs.

“Because I have bad news.” Harry replies, and you already seem to know what’s coming, because you close the door with a sad sigh and step out of your shoes, “Look, I’m really sorry, but Ron just gave us some new intel, looks like the boys are having some sort of get together at the Bloomin’ Tulip, and we need you there.”

He was on this case with a rookie named Ron, something about infiltrating the local klan chapter. He wasn’t happy about it, not in the fucking least, for a lot of reasons. The men were vile, and he hated spending any more time with them than he needed to, and he had really fucking hoped that he wouldn’t need to today.

“Isn’t that a strip club?” You pipe up having overheard the name of the establishment, and Flip blinks, gearing up to start shouting at his boss.

“Flip I know it’s not how you want to spend the night but – ”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? It’s Valentine’s Day! I’m not going to a strip club with a bunch of neo-nazis on Valentine’s Day! Besides, they know I’m married.” Flip seethes, the hand that’s not holding the phone gesturing wildly even though Harry can’t see it.

You light up a cigarette and hand it to him with a kiss to his cheek, knowing he’s going to need it.

“Felix and a couple of the other guys are married too, and they’re going. I’m sorry Flip but we need to know if they’re planning anything serious.” Harry really does sound apologetic, and at the end of the day, he is Flip’s boss.

Flip looks at you, and you look back at him and give him a sad smile, encouraging him to go with a little nod of your head. You knew what you were signing up for when Flip asked your thoughts on him becoming a detective, and you had agreed all those years ago. It was part of the territory, and you weren’t about to make him feel bad for protecting the town you loved so dearly – for keeping you safe.

“When?” Flip sighs into the receiver, and he can practically feel the relief in Harry’s sigh.

“You have to be there in an hour.” Harry replies quickly, already spouting off directions and whatever other bullshit that Flip’s not listening to.

“Tell Bridges I’m pissed about this.” Flip eventually cuts him off, and hangs up the fucking phone without even so much as a goodbye.

With the phone slammed back onto the wall, Flip smokes his cigarette for a second and lets his shoulders sag. He really couldn’t catch a fucking break, could he? Turning to face you, wondering where you went, he finds you settling on the couch, your pretty coat hung up on the hook, reaching for a book to start leafing through.

“Ketsl I – ” Flip’s heart sinks, and he has half a mind to call Harry back and tell him that he isn’t going to go, but you shake your head.

“Go, it’s okay. Work is more important.” You reach a hand out for him, and he takes a few long strides over to the couch, kneels in front of you and holds it reverently between his palms.

Flip rests his head on your thigh, pressing small kisses to your knuckles, hating this.

“No, it’s really fucking not.” He grumbles, anxious about the thought of leaving you. “How about this: I’ll go for just a couple hours, make some excuse, and then come right back to you and we’ll go on that date?”

He’s really going to give Ron a hard time about this, Flip thinks, when you just pat his cheek lightly and pull out your wallet from the purse you’ve left on the coffee table.

“Do you need some singles?” You rifle through the thick stack of cash and count out roughly fifty dollars.

“Why do you have a ton of singles?” Flip frowns, confused, and the playful suspicion in his tone gets you giggling, a sound that rushes through Flip like the breaking of a dam.

“Don’t worry about it.” You reply, mock-defensively, before you roll your eyes and explain, “It’s from the bake sale, trade me for bigger bills?”

Flip kisses you, a loud smacking smooch right on your cheek, and fishes out his own wallet, not wanting to steal money from the bake sale. Whatever he spends on the case he’ll get back from the station, but still, that money was to go to the children’s hospital.

“I love you more than anything in the entire fucking world and I will be back as soon as I possibly can, I promise.” Flip rushes to say, as the clock chimes, letting him know he’s got to leave now if he wants to make it in time.

“Just go.” You smile, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. You kiss Flip once more, and then shoo him away with a parting, “And be respectful to the girls there!”

“Of course! I love you.” Flip calls back as he leaves the house, running back to give you one last kiss, before leaving for real.

Flip has nothing against strip clubs, not at all. He knows and likes pretty much all the dancers, from his days as a rookie himself when he would be the only one around the station to calls on his late night shifts. They know and trust him, and he’s thankful for that; especially when they see he’s clearly undercover, and know to keep an eye on him without making it too obvious.

The klansmen are exactly how Flip had expected them to be – obnoxious, loud, rude. They don’t tip well, spend most of the time jeering at the women and the rest of the time talking shit about their wives or girlfriends. Felix at one point asks Flip to join in, almost a dare to prove how masculine he is, how much of one of them he is, and the words burn in the back of Flip’s throat as he lies through his teeth.

He hates this, he hates them, everything is too loud and the beer is warm, and Flip’s having a terrible fucking time.

He also has no idea how much time has actually passed, because it’s too dark to see his watch, and there aren’t any clocks on the wall. At one point, Ivanhoe decides to get a little too handsy with one of the dancers, violating rule number one of the club, and gets the entire group of them thrown out. Flip had never been happier to get thrown out of an establishment in his life, and used that as an excuse to leave, claiming an early day at work in the morning.

When he gets back in his car and sees that it’s somehow after midnight, he curses the entire fucking way back home.

He opens the front door carefully, not wanting to come home making all sorts of noise in case you’re asleep. There’s an anchor in his stomach, he feels sick, he’s so fucking annoyed with how this day has gone, and all he wants is to be back with you

“(Y/N)?” Flip whispers, making his way through the house. “Are you awake? It’s me.”

He finds you on the couch right where you had been when he left, and despite the valiant effort you must have given to try and stay up for him, it’s undeniable that you’re dozing. Head resting on the arm of the couch, you’ve got your arms wrapped around one of the throw pillows, and Flip’s chest squeezes because he knows that should be him instead.

“Hmm?” You make a little noise as Flip’s arms scoop you up and hold you against his chest, turning off the lights on his way up the stairs.

“Shh, I gotcha honey-bunny.” Flip presses a kiss to the top of your head, feeling like the worst husband in the fucking world, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You snuggle into his chest some more, voice thick with sleep. “I ordered a pizza, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t, I can’t have my girl starving, can I?” Flip smiles weakly, bringing you into the bedroom and laying you gently down on the bed.

He tugs the stockings off your feet, works on unbuttoning your blouse to unhook your bra, knowing that must not have been comfortable. You, the spoiled princess that you are, don’t bother helping him, liking when he does all the work. Flip can’t even tease you for it tonight, the weight of how the holiday has been ruined heavy in his chest.

“The pizza place was cute, they made it in the shape of a heart.” You say, watching him with soft eyes.

“I’m going to make this up to you.” Flip promises, mind a little too exhausted to figure out exactly how he’s going to do that just yet.

“You’re here now, that’s what matters.” You shake your head, before groaning dramatically as you get off the bed much to Flip’s confusion, “Come on, let’s go shower.”

Flip checks the clock on the wall, it’s nearing up on one o’clock, and he’s sure a shower will just wake you up even further.

“You’re coming with me?” Flip asks, which is a stupid question because in the back of his tired mind, he knows that you always shower together.

“Well someone’s going to have to get the glitter out of your hair.” You give him a smile, and that stops Flip in his tracks.

“…Glitter?” Flip groans, yanking the bathroom door open and turning on the light switch, seeing how he’s completely and totally covered in the shimmery circles that he loathes probably more than anything for the way they never ever come off, “Aw fuck.”

You just laugh, and get the water running, and Flip feels like the luckiest sonofabitch that exists, even if he is covered in glitter.

Love is all that I can give to you

Love is more than just a game for two

Two in love can make it, take my heart and please don't break it

Love was made for me and you

February 14th, 1974. Flip Zimmerman is thirty-seven and is the proud father of two precious little angels, that he absolutely cannot fucking believe are his. Last Valentine’s Day was hectic with the kids being so little, but now that they weren’t so teenie tiny, he has arranged for them to be watched by his Ma for the evening.

She had of course agreed, because any opportunity she could spend with her grandchildren was a good one in her book, which let you and Flip have the evening alone together for the first time in a long time.

It was silly almost, how excited the two of you were to go out to a fancy steakhouse and have an expensive dinner, how hard you both laughed at the comedian that Flip had managed to get great seats for, even so far as being able to meet him after the show and get a photo with him.

You are still laughing about some of the jokes all the way back home, and Flip is trying his best not to feel cocky. Finally, after so many years of trying to have a good and special evening, he’s finally gotten to give it to you.

There’s some gifts waiting for you at the house that he can’t wait for you to open, but when he gets you through the door, you are on him like a bee on honey. Your hands don’t know where to settle, skimming across his shoulders, his chest, cupping his cheeks and tangling in his hair, desperate and excited in a way that makes Flip’s heart pound.

“You are so fucking sexy.” He breathes, crashing your lips to his, throwing the keys and your purse to the ground as he backs you against the door, as he holds you tight to him, licking into your mouth and working on getting you naked.

“Take me upstairs?” You moan as his teeth clamp down onto your shoulder and he sucks hickies all over your throat, head tipping back for him to get better access.

Flip groans, his cock rock hard in his slacks, and he smacks your ass to get you runnin’ up to the bedroom, chasing after you with a hearty laugh. He pinches at you and you squeak out laughter and yelps of your own, as he tackles you down to the mattress, mouth seeking yours at once.

“How’d I ever get so goddamn lucky, huh?” Flip shoves his hand into the waistband of your panties, two thick fingers pressing right up into your pussy, working eagerly to get you stretched and relaxed and ready for a good hard fucking, he grunts and groans as your pussy sucks his fingers deeper, “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard ketsl.”

“We have all night, I want you to make me come all over this house.” Your eyes glitter and sparkle in the lamp light of the bedroom, and he grins, feeling overheated in his clothes.

Pulling away much to your dissatisfaction, he works on getting himself naked, while you deal with your own clothes. He eyes you as you reveal yourself to him, and his dick twitches, wanting to thrust as far as it can go into your body, your perfect fucking body.  

“Oh I will, you better fucking believe I will,” He growls, yanking your ankle and pulling you across the bed with bright laughter. Flip climbs on top of you and resumes fingering you, “This pretty pussy’s in for a long night I hope you’re ready for my big hard cock.”

Your hands squeeze at his shoulders, traveling across his back, gripping him tight as your legs part and wrap around his hips. Flip lines himself up and begins to thrust inside your wet cunt, the pulsing heat throbbing around him and making him groan, the friction so good.

Moaning and sighing together, you gasp out loud as he builds up a speed that has you bouncing bouncing bouncing on the bed. He’s managed to find your gspot right away, and he wants to make good on his promise to get you fucked until you’re thoroughly and utterly wrecked – so he figures the more orgasms he can get out of you, the better.

Kissing you deeply, groaning into your mouth, he doesn’t realize how the way he’s pistoning his hips has you moving across the mattress, until you’re grasping at his shoulders with a surprised gasp, “Wait, Flip hold on we’re a little too close to the edge.”

He shakes his head and smiles down at you, wanting you to know that you’re always safe with him.

“I’ve got you baby, you don’t worry about a fucking thing – ” He starts saying, not realizing just how close you both really were, and with one particularly eager thrust, the two of you go toppling over the side entirely, landing with a loud thud on the floor.

Shit, he thinks, as he rolls off of you, scrambling to pull out and make sure you’re okay.

When he looks at you, expecting you to be laughing and scolding him and telling him all about how you were right, and instead sees a small trickle of blood across your forehead from where you’ve hit your head on the corner of the nightstand, his body runs cold.

“(Y/N)?” At once, he begs smacking lightly at your cheeks, a heaving feeling starting to rise up in his stomach as he shouts, “Oh my god, I killed my wife!”

Flip’s military training kicks in, and all he can think about is getting you to the hospital. He grabs a pair of pants off the floor and doesn’t even realize he’s put them on backwards, as he wraps you up in the sheet and runs with you down the stairs. His heart thuds and tears blur his eyes, but he swallows them down because you’re okay you have to be okay he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if you’re not fucking okay.

“Oh my god,” Flip manages to get the bleeding to stop by bunching up the sheet and pressing it against your forehead, and he keeps one hand on you as he speeds through every single red fucking light in Colorado Springs on his way to the emergency room, “Oh my god oh my fucking god.”  

The hospital isn’t too far, and thankfully him being a police officer gives him some special perks – like leaving his truck parked right on the curb as he practically kicks the doors open. He’s got you wrapped up in a sheet, carrying you bridal style with thick streams of tears pouring down his cheeks, shouting and shoving his way through the waiting room.

“Everyone out of my fucking way – can someone help my wife?” He’s frantic, must look like a fucking lunatic, but, “She won’t wake up I don’t know what to do.”

“Bring her this way, hurry!” One of the nurses who happens to recognize him buzzes him in, and he doesn’t let you out of his arms until you’re surrounded by nurses and a doctor is on the way.

He watches as they wheel you back somewhere he’s not allowed to go, not even as a police officer, and Flip punches the wall, hating that he can’t do anything else.

Twenty minutes later, one of the nurses has found him and given him a shirt, because he had forgotten to put one on in all the panic, and asked him what the hell was even going on. So he hangs his head between his knees and tries not to be sick, tears and snot hiccupping out of him.

“…And that’s when she fell over the side of the bed and smacked her head and started bleeding all over the fucking place which I know she’s going to hate because I just washed the carpeting this morning for her and fuck is she okay? Will she live?” He rambles on and on, twisting the fabric of this shirt that is too small in some places but too big in others, nervously, wondering what the fuck he’s going to tell everyone – what he’s going to tell his kids.

“Live? Trust me, she’s alive and kicking right about now.” The doc comes over then, sees the state that Flip’s in, and scoffs.

The words barely register in Flip’s mind before he’s running. He doesn’t even know where he’s running to, somewhere they’re keeping you, sticking his head into every room on the way in case it’s yours.

He finds you eventually, and relief makes his knees go weak. Rushing to your side, he carefully carefully carefully kisses you, the words spilling out of him all at once.

“(Y/N)! Oh honey-bunny I am so fucking sorry I didn’t mean for you to fall the way you did you were right I should have listened are you okay the doc told me you had to get stitches?” His eyes are wide with worry, but you have something of an amused if dazed smile on your lips as you comb your fingers through his hair.

“Hi Philly.” Your voice sounds rough, and Flip could cry, maybe he is crying, he doesn’t know, he’s just so happy to hear your voice. You nod, giving him a little sigh, “Yeah, just a couple right where I hit my head. Was I out for very long?”

“No, but then you were in so much pain they put you under while we worked.” The doc says, because how the hell would Flip know, he was having a nervous breakdown outside. Checking on the machines that you’re all hooked up to, he asks, “How do you feel now?”

“Like I was hit by a truck.” You sigh again, before turning to Flip and giving him a dreamy smile, “But you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Flip kisses you again, once twice three times right on the lips, before cupping your cheek and not looking away from you when he asks the doctor, “Does she have to stay overnight?”

The nurses come in then and begin to unhook the IV and pull all the cables away, bandaging you up nice and securely.

“No you’re free to go, there’s no blunt trauma or damage to the brain. All you have to do Mrs. Zimmerman, is rest up.” The doc pats your blanket-covered foot at the end of the bed, winking, “And take it easy in the bedroom next time.”

This has the both of you immediately embarrassed, feeling like scolded schoolchildren who got caught ditching class, instead of the grown adults you actually were. You give him a glance as if to say I can’t believe you told them how this happened, and he gives you back one as if to say I had to! I thought you died!

“Yes doctor, thank you doctor.” You cough awkwardly, covering your face and muttering to Flip once you’re sure everyone else is gone, “You think we’d get a free ice cream cone with how often we’re here, hm?”

“I’ll get you ice cream, do you want ice cream? We can stop by on the way home.” Flip kisses your hand, presses the tips of your fingers to his lips and smooches all over them, making you chuckle despite it all.

“Actually, that does sound pretty good.” You mull the thought over in your head, “Okay, just hand me my clothes and after I change we’ll go sign some paperwork and head home.”

It is then, that Flip realizes he forgot much more than his own shirt, when he had carried you up and away to the hospital. He looks around, wondering, hoping that the nurses had brought something for you instead of the little paper gown that you’re currently dressed in, but it seems that that hope was in vain.

“Oh…yeah…” He stalls, “Ketsl, about that…”

“You did not bring me to this hospital naked, did you??” For the first time in a long time, you give him an incredulous look, anger clouding over your face as you demand to know.

“Of course not!” Flip stammers, looking around for the proof that he, “I uh, wrapped you in a sheet.”

He holds the sheet up, still covered in the blood from your forehead,

“Philip Daniel Zimmerman!” You shout, covering your face and sinking back down into the bed, pulling the covers over your head as you realize in horror that he had somehow gotten you into the car naked, and carried through the lobby and the waiting room in nothing but a stained sheet, “God that’s so fucking embarrassing!”

“I love you so much, I love you more than anything in the entire world you are my one true love – ” Flip immediately drops to his knees, really lays it on thick as he winces, knowing that he really fucked this one up worse than all the other Valentine’s Days before it.

“Oh give me the fucking sheet.” You bemoan, snatching it from him and getting out of the hospital bed, taking stock of his own appearance.

He’s wearing his pants on backwards, and a shirt that you’ve literally never seen in your life. He’s got one sock on, and one is missing, no shoes in sight, and his face and hair are a travesty. The poor man looks awful, looks like he had spent the past hour bawling his eyes out, and with the redness in his eyes and around his nose, you’re sure that he has.

Despite it all, you can’t be mad at him. So, instead, you swallow your pride and wrap the sheet around your body like some long avant-garde evening gown, and sigh, “You’re so lucky I’m obsessed with you.”

And if anyone has anything to say about your combined appearances as you leave the hospital and head on your way to pick up ice cream from the drive-thru, neither of you notice, too glad to be alive and together to care.

L is for the way you look at me

O is for the only one I see

V is very, very extraordinary

E is even more than anyone that you adore can

February 14th, 1975. Flip Zimmerman is thirty-eight and he is sick and fucking tired of things getting in the way of this damn holiday. He is determined, absolutely fucking determined, to make sure you have the best day imaginable. He’s done everything right – and he means everything – to ensure victory in this long-sought-after, elusive battle.

Every Valentine’s Day disaster has been leading up to this, he thinks as he drives home from dropping the kids off with Uncle Jimmy. He will not be cooking, he will not be working, he has his truck tuned up and running smoothly, and he is on his way to you right now.

Fresh bagels, breakfast sandwiches, warm pastries and hot brewed coffee from that bakery down the street that you like are sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, and he’s going to surprise you with a perfect fucking day so help him.

When he comes back home, he arranges everything neatly on a tray and brings it up to you, smiling to himself that you haven’t woken up yet. He places the tray – decorated with a little rose in a vase and everything – on the dresser, and settles next to you, petting back your hair from your face.

“(Y/N),” He whispers, trying to bring you out of sleep, “Honey-bunny, wake up.”

“Mmmmorning.” You beam up at him, reaching your arms up for a hug, that he is more than happy to give.

“Hungry? I brought you breakfast.” He kisses you with a smile.

With that, you push yourself to sit up against the headboard and regard him lovingly as he leaves your side and brings the tray over. He settles it over your lap and gestures to the assortment of fresh and delicious looking breakfast choices for you to pick from, but you first lift the little rose up to your nose and give it a deep sniff, happily sighing.

“I thought something smelled good, have you been gone long?” You kiss his cheek and pat the spot next to you so he can lay in bed too, so he does, picking up a muffin and doing his best to not get crumbs all over the sheets.

“About an hour, I didn’t want to bother you on your special day.” Flip sidles up next to you and lights a cigarette, and you rest your head on his shoulder as you smile at him through the reflection of the mirror on your dresser.

“My special day huh?” You tease, knowing the track record for when Flip tries to plan something extravagant.

“Yeah, for real this time.” He’s so determined, so fucking determined, everything is going to go right if it’s the last fucking thing he does, but he doesn’t say all that.

You still hear it anyway.

“Do I get to know what we’re doing?” You prompt sweetly, almost convinced of the fact that it’s because he tries to keep things a surprise, that it all goes badly.

Flip must think so too, because he’s sighing and rolling his eyes, unhappy about spoiling the day but knowing it’s probably for the best.

“Yes, I got us a couple’s spa package. I know things have been difficult with the littles toddling around, and you do so much for them and for me, so today is all about pampering you.” He announces, and you let out a loving little squeak from the back of your throat as you aww at him, making him blush.

“That’s very very sweet, thank you honey.” You beam, excited about the prospect of a professional massage, especially because he was right; you loved your children with your entire heart but having two under two was a bit hectic at times.

“Don’t thank me yet – I don’t want to jinx anything.” Flip is quick to say, and you laugh because you know how he must be feeling right about now.

After breakfast and some lazy lovemaking in bed, the afternoon light shines brightly as you and Flip arrive at the spa.

It’s a real fancy place, the kind with a big water feature right on the wall that makes the entire lobby feel serene and luxurious. Flip is halfway expecting something to go wrong – he keeps bracing for it. But as the nice women at the front desk bring you into the couple’s massage room, everything seems to be going off without a hitch.

Hot stones are all the rage, and so for the next sixty minutes, you and Flip enjoy the peaceful quiet and mood music as the knots in your muscles vanish. Afterwards, they put some kind of mud mask on both of your faces, and add little slices of cucumber over your eyes. You both sit like that for a good while, as you’re each given a manicure and pedicure.

You get your favorite color of polish done, and Flip just asks for a clear coat, wanting his nails to look nice but not necessarily colorful. It’s fun, Flip decides, being pampered with you. Maybe this could become more of a regular thing, he sure as shit could use those hot stones now and again after a long fuckin’ week of stakeouts or pouring over paperwork.

By the time you emerge from the spa, it’s practically evening. You suggest going back home, but Flip has other plans – namely, to keep you out of the house for a little while longer. He brings you to a pizza spot that you remember fondly from your days of dating Flip back when he was working at the family mill he now owns, going out for a slice and a cola and kissing in one of the red booths in the back.

Everything is exactly the same, except everyone’s a little older, but the pizza and the company are still great. Flip can’t help but kiss you, even though you’re not in the red booth in the back, but no one seems to mind anymore. It’s been years and years of this, of Flip loving you, they’re all used to it.

Flip chucks a couple quarters into the jukebox and the two of you dance on the black and white checkerboard like you’re the only two people in the entire pizza joint, because when you’re together, it feels like you are. It feels like you’re the only two people in the entire world.

The clock strikes seven, and he knows the coast should be clear at the house by now, so he brings you home and tries not to act too suspicious. You call him out on it, but he refuses to say, manages to keep his big mouth shut the whole way home, until you’re opening the front lock and pushing the door open to reveal a romantic wonderland.

Ron and Jimmy had been working tirelessly the past two hours, blowing up heart shaped balloons, arranging big bouquets of your favorite flowers and roses of all different colors, and a thick trail of rose petals that led up the stairs to your bedroom.

Speechless, you clasp a hand over your mouth and give him a look, impressed and surprised, and Flip can only grin.

“Go up, there’s more.” He whispers, kissing you on the cheek and patting your ass playfully.

Following the trail of rose petals, you push open the bedroom door and your heart fills with so much love and appreciation for your husband, because on the bed are some carefully wrapped boxes with white satin ribbon bows just for you, along with a giant teddy bear, a bucket of ice and a bottle of expensive champagne, and your favorite kinds of chocolate.

“You are so good, you know that?” You whirl around and practically jump into Flip’s arms, hugging him and attacking his face with kisses, making him smug as shit, but rightfully so.

“Want to open them?” He offers, but you’re so overwhelmed by it all in the best way possible, you just keep hugging him.

“Oh Flip – I will, but first, please, please fuck me?” You bat your lashes up at him, suddenly desperate to feel his body against yours, desperate to feel him in and around you.

Flip hadn’t expected that right away, but that doesn’t deter him. He quickly scrambles to get everything off the bed and onto the floor or up on the dresser, and is back to you within a few moments, kissing you deeply, working to get your clothes off with a deep chuckle in the back of his throat.

“Yes, shit you’re so pretty, my pretty girl.” He scoops you up and drops you onto the bed, wrestles with you a little until you’re laughing and grinning at him, his mouth smacking smooches to your lips as he demands, “C’mere.”

“Please don’t let me fall off the side of the bed this time.” You grip his biceps and he flushes a deep embarrassed red, but brings your attention to the floor where the accident had happened all that time ago.

“One step ahead of you, ketsl.” He gestures to a series of plush pillows that he had lined up on either side of the floor by the nightstands so that if you were to fall – which he’s going to make sure you never ever do again – you’d land on something soft, “A perfectly padded landing platform.”

That is the final thing holding you back from pulling him down by his shoulders on top of you, and Flip happily goes, happily settles you underneath him, eagerly slides the head of his cock through your folds. Your pussy grows wet under his touch, and it’s not long before you’re whining for him to really give it to you, so he does – oh fuck, he does.

Lifting your hips with one of his strong hands, Flip lets your legs wrap around his waist as he thrusts shallowly in small motions, wanting to get you stretched and relaxed as he sinks his cock deeper into you, making you moan, your eyes rolling back into your head when he bottoms out in your hot cunt.

“Oh! Oh yes, right there, right – yes!” You gasp as he begins to fuck you in earnest, holding your legs up and bending your body in just the right way to give him deeper action, stronger penetration that has you gasping.

Your back arches and your toes curl just from the feeling of being so full, your head tossed to the side as your hands twist in the pillowcase underneath your head, reaching up to grip the headboard that begins to shake and smack against the wall as Flip moves his hips faster and faster.

“Look at me?” He doesn’t like that he can’t see your face though, with the way you’re tucked against your arm, so he reaches for it and grips your jaw, pulls you to look at him. Your eyes are already unfocused and glassy but you’ve got the brightest smile on your face, that drops into a beautiful perfect O as he pounds into your pussy, “Fuck, you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen, you know that? I feel like I don’t tell you enough.”

“Tell me again.” You tease, biting your lip and shaking under him, opening your hips and letting him fuck over your gspot with wild abandon, voice wobbling from the effort, “I didn’t hear you.”

“You’re – so – yes! – fucking – beautiful – oh god,” Flip groans long and low as you clench around his cock, your pussy fluttering and pulsing, the tight we velvet heat sucking him in and never letting him go, making Flip’s ears ring with pleasure, “Do that thing again ketsl, do it.”

You do as he says, and your cunt clamps down hard on him, making fucking you even sweeter, the friction driving him insane, making him grind his cock as deep into you as it can go. You can feel it knocking against your cervix and you whine out in pleasure, tears from overstimulation pricking up at the corners of your eyes, clinging to your pretty lashes.

“Flip! Ohhhhh Flip, that’s so good,” You praise him, only spurring him on, making him sweat sweat sweat all over you, dripping sweat down onto your perfect fucking tits that he just cannot not kiss and lave his tongue over and suck on, “Your cock is so good honey, fuck me harder, please!”

“No, I’m gonna take my time with you, make you fall apart, make this pussy soaking wet by the time I’m done with you.” Shaking his head, Flip pulls one of your nipples into his mouth and makes you moan high and loud, and Flip doesn’t even stop when your body confuses him for the baby, and sweet milk floods his mouth.

“H-honey! Right there, right there just a little faster? Please just a little f-faster -- ah!” You’re crying now, your thighs shaking, feet kicking out your pleasure, one of your hands gripped tight in his hair and yanking hard, making him come a little into your cunt, making him never want to stop.

“I should tie you up, keep you right here under me where you belong,” Flip pulls off your nipple and grips your jaw, “Tell you how fucking pretty you look taking my big Jew dick – suck.”

Slipping a few fingers into your mouth to wet them and let them rub against your tongue, gagging you, making the sweetest choking noises spill from your throat as you try to moan and suck at the same time, Flip’s mind blanks out entirely with pleasure, a static sort of hum singing through his body as your pussy pins him and holds him.

“I-I-I’m --!” You wail, and that’s his cue to pull the fingers out of your mouth, drool stringing from your lip to his knuckles, and finds your clit, rubbing steady circles that have your body jackknifing up, tensing up and cry cry crying his name.

“That’s it ketsl, let it out, shh I know it’s good.” He massages your clit slowly, milking it as he fucks you through your orgasm, licks up the tears and sweat on your face, kisses you deeply, passionately.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop honey!” You beg, trembling against his lips, and Flip wouldn’t dare go against those wishes, not for anything.

You don’t know how many hours pass, before Flip comes in you for the final time. He crashes down onto the bed next to you, chests heaving, bodies sticky with sweat and come and tears of pleasure, of overstimulation, of love.

The night is still young, you still have to open your presents and drink your champagne and all, but for now, all he wants to do is gather your beautiful naked body into his arms and kiss you, so that’s exactly what he does.

“Fuck.” He grunts as his muscles which had been so loose from the spa day, are now burning with all the exertion. He kisses you and pinches your nose, asking with too much hope, “Good?”

“Really good.” You promise him, cupping his cheek with a pleasure-weak hand and kissing him again and again and again, until he’s smiling. You laugh and stretch a little, your entire body made of jell-o, and joke, “At this rate, we’ll be three for fuckin’ three years in a row.”

“Would that be so bad?” Flip thinks of the kids that should be fast asleep by now, and his chest grows warm.

You duck your head bashfully, feeling so loved and cared for and wanted by your husband. You always do, truly, but you can’t deny that it feels a little more special today.

“I gotta say, Flip,” You turn to face him and prop your head up on your bent elbow, “You really knocked it out of the park this time.”

If there were a Heaven, this would be it, Flip thinks as joy and elation course through his veins. He grins and punches the air with happiness, feeling like he suddenly has the energy for a victory lap around the property. You laugh at how display of theatrics, and he surges up then, wrestles with you playfully and nips at your jaw with his teeth, finally finally finally having succeeded in something he had tried for over a decade to do.

“Would you mind saying that again?” Flip echoes your earlier sentiment with cheeky sarcasm, “I didn’t hear you.”

And you can only laugh and tell him again and again, wanting him to know that you have had a wonderful, a perfect, a beautiful Valentine’s Day, not just this year, but every year that you’ve been together.

Love is all that I can give to you

Love is more than just a game for two

Two in love can make it, take my heart and please don't break it

Love was made for me and you

Love was made for me and you

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

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

Tagging some pals! Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed :) @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag  @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions  @direnightshade  @reyloaddict55  @thembohux  @kylorenswhxre  @sunflowersinthesnow  @babayagakeanu  @safarigirlsp  @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks  @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief  @materialisthicc  @drake-bells-waxed-penis @dutchiepie @slut-for-harri  @littleevilme13 @erys-targaryen @leillaa @hswritingrecs @miabelay11 @han68000​

[ijustwant2write]

A Little Secret-Alfie Solomons x Reader (Part 3/?)

(GIF credit to @fockingshelby​)

Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2

Tags: @haphazardhufflepuff​ @mollybegger-blog​ @broitsriah​ @maryan028​ @peakascum​ @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @jenepleurepasbaby​ @amirahiddleston​ @bloodorangemoonlight​ @mzcrazy2​ @br0ck-eddie​

Summary: After Alfie’s outburst, he has been avoiding Izzy, not wanting to face up to his disappointment. However, Izzy thinks the exact opposite, but of course, she doesn’t do anything to amend the situation. She too keeps out of his way, thinking she’ll only make him more angry, until they both receive a letter.

Characters: Alfie Solomons x OC!Reader, Ollie x OC!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, arguing, shouting, crying, trauma, low self esteem issues

                                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izzy heard something be pushed through the letterbox as she buttered her toast, wiping her buttery hand on a tea towel before going to retrieve it. She hardly got post, all of the time it would be bills, but today was different. It was in a crisp, white envelope with fancy handwriting, it even had a seal on the back. She inspected the wax, trying to figure out who it was from. Izzy had no friends, no family, which meant that this made her heart race in fear rather than anticipation. It opened without ripping and she took out the neatly folded letter. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she read it.

Dear Isabelle,

You are cordially invited to the opening of ‘The Blue Note’.

We have recently taken ownership before refurbishing, giving the club a completely new look and fresh feel. The evening will commence at 7.00PM where music and beverages will be provided. 

Please RSVP to the return address labelled on the envelope. We await for your reply with anticipation.

Kind regards,

Thomas Shelby

Shelby Company Limited

Izzy had no clue who Thomas Shelby was, or why he had invited her to a club opening. If her name hadn’t been addressed at the top, she would think it was just a businessman’s idea to bring in customers. This couldn’t be a coincidence, not after everything that was happening that week. She read it again as she finished her toast, noticing that it was almost time for her to go once she finished eating.

The morning at work went by as usual, time moving swiftly as Izzy completed her tasks alongside everybody else. It had been three days since the incident of her being locked up, and Alfie had avoided her like the plague. Although Izzy had wanted to speak with him, explain that she wasn’t upset with his actions, she knew she would never have the confidence to do so. Like always, she let life pass her by and decide her fate, rather than take control of it herself.

“Izzy,” Ollie got her attention, shoving a pile of letters into her hands,“need you to take these to Alfie, now.”

“I can’t!” Izzy protested, hating that Ollie was already walking away.“He doesn’t want to speak to me.”

“Then don’t speak, just drop off the letters.”

Ollie disappeared around the corner, causing Izzy to tense up, clutching onto the letters. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to look at Alfie’s office door, seeming more daunting than usual. Wanting to get it over with, she picked up the pace, finding herself in front of the door quicker than she expected. Knocking swiftly, Izzy could feel her heart rate increase as she was called in.

Of course Alfie knew it was her by the sound of the knock. He still wanted to keep away from Izzy, not wanting to risk upsetting her more than he already had. When she had cried out his name and ran after him after he punched that fucker, he had hated how that chipped away at him. She was his weakness, and no one else could see that. Noticing how she kept her head down, quickly placing the letters on his desk before turning around.

“Izzy.” he grumbled. 

She froze, glancing over her shoulder.

“I don’t have enough fucking time to sort through this. Do you mind reading them for me?”

She fully turned around, nodding before taking a seat. The first two letters weren’t of any importance to Alfie, he dismissed them after the starting sentence. But the next letter Izzy picked up was familiar to her, and Alfie noticed this.

“You like the look of that one?” he asked in a monotone voice.

“It’s just...” she mumbled.“I’m sure this is the same as the one I received this morning.”

That perked Alfie up.“What?”

She began opening it, recognising the wax seal.“Yeah, it is. It’s an invitation.”

Alfie held out his hand to take it, holding his glasses with his other hand as he read it. He looked confused at first, until he saw the signed name at the bottom, fury filling his body at the thought of Thomas Shelby knowing everything about Izzy.

“You’re not going.” he stated, carelessly throwing the paper on the desk.

“You know I’m not a big fan of clubs anyway.”

“You don’t reply to him, you don’t open anymore letters from him, and you go no where near that club!”

“Mr Solomons, I wasn’t going to-”

“He shouldn’t know about you.”

“Who? Who is Thomas Shelby?”

“He’s the business associate that visited, when that man got shot.”

“How does he know where I live?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you...do you think he wants to hurt me?”

Alfie said nothing, abruptly standing from his chair and storming to his office door. Leaning out of it, he yelled out Ollie’s name, harshly slamming the door again which caused Izzy to flinch. She shouldn’t have mentioned the letter, she was in trouble now, it wasn’t like she was going to go to the club anyway. 

Ollie knocked before entering, sensing the tension in the room as he glanced between his boss and friend. Alfie shoved the letter into Ollie’s hands, his eyes widening as he read it. What was Thomas Shelby’s plan here? He knew Alfie’s temper was short, and he knew that Izzy meant a lot more to than man than he wanted to let on. This wasn’t good, Izzy shouldn’t even be near this place, she never should have been in the first place. Alfie whispered in Ollie’s ear, it was so quiet to ensure that Izzy wouldn’t catch one word of it. 

“Mr Solomons?” Izzy piped up as Ollie left. She tried to make eye contact, but he left swiftly.

“You’re going home now, collecting as many of your things as possible, and letting the lads take you somewhere to stay.” he demanded.

“I’m sorry?”

“Ollie and a few lads are going to drive you home. If you need extra cases, I can get ya’ some-”

“Why am I packing my belongings?”

“Cause you’re staying in an old place of mine, somewhere where no one will find you.”

“W-why? Mr Solomons, what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain once you’re safe.”

“Please Mr Solomons,” Izzy stood, catching his attention and stopping him from pacing,“I need to understand what’s happening. You can’t just cart me about and kick me out of my home!”

She was scared, it was evident all over her face. Alfie didn’t want to tell her. He wanted to hide her away from it all until it was all over, keep her safe until he had shot all those bastards dead. 

Ollie popped his head through the door.“Cars ready Alfie.”

“Please Alfie.” Izzy hardly used his first name.

“Go.”

Izzy’s mind was screaming at her to defend herself, keep begging for an answer. Something dangerous was going on here, and she was near, if not in, the centre of it all. Why couldn’t she just be like any other normal person? They would at least have the decency to raise their voice. But she was weak. She always had been, it would never change. Quickly turning away from Alfie, she hunched up as she brushed past Ollie. There wasn’t anything she could do to go against him.

Staying silent in the car, Izzy had her hands clasped together, squished between two burly men Alfie had entrusted her safety in. Ollie was driving with another man in the passenger seat. No one was in the mood for conversation, not that Izzy would ever be able to hold one with any of them; Ollie was the only one she had ever spoken to for more than two minutes. 

“Be quick as you can Izzy, we need to get you to the safe house.” Ollie advised as they entered her home, two men staying beside the car as the other two checked around the back of her house.“You need me to grab anything for you down here?”

“Um...” it was incredibly hard to think of all your possessions off the top of your head.“No, thank you, Ollie. I...I think everything I need is upstairs.”

Izzy had emptied all of her drawers and wardrobe into the cases she had, though she didn’t own that many clothes anyway. There weren’t any valuable items laying about, though there was one thing she had to save. Kneeling on the floor, Izzy reached underneath her bed, feeling around for the chipped floorboard. Once found, she silently lifted it, reaching inside for the last letters her mother wrote her, as well as the necklace she’d had since she moved there...it had been gifted by a certain someone. 

“Where are we going Ollie? Where’s this safe house? I don’t mind walking to work, I just want to know how far away it is.” Izzy asked as she struggled to carry her cases downstairs.

He quickly took them off her, though hid how heavy they were.“Um, Alfie will explain once we’re there.”

“Mr Solomons will be there?”

“Please Izzy, just do what he’s told you so neither of us get in trouble.”

He didn’t mean to snap, but Izzy knew by now not to question everything. Sometimes her staying silent was the best option. Ollie handed over her cases to the men to load into the car, waiting for her to lock up. She took out her keys, looking up at the tiny, terraced house she had lived in for so many years. It seemed dramatic, but being away from the only place she felt comfort, the only place she could control the look of, it made her uneasy, especially because she didn’t know how long she would be away from it.

The car ride indicated that this safe house was certainly further away than Izzy would have liked. Ollie was secretly glad that the other men were here, it stopped her from asking questions. He didn’t actually know the full story, he didn’t know why Alfie was taking such big precautions; and he was being made to drive through the slums into the countryside, the city slowly being left behind. Firstly the houses started to get bigger and further away from each other, they went from blocks of flats, terraced, before becoming semi-detached. The streets started to look cleaner, as did the people walking them. Instead of homeless men and prostitutes lining the streets, women out for afternoon strolls with their babies in prams chatted away to each other, and old couples enjoyed their retirement together. Izzy held back a smile as she peeked out of the window, having only imagined places like this when she read her books.

Unfortunately, the awkwardness remained in the car for another twenty minutes, all of them secretly relieved when they pulled up at another house. It wasn’t a place that homed people full of riches, though they certainly weren’t poor. Driving down a back alley, they parked outside a small, semi-detached house. The other house beside it had a boarded up door and windows, with overgrown ivy all over it.

“This belongs to Mr Solomons?” Izzy asked as they all exited the car.

“Apparently so. I was as shocked as you are.” Ollie said before instructing the others to take her cases inside.

As they stepped inside, they saw that it was minimally decorated, though that didn’t surprise them. There were a few cobwebs about the place, as well a dust that had settled on top of surfaces. But with a quick clean up, it could look homely. It hadn’t been lived in for a while, the floorboards creaked from the new weight (that was something Izzy was both thankful and upset about, she could hear if anyone was in the house, but then again, that would mean someone was in the house). 

“Izzy?” Ollie called to her as she explored the kitchen. Her head showed up in the doorway.“They’ve put your things upstairs.”

“Thank you.” she meekly said, going back into the kitchen until she saw Ollie leaving.“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, the men will stay though, to guard you.”

She scurried down the hallway to him, standing in the doorway as he continued walking.“What am I meant to do?”

“Settle in. Alfie will be here soon, maybe you could clean up the house?” he was joking, but that didn’t resonate with Izzy.

“Do you know what’s going on? With any of this?”

He sighed, approaching her so the others wouldn’t hear.“I’m sorry Izzy, I don’t know anything. If I did, I promise I would tell you. Alfie has instructed me to bring you here, and said he’ll be coming to see you today.”

“Oh...right.”

“Izzy, you’ll be absolutely safe here, we’re prepared for anything...I didn’t mean...not that anything will happen. I’m going to go before I say anything else.”

After Ollie left, she locked the door with the keys left for her, wishing there were more locks. She was in a small state of shock. Her life was being controlled, all because of something that she had no idea about. The only thing she could do now was as Ollie said, settle in. She was disturbed by the dust everywhere, heading into the kitchen to find a duster and other cleaning supplies. Her own belongings could wait. Covering her mouth with a handkerchief, Izzy still coughed and sneezed, her eyes watering. The house was modest for what rooms it held. It had a front room, a kitchen, a bathroom, two bedrooms and a small garden. It was more than what Izzy had ever had, and it was properly furnished. But you knew no one had been living here.

“Izzy?” Alfie’s voice made her jump. She had just finished dusting in the bedroom her cases were.“Izzy, where are you?”

Removing the handkerchief from her mouth, she brushed off the dust that had fallen onto her dress as she made her way down the stairs. Alfie was stood at the bottom, watching her. In that moment, he couldn’t help but think...no, he shouldn’t be thinking things like that, they would never come true.

“What you think then?” Alfie sniffed.

“It’s a lovely house, Mr Solomons.”

“Won it in a bet didn’t I? Didn’t know it would come in handy one day. Tea?”

She followed him into the kitchen, starting to boil the water as he sat down at the table big enough for four people. He glanced around the place, trying to distract himself from how Izzy looked like the perfect housewife in that moment. No one spoke as the tea brewed. Izzy wanted to ask questions, but she knew she had to be grateful for whatever Mr Solomons was protecting her from. And Alfie didn’t want to say anything stupid, he thought she was still angry with him. Once the tea was ready, Izzy focused on keeping a steady hand as poured it into two cups. The tension was building more and more by the second, she didn’t want to make matters worse by pouring boiling water onto your boss’ crotch.

“You’re probably confused.” Alfie said, taking a sip of the drink.

Izzy sat beside him, leaving her cup.“Yes, I am.”

“I’m just being over cautious Iz, can’t risk anything.” 

“About what?”

He rubbed his eyes with one hand, sighing loudly.“That letter you received, it’s from Thomas Shelby.Do you know who he is?”

Izzy shook her head.

“I hoped you wouldn’t. But I’ve got to tell you in order for all of this to make sense. He’s the leader of this gang, right, this gang from Birmingham. They call themselves the Peaky Blinders, due to the razors they sew into their caps. It’s, it’s barbaric if you ask me.”

“And, this gang, they want to hurt me?”

“Nah, nah, not that I know of. But he’s becoming a powerful man. He’s proven that by finding out who you are and where you live.”

“You don’t think they had anything to do with the man who harassed me in the street?”

“Nah, but he’s up to something.”

“So...so what do we do now?”

“You’re going to stay here, until that’s figured out.”

“But how am I supposed to get to work? I mean, it’s no problem for me to walk, I just know it’s further away-”

“You’re not going to walk to work, because you’re not going to work Izzy.”

“But, how am I supposed to earn money? What am I going to do here?”

“I’ll still pay you. Think of it as holiday pay. A holiday where you can’t leave the house.”

“What?”

“No one knows you round here Izzy, but you can’t let anyone see you here. That’s why it’s good that the house is tucked away with no neighbours.”

“But I could be stuck here for ages.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you, you like being alone.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, you keep to yourself, you don’t have any friends, what’s wrong with staying in here?”

“Because I’m trapped!”

Alfie hadn’t expected her to protest.“You’re not fucking trapped! You’re safe!”

“Safe from what? You won’t tell me!”

“What’s got into you? You’re never like this.”

“Because...because maybe I’m scared! You’re not telling me anything Mr Solomons-”

Alfie stood from his chair, coming off more demeaning as he towered over her.“Why do you always call me that? We’ve known each other since we were children! You never say my name!”

Izzy shrunk into her seat, hands gripping the side of the chair in fear.“I-I...You’re my boss, I-”

“That makes no difference! Oh for fucks sake, Izzy, we’re practically the same age!”

Izzy ducked her head, too scared to look at him.“I’m sorry, Mr Sol-Al-Alfie!”

Alfie realised how he looked to her, but his stubbornness got in the way. Instead of apologising like she should have, and wanted to, he kept going, somehow thinking that scaring her more would make her want to stay.

“Just do as you’re told. It’s not like anyone is going to notice you’re gone. I’m doing this for you, some fucking gratitude would be nice.”

But as soon as he saw the tears in her eyes, he hated himself. How was he supposed to know how to talk to women? Let alone comfort them! Izzy meant a dear amount to him, which is why he hated himself right now. He knew this woman for most of his life, why couldn’t he read her? Not knowing what else to say, Alfie left the shocked woman behind, heading out and past the men he put in place. They pretended they hadn’t heard any of their shouting.

Izzy didn’t move for another few minutes, scared that something else might happen. Alfie slamming the door didn’t help, causing her to flinch, a small yelp escaping her mouth. Once she was certain he was gone, the tears fell freely and silently, not wanting to make any noise, with only one thought circling her mind.

Why am I so weak?

[snapefiction]

Someone who appreciates me Pt. 1 - Snapefiction

A/N: Hey! Thank you to everyone who supports my writing. I just recently reached 200 Followers after not even full two Months of starting this Blog and I couldn't be happier that you enjoy my writing. In hopes that you'll like this one too! x

(I tried to use gender neutral Pronouns and Descriptions at first but sadly lost the track of it so it slipped back to a fem!Reader. I'm sorry, I am trying to learn and do better next time.)

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Pairing: Severus Snape x Y/N, Severus Snape x fem!Reader

Setting: 3-4 Years after the Battle of Hogwarts

Warnings: Mentions of Insults

Word count: 2871

Y/N - Your Name, Y/L/N - Your Last Name, Y/W/A - Your wished Age, Y/B/M -Your Birthday Month

Someone who appreciates me - Pt. 1

,,Dear Professor, As you may know Minerva can be very consistent of certain things. One of these Certain Things seem to be the fact that we both are (if all my given Informations are correct) not currently in a relationship. I do not want to pressure you to read my letter or even answer it but i´d be very thankful if you’d at least let Minerva know about what your intentions are. Since a long time now- to be exact 7 Months and 3 days - she started to play my personal Matchmaker and I’m very sorry that you seem to be chosen by this fate that she gave us as well. So by Merlins Sake I’m going with her wish in hope Minerva may be Satisfied by it.

My Name is Y/N Y/L/N. I´ m currently working for the Ministry but will be switching to the St. -Mungos Hospital soon to continue to work as a Healer. I am Y/W/A years old and will be turning Y/W/A on Y/B/M. I live near the Diagon Alley. I despite the idea of introducing myself to someone else like I just did. It feels like I am exposing myself.

In my free time -which has gotten very rare over the years - I enjoy reading, drinking tea and going on walks. It’s not very much, actually it’s nothing, but it makes me happy. I’m a simple Woman.

Since this is the most awkward Thing I have done in a while i will end this letter down here. In hopes that you’re well and have a great day.

Yours sincerely Y/N YL/N”

Sighing he turned the Letter to look at the sealing. It must’ve sent directly from their workplace as they even used the official seal from the ministry itself for this use. He had to admit that he was lonely. Very indeed but Minerva was taking it too far by now. She tried to set him up a few times yet but he never really went with it. But now that she persuaded another Person to send him a letter directly to his workplace he was fed up. Pity grew in his stomach as he imagined what Minerva must’ve said about him to the other Person. She was always exaggerating about him, his past life and everything from the present. She  mothered and did everything to fuss over him since he was a Student at Hogwarts himself and yes, he had to admit it, he liked it sometimes. Enjoying their annual Tea each Sunday it was alright having her as a Friend. Especially after the Dark Lord passed and he finally got rid of the pressure of hiding. But her well trained skill to brew a perfect tea won’t make up that she tried to play a constant matchmaker for him. 

A deep Sigh left his throat as he sorted his Thoughts. Whatever he’d try to say would lead to a discussion about why she wants him to meet that Person so dearly. It was always a repeating scheme. Getting up from the wooden Chair which could need a replacement he took the letter in his one hand before heading to her chambers.

The Parchment burned in his Hands. Deciding on how he’d like to drop the bomb that he’d prefer to stay alone he kept walking faster. To be honest, he would never admit that towards Minerva nor anyone else and not even himself, he loved the idea of founding a family. He always imagined it as a great Joy since his own family was rather a decent disaster. But he knew what the Newspaper wrote about him after he survived, he knew what rumours go around at the Ministry, he knew how People still degraded him and how everyone secretly was checking twice if he wasn’t secretly still a death eater. He knew, felt and saw it everyday. So it just wasn’t meant to be for him to become the man he dreamt about in private. Maybe i should go back to Cokeworth, get a dog and dedicate my life to the science.

Before he could continue his daydream of vanishing from his current world he reached the door leading to Minerva´s private rooms. Knocking he already knew she was there because the heat from inside and the smell of tea already reached his nose.

After a few seconds he heard her mumbling and finally opening the shrieking door.

,,Severus, my dear. What is it?“ A warm smile formed on her face. He just tried to keep his cold face as he hoped it’d get him further in the argument that he tried to start to prove his point. Silently holding up the Parchment he pointed the wax seal directly towards her.

,,Is it from Y/N?" Her eyes shined brightly and she was already asking him inside as her hands took the letter and she moved her tall figure aside to let him in.

,,Of course it is." He mumbled while making his way over to his usual seat. Watching her reaction as she read the Letter he wished to vanish. It was simply embarrassing.

,,Oh, she can't be serious. I told her to tell you something about herself."

,,She did!" He pleaded.

,,No she didn't! She just talked about me. Oh! The two of you match perfectly. You both are very self conscious about what you are and what you deserve or in general on how to communicate." She went to the kitchen to get kettle.

,,You're just mad that we don't want to play along with your plans." Mumbling Severus knew that she heard every whisper.

,,No you're just mad that I told her about you." Rolling his eyes he watched her setting down the kettle and filling him a cup of tea.

,,I don't need a Relationship." Stating his Fact he hoped it could bury the Topic finally.

,,I know. But it wouldn't harm you as well." Taking a sip from the still brewing water tea mixture he wondered how she wasn't burning herself.

,,Can you just stop setting those things up?" Now it was her who rolled their eyes. ,,Only if you give it one first and one last try. Y/N is very kind."

,,Kindness isn't everything. Her Letter wasn't very tempting."

,,Merlin, if you start judging people over their Kindness I'll lose my mind. You aren't very charming yourself, you twit."

,,You call me a Twit?"

,,You're clearly a Twit."

,,Stinky Witch." Shrugging her shoulder she hid her smile behind her cup of tea before downing it almost completely. ,,One date and I'll stop for good."

,,Do you promise?"

,,I solemnly swear. If this won't work out then you might be a helpless case." Ignoring her spur he gave in. Again.

,,Fine." And so it came that he drank his tea and they chatted about something else. Their Friendship had their own charm. But before Severus could leave to go back to his own Rooms Minerva put the Parchment in his Hands and told him with a warm smile to write back.

It didn't work out like he planned. Actually it was the opposite. He wanted to burn the Letter and forget that it had happened but if it was the only way to get rid of any unwanted dates, matches etc. he would actually give it a chance. Unbelievable. He'd really write Y/N back.

Since it was almost midnight he decided that it was time to continue his paperwork. He couldn't fall asleep until three A.M. anyways if he was able to fall asleep in general. After answering a lot of Letters, correcting some Works and finally writing down what he had to get from his next visit at Diagonal Alley he couldn't stop his mind from wandering to his new acquaintance living there. Wasn't she repelled by his ruined reputation?

Rereading her Letter he was wondering what a type of person she was. How did she look like? What made Minerva think that they'd be a great Match? In his Mind he was starting to puzzle a picture of someone he'd expect to write to. Of what he'd expect someone nice to be and act like. To his surprise it wasn't anything close to Lily. Not at all. It was almost the completely opposite. Bewildered he laid down his feather. He almost hasn't noticed how he started to mindlessly write all the attributes down that he was hoping to find in Y/N.

Nice but not foolish. Intelligence. A dry sense of humor. Challenging. Special. Complementary. Appreciative. Pretty Eyes. A soothing voice. Someone who appreciates work. Someone who appreciates me?

Eyeing the Clock he noticed that it was already past 4 am. Again he was completely loosing his track of time. Packed by the idea of finding something of those attributes in her he grabbed a paper and his feather.

His enthusiasm quickly faded. What was he supposed to say? What did she knew about him? His wide eyes and his raised eyebrows scaled down a bit. This grew to be more complicated than he anticipated.

,,Y/N, I'm sorry that Minerva grew this Mania about you as well. I have known her for a long time by now and can confirm to you that despite all her promises she won't stop setting things up. It seems like it became one of her dearest ways of passing time.

Not knowing of what she has told you about my person I will just start formally.

My Name is Severus Snape. Currently I am still preoccupied as the head of house of Slytherin at Hogwarts. And due to latest events I won't return to teaching soon or anytime again. Most of my time I look out to keep myself busy with science studies, working and reading.

To be completely honest, I promised Minerva to write back as she promised me in return to stop setting any acquaintance with me. Also I feel uncomfortable introducing myself as well. I prefer Meetings.

Yours faithfully Severus Snape"

After his eyes read the letter multiple times he finally got himself to seal it. Watching the wax cool down he noticed how much he hoped that she could at least fulfil on of the attributes he was looking for. Hope? Don't make a fool out of yourself. She will probably loose her interest soon.

But she didn't. He sent his Letter around 4:50 am and already at 8am after he slept 2 full hours she sent her response. Not truly believing his eyes that Y/N was answering and not someone who would want to mess with him he quickly opened it. This Time the Seal was a different one. One that contained her Initials.

,,Dear Severus, Taking it from your response I anticipate that we are on first name base now? If that's so completely fine with that.

Reading your Letter I had to laugh. Minerva is simply one of a Kind and somehow I feel very reliefed that you're as uncomfortable as I am.

Maybe that's a great opportunity to admit that I already know a lot about you. Minerva is very chatty and as you probably already are aware of your Name is very well known and greatly appreciated. And by that I don't mean that that's the Reason why I decided to write you but I mean that I'm impressed by you. I actually chose to follow Minerva's will to contact you because she introduced you as a very kind, intelligent and somewhat funny Man. And despite the fact that I am happy by being alone I can't deny that the idea of meeting someone like you was interesting me. Someone who Minerva introduced as a great Friend. This may sound cheesy but you deserved to get known to my intentions.

You mentioned that you prefer Meetings. What about a Meeting at the Three Broomsticks? I bet you know a lot funny stories about Minerva which I'm not aware of yet. Name a Time and Day and I'll be there. And if it makes you more comfortable- you can decide if it's as friends or if you want to call it a date. As I already said I'm mainly interested in getting known to you.

I hope you'll have a successful Morning and i'm expecting your Owl.

Yours sincerely Y/N YL/N"

That wasn't like anything he expected. She wasn't disgusted by everything he did? She wanted to meet him? He thought that she'd politely decline and he'd get rid of all the fuss but she actually sounded nice. Should he give in?

Some time has passed since he received her letter. To be exact four days and nights. Severus told himself that he had gotten busy in hopes this could ease his guilty Feelings. But Minervas Questions wouldn’t stop and he had to make the decision he was shoving back for too long. He just wanted to end that Matchmaking Service and now it had gotten him to the point where he was too nervous to answer a simple letter after the Person openly admitted their interest in him.

Hoping for someone to take the Decision which now laid heavy on his shoulders he wandered around the corridors. His duties for the day have been already done by now and he was just looking for a task to get his mind of the Woman’s Name. He was too nervous to answer, way to nervous. It was nice to get known to someone, yes. But it was too early for him. He hasn’t recovered yet and still felt hurt from his past. Who could blame him? No one. Right? Slowly he started to feel better. Like it was a great opportunity to back off and make this another awkward Memory he had in one of his many brain cells. He won’t answer her. That’s it.

Feeling some Weight flowing off his shoulders he reached his Chambers. He should at least answer Harry. Since he had graduated two and a half years ago he still checked up on him. It simply was his promised duty to do so. Thinking of Questions to ask Harry about his new Life as a Auror and about his Girlfriends Ginny Weaslys as a Professional Quidditch Player he grabbed some Parchment and took his Feather. Dipping it into the small ink Pot he had to notice it was empty. Annoyed he took the List he had put in his drawer in his hands. Diagon Alley, was written on it. Tea, Ink, a new Book and some Parchment.

,,Dunderhead.“ He called himself as he again rolled his eyes. He had forgot to get his supplies. That one Task had slipped off his mind. Annoyed and grumpy as always he gritted his teeth while grabbing his Coat and using his Cabin to reach named Diagon Alley. Slighty coughing he scrunched his nose. As Years have passed he grew to hate using Floo Power. 

Diagon Alley was shining. Lights from every Window invited Passengers into their Shops. But Severus wasn’t the Man to just go shopping and buying random Things. He was organised. So Organised that a simple Woman who showed slight interest in him could get him off his tracks. Ironic. He worked Years as a spy and now a simple Letter did this to him.

His Feet lead his set route to the Shop where he got the Parchment and some ink and afterwards to the Teashop. The last station was the Book Shop. It was the only stage where he was spending an unknown amount of time each time he got there. Words always had a big impact on him. Of course Actions were important too but it are words who seduce him easily.

That’s why he was carrying his now heavy bag through the huge aisles of Books trying to find a new object of Desire. He was very fond of almost every Herbalism, Potion and Healing Book so it had to be something new. His Position as Head of house was boring him. He needed something to do. So he decided to focus his energy on Books and as already mentioned Science.

Opening a smaragd green book he followed some lines about Muggles. Even though he never found himself very intertwined in this Topic he gave it a chance. The fact of how well written and even advanced it was was interesting him. Putting it in his little Basket he continued to decipher the Book Titles. Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming. Taking it in his Hands he way eyeing it closely.

,,I hope you aren’t expecting anything bad, Professor Snape. That's a dangerous Book.“ Caught he quickly looked to his side. A young Woman was smiling nervously at him. Confused he tried to remember her. Was she a Student? A former Death eater? Merlin, no. She was too young to be a death eater.

,,Y/N.“ Her cheeks blushed now and she lowered her glance shortly. ,,Y/N Y/L/N. I thought it might be not very polite if I wouldn’t even say hello since we somehow know each other.“ Getting lost in her eyes he quickly forgot his Plan on to stop thinking about her and not writing her back.  

to be continued. last update 30.jan.21

Taglist: @deepperplexity  , @monstreviolet , @wow-life-love4 , @lizlil , @once-upon-an-imagine , @darkthought15 , @elizabeth-baelish , @looseheartedlady , @ithinkweallsing , @simpforsnape

Let me know if you want to be added to my Taglist. :)

[sweetkyu]

blue | sunwoo

genre: angst, fluff.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol.

word count: 3.7k

n/a: i was inspired by some of jaden's songs to write this fic, this is the first time i post something so be kind hehe

i lost the count of how long i was standing in the middle of my living room, watching the rain fall down through the balcony door, holding onto my cup of chamomile tea with both hands. my mind had already given all the laps around the world as i just stood there. eyes locked to the world outside. empty head, no thoughts. nothing but kim sunwoo breaking into tears when i decided to end our relationship, three months ago. every day has been painful and sorrowful like this, since then. of course sometimes i can manage to just take a deep breath and try to live a day without thinking too much about it. today is the worst day until now because it's the day we would complete five years of dating, that is if we were together. to celebrate it, we had plans of traveling to norway to see the northern lights, a dream we dreamed together since we were kids.

i met kim sunwoo way before he became the boyz' main rapper sunwoo. i could never think that i would be this crazy in love with him when we met, but we don't know nothing about fate, i guess. and me and sunwoo, we were destined to be together, made for each other just like adam and eve. we have so much in common, we share the same dreams, we want to achieve the same things. our moms were university best friends, we didn't have much contact as kids, until the day our mothers decided to put us on the same school to study together... but why would they do that? nobody ever thought we were going to fall in love with each other, but when it happened, to our families it was just perfect. however, ten years after the first day in school together and here we are, here i am completely devastated and drowned in regret, chasing for sunwoo in every place. i thought i would be strong after all these years of relationship, after all the silly fights and misunderstandings i thought i would be able to ignore everything and stay by him, for him. and still i didn't.

his fans knew everything about us, since we started dating before he debuted. i was always there, at all concerts, fanmeetings, music shows. whenever i had the time, i was there in the backstage. deobis were mostly okay with us being together, some of them had social media accounts dedicated for us, i would see everything... and by everything, i mean literally. especially the fans who would hate me and send me messages saying that they wanted me dead, that sunwoo would be better off without me and so much more. that was when i became weak and started to believe in them. that was when my life became a mess in all areas, i was going through a major crisis in my job, my father was sick, some close friends stopped talking to me for no reason at all and sunwoo was on a one-month tour in japan. i was feeling lost, lonely, and i had to do something.

it was raining just like today on that night. i was preparing another cup of tea for me, my third round that day, when he got into the apartment. sunwoo was happy that he was finally home, he would tell stories about the tour and i would just pretend i was listening to them. he could notice something was off and asked me about it. in a whisper i replied him, "i wanna break up". it got silent for long and hard seconds, until i collected courage enough to look at him. the most painful thing i've ever seen, little did i know that scene would be tattoed in my mind for months. beautiful round eyes that i adore so much locking the tears so they wouldn't fall down, he nibbled at his bottom lip before asking "are you serious?" and i took a deep breath before nodding my head as a yes. sunwoo, then, began with the questions, demanding to know where all of that came from considering that we were so happy together. i was rude in my answers, saying that i was tired of the relationship and that i needed some time for myself. moments later and sunwoo went out, slamming the door behind him after i claimed that was the end. 

i've been living under this nightmare ever since, hating myself more every second because i was the one who put myself under this situation, who put sunwoo under this situation. for the past six months i had to just watch sunwoo through his work and social media, and sometimes i would know two or three things about him through chanhee, his fellow groupmate and best friend. chanhee was the only one who knew the truth about the break up and i made him swear he wouldn't tell no one, especially sunwoo, and so he did. in exchange, three months after, chanhee let me know about a mixtape sunwoo would release, mixtape which came out earlier today at midnight. i was kinda excited about this, it is his first solo work and i know how much he wanted to create something with his own touch, his own feeling. the mixtape is called 'blue' and it has only four songs, each named with every letter of the word blue. the songs tell a story on their own, so they make better sense if listened in order and all at once. in the lyrics, he talks about everything he had won as an artist and all that he lost because of that, all in a confused mix of feelings, sometimes full of anger and other times he would sound calm, and it's pretty clear that he is talking about me when he mentions a girl. since his group is now one of the most popular boy groups in korea, it didn't take long for his so waited mixtape to reach #1 in all digital platforms. i was so happy for him and so proud of his work, i even typed a text to send him but i just couldn't press the send button. instead, i expressed my happiness to chanhee, who was extremely comprehensive like always. 

as expected, i spent the entire day of today listening to this goddamn mixtape. every time i would hear his painful words it was like someone was putting a knife into my heart and, oh god, why did i brought so much suffering into this boy's life? this question kept on hammering my head the entire day until i decided i wouldn't listen to it anymore. i finished my shift at work without listening to any music, the background sound would be enough to make me company. i got into the subway with my coworkers just like any other day, they would say something about going out since it was friday and i would pretend i had some other important thing to do. and now, looking at all this rain that is falling outside, i think it was the best i could have done. i look at the clock ticking on the wall and although it's not even 10pm i decide to call it a day. i turn off the tv, let the empty mug by the kitchen sink and drag myself to the bedroom, laying down on my bed, getting comfortable around my pillows and under my fluffy blanket, letting the sleep take full control of my body.

it's still dark outside when i finally managed to free myself from the dream i was having. a dream where everything was fine and i could be found inside sunwoo's loving arms again, feeling his heart beat against mine, smelling his scent, hearing his sweet nothings being whispered at me. but then, so sudden, i looked deep into his eyes and recalled that it was only a dream. i would cry so hard while he would just look at me with a smile on his face. it's been a while since i had dreams like this one. i woke up with tears falling from my eyes, body shaking from head to toes. it took me a while to calm down, when i finally did i decide to have a glass of cold water. after going to the kitchen to drink it, i find my forgotten cellphone onto the dinner table. once i unlock it, i find some unread messages from chanhee.

[00:14] choi chanhee: y/n, i'm sorry but i think it's better for me to tell you

[00:14] choi chanhee: we were at a bar, sunwoo was drunk and started talking about you, saying he had to see you and he left

[00:15] choi chanhee: anyways he is going to your place, we couldn't stop him i'm sorry

[00:15] choi chanhee: call any of us if he acts weird okay? he seems to be out of himself this days... 

i let out a heavy sigh after seeing the messages were sent forty minutes ago, he will be here any time soon. to see sunwoo right now is what i want the most, surely, without any doubts. i miss him with everything that i have. but at the same time i don't feel ready enough for this, i'm not in my best moment, i don't know how i will react when i look at him; once it will be our first encounter after everything that happened between us. without noticing, i start pacing back and forth in my living room, feeling confused and nervous, anxiety growing inside me one more time that night and i feel my legs losing their strength, i sit by the couch as i try to take deep breaths in order to calm myself down again. this can't be happening, this can't be happening, this-- my thoughts are interrupted by the doorbell, followed by knocks on the door. i don't know how but i manage to get up and walk to the door with my jelly-like legs. i don't need to check before opening it. just like i had dreamed moments ago, sunwoo is right in front of me. dark circles around his beautiful eyes, the tip of the nose a bit red and he smells like he has been drinking and smoking for the past few hours. he is wearing black hoodies, black pants and black converse. all black, just the way he likes. i'm still giving no reactions, blinking at the sight of him, hoping for this to be another dream.

"hi" it’s all i can say.

"c-chanhee told me, y/n" he hiccups, taking a deep breath after "he told me everything" i look at him, trying to come up with a sentence but i just can't talk "a-about the haters and how that made you break up with me"

"sunwoo, i--" i stop in the middle of the sentence, couldn't finish because he literally jumped into my arms. a couple minutes later, i close the door behind us before readjusting his arms around me. with the head against his chest i can feel his heart bumping fast and his chin hovering above my head, and somehow it is recomforting. we stay like this for a couple moments, i stop feeling nervous and anxious as i feel his arms around me, calming me down, until his sobbing come into my ears "are you okay?" he nods, kissing the top of my head.

"i just..." i lift my head to look at him, red teary eyes looking deep into my eyes "why didn't you tell me, y/n? huh?" he holds my face with both hands "you can't do this, my love. how can you believe in what other people say when you know i'll love you forever?" he puts his forehead against mine and mumbles "please come back to me, i miss you so much" 

"sunwoo..." i take a deep breath and whisper "i don't know..."

"please, my love, please... i do anything!" his breath smells like alcohol "if you want me to leave the group, i'll do that right now!"

"stop saying nonsense, you know you can't do that!" i shake off his hands away slightly and he seems pretty offended, getting some steps away and looking back at me with angry but still sad eyes, tears now running down his cheeks without permission. a muscle in his jaw twitches making him look scary, yet i'm not afraid.

"it isn't nonsense! it's the truth!" he shouts "how could you believe those words when i am madly in love with you?--" sunwoo paces around the living room, hands messing his hair as if he was having an attack.

"sunwoo, you're screaming--"

"i can't eat, i can't sleep! all i can think about is you!" he takes a deep breath “i have my own pride! you can’t do this to me--”

"it's late, please lower your voice--"

“you can’t just leave me sick like this!” i scratch my forehead at his screamed words “you can’t throw away what we had, not this way!”

“sunwoo, please--”

"why did you have to do this?” he goes on “we've been together for so long, how could you let us just fall all apart?"

"sunwoo..."

"i can't breathe when you're not with me, y/n! fuck!" he slaps the flower pot that once was on top of the table, making it fall into the ground and break into pieces.

"oh my god, kim sunwoo! stop acting like crazy! look what you did!" he stares at me, gasping. i feel my cheeks getting red at the sudden wave of mixed feelings.

"i'm s-sorry" sunwoo looks to the ground and sighs before dropping on his knees, hysterically sobbing "it hurts so much, y/n. you're my everything! i can't stay away from you anymore" he lets out while crying "now why... why would you?" i don't know what to do, but i still keep watching him while holding back some tears.

it doesn't take too much until i can't take this agonizing scene anymore. i know he is tired and confused and i'm definitely not on the mood to fight, that's why i kneel down in front of him and let my hands cup his cheeks. i lift his head, taking a good look at his face as i start to wipe his teardrops away, still fighting back my tears, feeling my heart break into tiny little pieces "why don't you take a shower so you can calm down and then if you're not too tired we talk this through, huh? what do you say?" he opens a sad smile and nods, softly leaning his head against my hand as he searches for more of my touches.

with a certain difficulty, i manage to get him back on his feet but somehow he lost his balance, hardly being able to stand on his feet, so i help him walk to the bathroom while he keeps on muttering that he is sorry for everything and that he wants me back, making this even harder. once we are in the bathroom, i help him with his clothes before pushing him under the shower, i open the faucet, letting the water fall on his head.

"ah! it's cold!" he complains in a hiss, hugging his now naked body.

"i know, but you need it" i close the bathroom shower door, hearing as he mumbles something about not having extra clothes, making me sigh at the fact that he had forgotten that he owns at least three drawers in my dresser.

i walk back to the living room and clean up the mess sunwoo made. when finished, i decide to have a couple more glasses of water to calm down. i still can't believe this is happening. i draw in a long breath as i walk to the bedroom, i open one of sunwoo's drawers, which is exactly the same way it was the day he left. i pick up some clothes for him and soon when i stop hearing the sound of the water falling, i get back into the bathroom to hand sunwoo his clothes. he shyly thanks me before i walk out the room to give him some privacy. few minutes go by until sunwoo shows up in the room, wearing the navy blue pajamas i picked for him, dragging his body to the bed, where i am sitting on.

"i'm sorry, my love. sorry i'm a mess up" he mumbles, stopping in front of me, just by the look on his eyes i can feel that he is completely exhausted, like he would sleep for an entire day if he could. i don't say much, sighing only before getting up to take his hand and sit him down on the bed. i take the towel away from his hands and start to dry off his hair. i feel his hand touch my waist lightly, his thumbs caressing my skin over the material of my shirt, touches ever so soft just like his voice when he whispered "don't be mad at me"

"i'm not" i quickly answer back.

"yes, you are. you're not even looking at me, y/n" he puts his hands on my hands, making any movement of mine stop and then i finally look into his now swollen eyes, all i can see is sadness and sorrow.

"i'm not mad, sunwoo. i just don't like seeing you like that," i try not to cry but it's barely impossible "it makes me sad and it's even worse to know that you're suffering because of me" he wraps his arms around my waist when i drop the towel to the bed, covering my face as i sob uncontrollably.

i find shelter in sunwoo's arms moments later, when he makes me sit on his lap. i curl myself up inside his embrace, snuggling my nose on his neck and feeling his fingers going back and forth on my skin, sometimes he would kiss my temper and whisper some words, reminding me that he was there with me, calming me down.

"i'm so, so sorry for all of this" i hear myself saying after long minutes went by, he holds my  face on his hands, looking deep into my crying eyes "i was weak and made us suffer this badly" he nods at my words "i was in a bad place back then, i thought you wouldn't understand and got us all stuck in this even worse nightmare" he runs his thumb across my cheeks, wiping away some teardrops "i should've talked to you but i was afraid..."

"there was nothing for you to be afraid of, my love... we would have talked this through and find a solution together" i bob my head in comprehension as i feel his fingers put a lock of my hair behind my ear, tears falling silently this time "just like we will find one now, you are not alone. i’m with you, y/n"

"i'm so happy that you are here, sunwoo..." i let out in a whisper and i can watch his lips curve into a smile "i tried to text you before but i just couldn't" he nods.

"i understand, y/n. and it's totally fine" we grin at each other “and i’m sorry i didn’t call all this time and--” he is interrupted by a sudden yawn that makes us laugh, he apologizes right after "sorry, my love, i'm just feeling tired" he blinks lazily as i cross my hand through his hair.

"no, babe, i'm sorry for putting you up to this at this time, we should've talked in the morning" sunwoo shakes his head in denial, mumbling that it's okay "let's call it a day, shall we?" he nods once again that night.

"perfect idea, my love" i smile at him.

my hand fall from his hair to his chin as i put the other one on his shoulder. i lean myself and only closed my eyes after i saw sunwoo closing his, i get closer and closer until our lips locked. our kiss is small at first, slow and soft as if we were afraid of hurting each other but soon it grew bigger and full of desire. it was like my kiss had woken him up, his hands are now everywhere; first holding my cheeks then running down my arms until he got them on my waist, pulling me closer as if it is even possible. my own hands flew to the back of his head without me even notice and i feel his ones running up and down my spine, then holding me close. 

"i love you, y/n" he mumbles in between our making out session, lowering his kisses down my neck and shoulder.

"i love you too, love you  so much" i let out in a whine, panting under his caresses and this makes him smile. sunwoo stops all the kissing and leans his body backwards for a moment, taking his time to look on my face. good thing is that i can take a good look at his as well. he is gasping through his big and swollen red lips, black hair still a bit humid because i didn't make a good job at drying them, beautiful and swollen eyes that had stopped crying now stare at me with passion, making me feel like i am the prettiest woman on the planet, shirt all messy on his body and i swear this is the most beautiful scene i have seen, the dim lights from the bedside lamp only helping him to look even better.

"please don't you ever leave me again, my love" sunwoo prays in a whisper, one hand going up my cheek and i put mine above it "i don't know what i'll do without you" i lean my head to give his caressing hand a kiss.

"i'm not going anywhere" a smile dances on his lips and then he pulls me closer, making us fall on the bed and laugh together at it, before sunwoo kisses me again.

three months ago when he left, i could feel an emptiness growing inside of me, as if sunwoo had taken a piece of me along with him. but now i can assure that the hollow space i was feeling before sunwoo entered my apartment earlier today, that feeling is gone. kim sunwoo had always been that one source of happiness in my life and i don't know how i had the courage to doubt that nor how i managed to live all this time without him. again, we are like adam and eve. we are not perfect, we make mistakes, we are simply soulmates, born to be together. and i know that from now on i'm going to be fine, we are going to be happy.

[tutubola-moved-on]

Hi I like music and I kind of go wayyy too deep into the TPN soundtrack and I think it's about time I start throwing my thoughts out there before they spiral too much

Disclaimer!!! This is not a complete analysis at all, just a few thoughts on each of the songs. I'll probably revisit some of them in future parts if I ever do those aha anyways enjoy

(Part 1/?): 63194, Emma's Sorrow, Emma's Determination, 22194, Norman's Lament, The Promise Between Humans and Demons, Jailbreak and Isabella's Lullaby.

(manga spoilers)

I've done a lil smth smth on Main Theme 2 already and its my favourite song like ever aha this is a cry for help

here you go people

but now anyways fr

63194 (Season 1)

Wouldn't have started with this one cuz I'm still figuring it out but it was the first one that came up when I pressed shuffle

Let's just go straight to the point so we can move on. The first time we hear 63194 is in episode 2, when Norman is talking to Ray about their plan in the forest (or, as I like to call it, "boat scene"). It reaches its climax when Norman starts talking about how he'll use himself to ensure the escape plan will work.

And then it's only used again in episode 8, if I'm not mistaken, after Isabella tells them about Norman's shipment, thus foreshadowing him refusing to escape and using his "death" as a tool to help the others escape.

But alsooo the song is Emma's theme, so there's definitely some sort of meaning other than foreshadowing Norman's shipment. That's for later though cuz I'll have to think more. The beginning does sound a lot like Strauss' Metamorphosen, a piece symbolising how German culture was destroyed during WW2. Not sure what to do with that info for now.

If you'd like a little extra stuff, I also tried connecting the pieces to the Doctrine of Affections, a... thing some Baroque composers wrote that connected music keys to feelings. (I found many sources but I used this one).

63194 is in C Minor, which is described as "innocently sad" (although another source said "sweet but sad") and "lovesick." I think innocence really describes Emma, Ray, and Norman in general, as kids who never did anything wrong but were thrown into the wrong world. Innocently sad would be their conversations in boat scene. They're talking about life or death, it's not something kids should have to deal with.

But again, it's hopeful. Norman wants to create a boat made out of mud---he wants to save everyone---and he really believes it'll work. So although sad, it's also sweet. It's a light at the end of the tunnel, and also just an act of kindness. As for "lovesick," that would just describe Ray and Emma's inevitable longing for Norman after he was gone. Which brings us to...

Emma's Sorrow (エマの悲しみ) (Season 1)

The two times I remember Emma's Sorrow played was 1) When they first talked to Don and Gilda about the house and 2) During the infirmary flashback scene.

The Doctrine of Affections describes E Minor as "grief and longing." In the infirmary flashback scene that obviously not only shows how Norman longs for that time when they didn't know anything and everything was light and happy but also, once again, foreshadows Emma eventually having to grieve him.

Especially because they don't play the staccato part (short quick notes) that's in the original version. Instead, the strings are always present. In staccato, the music gets pretty,,, lowkey? because the instruments can't exactly "show off," whereas the legato (long/connected notes) really shows the true importance and impact each individual instrument has on the song. Considering how the strings (specifically the violins) in the soundtrack could symbolise Norman, it's showing how Norman is not just another guy who's in their group and planning the escape, but an actual friend they'll lose and who'll leave a significant emptiness behind. Not only brain power wise, but just.. you know he's a human being and it's gonna hurt either way.

Not only that, but the harmonies itself in Emma's Sorrow once the strings really do come in are really incomplete. Like, the piano part seems to be all over the place, but it comes together because of the strings. Norman was the one who brought Emma and Ray together, in a way, and isn't Emma and Ray clashing exactly what Shirai wanted when he sent Norman away? Yea...

And Emma's Sorrow is, of course, parallel to:

Emma's Determination (エマの決定) (Season 1)

Yea no I'm still gathering thoughts on that one. The ascending bass contrasting the descending bass in Emma's Sorrow is pretty cool, though. It plays when Don is going off about how he wants to be strong after punching Ray and Norman and it's in F# Minor, so "passionate resentment." Connect both and Don really is ready to change the world. He got slapped with this very very bad reality and naturally he's angry and he's sad and he wants to do anything in his power to save people.

But back to Norman.

(hi future me here. oh my god why am i only talking about norman this was not the route this was originally going to take im so sorry i swear there's more to this post than just norman brain rot 22194 is the last norman one)

22194 (Season 1) and Norman's Lament (ノーマンの嘆き) (Season 2)

22194 is in B Minor, so "patience" and "walking towards fate." That's pretty self explanatory considering how he, and I quote, "chose death." Yea. G Minor would be "uneasiness of the future," and once again, pretty self explanatory (The whole Lambda seizures thing and I'm The Only One Who Can Save The Humans Syndrome. Normy worries too much :/)

Comparing both is pretty fun, too. It's the same melody but in different keys and instruments and thus just give off different feelings. While 22194 is full of instruments and harmonies and is clearly structured, Norman's Lament is just. Empty. It's like it's trying to stay true to 22194, so the Norman from before, but at the end of every musical sentence it just drifts off. You can see parts of 22194 in there, but it's not the same. At all.

There's also no harmony. He wants to do everything himself, and discards all his bonds and friends for that. So sad. Stop him.

All that while 22194 is rich and beautiful and oh my god i love that song so much and it's just showing how Norman was a lot more lively and layered and human when he allowed people to come into his life (the harmonies) and listened to those people instead of just locking himself up and doing everything himself.

So in conclusion cuz I ramble a lot, 22194 is about GF Norman, who hadn't gone through all those things that turned him "evil," who trusted his friends and believed everything had a good, ethic solution. Norman's Lament is about Lambda/post-Lambda Norman, who had gone through a whole lot, and was now in a downwards spiral and had left everything behind to become God or whatever, but was also in denial that he had changed in the first place.

does this make sense no idea i'm typing this while sleep deprived and high on bread and i failed english this quarter

but that aside

The Promise Between Humans and Demons (人間と鬼の約束)(Season 2)

I love this song!!!!!! So much!!!!!!!!! I love the percussion, it's used so well. And I love the way the song builds up and adds more and more instruments until it eventually reaches a climax, like the growing tension between the humans and the demons during the war that snowballed and snowballed and eventually caused both sides to resort to the Promise.

And when the song comes down you can hear a very short "first draft" ish version of Isabella's Lullaby.

It's as if yes, all this mess went down and the demons and humans made this huge promise that completely changed the world and affected an entire society but then far far away from the Seven Walls and the Promise and oblivious of the Ratri Clan and the demons were these two tiny tiny children just singing a song and living happily. And those children---and that song---were the foundation for the entire revolution that ended with the Promise. Wow.

And it's in D Major, D Major is "Triumphant." The song itself sounds triumphant, and yes the Promise was gross but it was a nice little hello kitty band aid over the mess that was the world before it.

What was truly triumphant, though, was the kids' escape, which happened to the same melodic theme, albeit in a different key. Which leads me to...

Prison Break (脱獄) (Season 1)

Oh my God. I love this song.

It symbolises the kids breaking ties with Isabella and how many obstacles were in the way (not only was she their mom; their only mom who had cared for them for their entire lives, but she was also their enemy and did everything she could to prevent them from escaping). The second the brass comes in with the theme (around 0:53) it sounds like it's struggling to play it fully. In this case, Isabella, once the singing parts, would have lost her voice after being outwitted by the children (keep in mind the song starts playing after they've already reached the wall). After all, the song starts with a voice that seems to get more and more desperate before it's overrun by instruments, thus losing its power.

So she's trying to control them and get them back, but they won't let her. They're going to break free. So you have the melodic theme playing with significant breaks, until eventually it all goes silent. Why? Because they escaped. Isabella completely lost contact with them, they're free. And then you get the same melodic theme in The Promise Between Humans and Demons.

But the theme isn't played full. It's not played to the extent that they play it in TPBDAH, instead there's a lot of just "blank space" with no melody above it: that's where the children will write their melody---their story; a story independent from the Promise that shaped their lives thus far.

AGH.

I need a break but I'll be back

Isabella's Lullaby (イサベラの唄)

OK OK Continuing on Isabella I love how Sarah Alainn sings like she's crying. I really recommend this if you want to go deep on Isabella's Lullaby, they pretty much said everything I had to say. I don't go on youtube like ever and that might as well be one of my favourite videos LOL anyways

I also really recommend listening to the no vocal/piano solo version, the harmonies are so beautiful. And the more you listen to it the more you hear, there's always something new. The violins especially oh I love the way Takahiro Obata uses violins. Honourable mention to Nat King Ballade (ナットキングバラード) and Each Thought (それぞれの想い) (idk if thats the english name for it,,,, i've seen it as "Their Own Thoughts" too)

WELL THEN. What a ride. I'll go to sleep now. If anything is incoherent or u just wanna talk then send me askies or a dm smth idk aha i like music but i hate grammar :P

[rhysismydaddy]

The Librarian Ch.1 (Nessian fic)

Wowzers, it’s been a while since I posted! I’ve been writing though! I just have a problem where I start writing shit and never finish it haha.

I finished this one, and it’s 4 parts, they’re all written, and they’ll be becoming out this week!

Synopsis: Cassian Nezara is the King of Campus. He’s the star quarterback for the winning football team, he’s got a great personality, and he’s pretty good looking, too. But when he’s forced to volunteer at the campus library because of a fight, he meets Nesta Archeron, the mysterious and sarcastic librarian. Finding out her secret changes how he views his status on campus forever. 

| Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 |

________________________________________________________________

~Cassian~

Cassian barreled through the sea of freshman in front of him, almost knocking one into the bookshelf next to her. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, not slowing down. 

Coach would kill him if he was late. 

He practically ran up to the little desk in the corner of the first-floor lobby. “Hi, um excuse me,” he said to the woman sitting behind the desk. She had her back turned, feet propped on the desk in front of her without a care in the world. “Do you work here?”

She didn’t turn around. Maybe she didn’t work here. The back of her head looked a little young to be a librarian, anyway. 

“Excuse me,” he said again to her back. 

She still didn’t turn around. Cassian managed to put his temper on a tight leash before slamming his hand into the little bell on top of the desk. 

With a heavy sigh, the woman snapped her book shut, whirling around. 

Cassian froze. And stared. 

He’d been right about the young part. She was probably his age, maybe a little younger. And fucking gorgeous. Crystal blue eyes, high cheekbones, lips that begged to be kissed. She was in an oversize sweatshirt and jeans, but he could tell she had a small figure that’d fit perfectly in his arms. 

Why the hell was she in this dusty place? 

“Books are organized by topic and last name, reference numbers are posted at the end of the columns,” she said drily, then made to turn back around. 

He reached out and grabbed the edge of her chair. 

“I’m not looking for a book.”

She glared at the hand clamped on her chair until he released it. “It’s a library. Surely even you noticed that.”

Jesus, what was this chick’s problem? Weren’t librarians supposed to be sweet old ladies with cats and a kink for romance novels?

“Yeah, I noticed,” he replied, equally as terse. 

She just raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Cassian Nezara. I’m... a volunteer.” 

The librarian looked him up and down. “Blood drive’s next week.”

“I’m not here for the blood drive. Coach Hampton should’ve sent an email-”

She’d been terse before, but her tone shifted even more toward something like hatred. “Coach Hampton.”

Cassian nodded, confused as hell. Everyone loved Coach. 

I mean, he’d led the school to victory in the National Championship for eight years in a row. Football was practically a religion around here, and Ron Hampton was the god. 

He supposed that made him and his teammates angels. He didn’t exactly hate the idea. It sure as hell matched with how the population of the school treated him. 

Ever since his first game when he’d been subbed for the starting quarterback, he’d been revered on campus. And had started. Everyone around him loved football. Loved coach. 

But the woman in front of him rose to her feet, jabbed a finger into his chest, and practically shoved him backwards, growling, “You tell Coach Hampton to find somewhere else to stick his delinquent players.”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he would’ve retorted, asked why, but the look in her eyes told him not to. Plus, it’s not like he wanted to be stuck volunteering in the library every day. 

So Cassian just shrugged, grabbed his phone as he walked out of the building, and called coach. 

“What the hell did you do now,” the old bastard gruffed as soon as the line went through. 

He huffed a laugh. “Actually, I think it might have been you this time. The receptionist, librarian, whatever she is told me to tell you to ‘find somewhere else to stick your delinquent players.’”

Coach paused at that. Then, “Who was it?”

“Didn’t get a name.”

He could tell coach was pinching the brim of his nose as he said, “In your twenty-two years of life, when have you ever not gotten a girl’s name?”

“Listen,” he explained, “This chick is seriously pissed off at the world. And possibly deranged.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” 

The line went dead.

Cassian groaned, resisting the urge to chuck his phone into a nearby fountain. The fact that he was being punished in the first place as stupid to him. But it was stupider that coach seemed it fit to make him suffer in a library of all places. 

Plus, he was being punished for “fighting,” if you could even call it that. Cassian had landed one punch to the bastard’s face before his teammates pulled him back. 

Plus, the idiot had deserved it. Captain of the rival football team and an all-around prick, Tamlin O’Connor had practically goaded him into a fight. And Cassian had been stupid enough to let him. 

So stupid. 

Coach usually didn’t care if they fought, but the prick was threatening to sue if the school didn’t “discipline” him. So library duty it was, apparently. 

Coach’s car pulled up, and the stout man hopped out, already looking pissed off. 

“Okay, you bonehead, I’m here. This has to work out, Cassian,” he scolded, that signature scowl of his deepening. “The library is the only place on campus you don’t have to have a record of working. Labs, working as a TA, the gym... they all record it. So if it goes in the system, it’s official, and I’ll have to bench you.”

Cassian rolled his eyes in annoyance, following coach back inside. 

He pointed over to the desk where the receptionist sat, facing them this time, but still holding a book. 

“Excuse me. I need to talk to someone about one of my player’s volunteering here,” Coach’s usually raspy voice was nicer, softer. 

The woman sitting in front of them just looked up at Cassian as if to say, Ran to daddy? 

Then flattened her gaze on coach. Waiting. 

“The dean has ordered Mr. Nezara here,” he flung a hand in Cassian’s face, “to volunteer somewhere on campus as punishment for something, and we think the library would be a good fit.”

“Interesting. I don’t.” 

She looked back down at her book. 

Coach gritted his teeth. “Can I speak to your boss, young lady?”

Blue eyes flashed up at him, and a cruel smile twisted her mouth. “I don’t have a boss, old man.”

If Cassian had been anyone else, he’d have pulled up a chair and grabbed some popcorn. Coach was used to being listened to. Feared, even. And yet the woman lounging before them, looking at them as if they were filth... she didn’t seem the type to listen to anyone. 

“Listen here-”

“No, you listen. I’m not one of your little preening ogres in a leotard you can boss around. I run this library. So I know about you’re little scheme.” She whispered the last part conspiratorially, “The one where one of your players does something stupid and you tell the dean he’ll “volunteer” somewhere, then let him nap in the library for an hour every day.”

Coach opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. 

If he wasn’t being insulted every two seconds, he’d swear he was in love with her for that gesture alone. 

“Mr. Nezara,” she spat, “will not be serving his sentence here. People who volunteer here want to volunteer.” She looked up at him. “And usually know how to read.”

With that, she simply opened her book again. Conversation over. 

Cassian turned to leave, both annoyed and impressed, but Coach asked, “What will it take? For you to let him volunteer, and I mean actually volunteer, here?”

The librarian closed her book with a deep sigh. “Five percent of the annual earnings from football gets donated to my department,” she said as if she’d been waiting for the question.

Holy shit. That was insane. Coach would never-

“Two. Pre-season only.”

“Three. Regular season, no playoffs.”

“Deal,” Coach practically growled at the woman, turning to stomp out of the building. “He starts tomorrow.”

Casaian followed coach outside, and managed to contain his laughter at the man practically spitting fumes. 

“You realize that if you don’t win the championship this year and make the money back, I’ll kick your ass, right?”

“Why the hell did you do that?” he asked instead. “Three percent of our regular season is still a good chunk of change.”

Coach shrugged, jaw tightening. “When I was your age, I made a similar mistake. And it went on my record and hurt my chances of going pro. I still made it happen, but it was harder. A lot harder. The school will still make millions from the season, and the majority of the cash comes from the playoffs anyway.”

Cassian usually didn’t run out of things to say, but he found himself struck dumb. Coach was a mean old bastard, but he cared about his players and would do just about anything for them. “Thank you.”

Coach spat on the ground. “Get your punkass to the stadium. And, for the love of God, don’t piss that woman off even more.”

~Nesta~

A cheap, cheap woman. That’s that Nesta was. 

She’d sold herself out to the football team. For a chunk of money. Granted, it would probably be the biggest income for the library in years, but still. The thought of what she’d done made Nesta queasy. 

And to Ron fucking Hampton out of all people. Her hatred for him and his entire team of stupid, muscled toddlers pretending to be good guys ran deep. And she’d agreed to spend an hour with one. Every day. 

A cheap, cheap woman indeed. 

Two years ago, she’d promised herself she would never again lay her fate in the hands of someone like Hampton. And yet, she’d just done exactly what he’d wanted her to do. 

Granted, she didn’t roll over and take it like a good little young lady, but she ended up giving him what he wanted. Exactly like everyone else. 

But, no. She wouldn’t let it be that easy. She’d punish Hampton the only way she could: through “Mr. Nezara.” 

As Nesta walked into her apartment, locked all three deadbolts on her door, and took a steadying breath, she vowed to make her new volunteer’s life hell. 

And smiled.

~Cassian~

Cassian hustled into the library once again the next day, sliding to a stop in front of the reception desk. He checked his watch, then smiled. A whole thirty seconds early.

The woman from yesterday just closed her book and jerked her chin to him. “Follow me.”

She walked through aisles of books, hips swaying in a way Cassian couldn’t help but watch. He’d thought about it after he’d left yesterday, but still had no idea why someone so young and beautiful would work in a boring, dead-end job like this. Or how she’d come to run the place, despite being the youngest librarian he’d ever seen. 

He shook his head, continuing to follow her her down a set of stairs, a narrow hallway, and into the room at the end. 

She strode on through, but Cassian paused in the doorway. The room was covered in dirt and dust and cobwebs, stacked floor to ceiling with boxes overflowing with books. Empty shelves stood along the walls, the middle space being taken up by the mountain of boxes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She ignored him. “Books go on the shelves. Cleaning closet is across the hall.”

“What the hell’s the point? They obviously haven’t been touched in years.” The thought of going through all of them made him growl. 

“They’re books that have been taken out of circulation. We don’t throw them away.”

Cassian muttered, “Pack rats.”

The librarian rolled her eyes, striding for the door and gesturing for him to move.

He shook his head. “What’s your name?”

“Move.”

“Nope.” He had no idea why he wanted to know, but calling her the librarian was getting old. 

A flash of something in her eyes. It looked like panic, but it was too quick to read properly. “My name is Nesta. Now move.”

He just stuck out his hand, smiling. “So good to meet you, Nes-”

The vile woman grabbed his hand, twisted it so hard he almost fell to his knees, and pulled him out of the doorway. “Asshole,” she muttered, smacking the back of his head for emphasis as she strode by him. 

By the time his breathing returned to normal and the ache in his now-sore wrist dulled, she was gone. 

It seemed as if little miss Nesta was trying to make him miserable. Probably so he’d quit and she didn’t have to deal with him anymore. 

He grinned, eyeing the monstrous stack of dusty books once more. You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that, Nesta, baby.

~Nesta~

Nesta smiled as she headed down to the basement fifty minutes later. She made her footsteps quiet, hoping to catch him sitting on his ass. If she was being honest, she couldn’t wait to see how miserable he was. 

It made her a terrible person, but she didn’t fight it. 

Nesta peered around the corner. 

And lost every thought of malice in her head. 

The room was pristine. And that was putting it lightly. The shelves were shining, filled with clean books, the floors still wet from being mopped. Hell, even the ceiling looked like it had been scrubbed down. 

Cassian stood in the corner, the last box of books on his shoulder, and said to her, “You guys invest in way too many books on the Civil War.”

Nesta forced herself to sound unimpressed, bored even. “They’re the most requested. But new ones come out every year with different information, so we have to replace them.”

He hummed, turning around to face her, that stupid little smile on his lips.

Apparently done with the box, he took it between two hands and crushed it, the motion making the muscles in his arms bunch together. 

She looked around the room again, and his smile widened proudly. So Nesta just sighed and said, “Put the boxes out back in recycling, and you’re free to go.”

He managed to only look a little disappointed as he grabbed the rest of the boxes, then walked in front of her up the stairs. She sat behind her desk as he went outside, taking a sip of her smoothie. 

Which she almost spit everywhere as a smooth voice said from behind her ear, “That, by the way, is how you sneak up on someone. See you tomorrow, baby.”

She swirled around to strangle him, but he was already walking away, hands in the hair in mock surrender. 

Oh, she was going to kill him. Or at least make his life miserable. Let the games begin, baby. 

________________________________________________________________

PART 2 will be out Thursday :) I promise it gets a lot more interesting. Let me know in my asks if you want to be tagged! 

@bamchickawowow

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 5

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 9.1k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: mentions of sexual acts, swearing, mentions of sexual abuse/manipulation, mentions of non-consensual sex - (these are both mentioned very briefly in the chapter and do not center around any of our main characters, but please be cautious if this is a sensitive topic for you!)

*meme voice* ah shit, here we go again.

thank you everyone for your patience regarding this update!! <3 I appreciate you for waiting patiently and for all your love in the meantime! I hope you enjoy ^^

-------

"Please, will you take this vacation?"

You stare at Namjoon, at the desperation written on his face as he begs you to accept his offer, and a war wages within your heart.

On the one hand, you have no good reason to believe him, not after you’d heard him and his members discussing you behind your back like they did. The key could be a fake, his little theory could be a ruse to let your guard down so you won’t put up a fight when he finally sends you packing.

On the other hand, you’ve never had reason to doubt Namjoon up until an hour ago. He seems to have always looked out for you, always appreciated your work. This could be a genuine plea for your cooperation in a bigger picture, like he claims.

But the shadow of doubt still covers you. The sound of him and his boys squabbling so carelessly, taking a vote on your future. You can’t let that memory go so easily.

“Never trust your client. They will only betray you in the end.” The words of Madame run through your mind again, as if confirming your fears.

You want to believe Namjoon. But you need to protect yourself before anything else.

You slowly break away from his grasp, taking the key and tucking it into a pocket on your belt. “Kim Namjoon...” you say, your eyes cast downwards.

He seems more relaxed now that you’ve taken his peace offering, and he tilts his head to the side, listening intently. “Yes?”

Your brain claws desperately at a strategy, at anything you could use as leverage. But all you have are words. What can you say? What protection do you have left? You’re putting yourself at his mercy.

“During my time in this house... I have learned many things about you and your members. Things I don’t think you want the public to find out about.”  Lies. He knows it. You know it. The only secrets you know are their kinks, which aren’t exactly damning to their characters. Even if you did have dirt on them, who would listen to you? 

You continue, though your voice sounds uncertain, even to your own ears. “If you’re lying to me about any of this, then I swear...  I’ll do what I have to, and... ensure that you pay for your mistake.” You try to imbue strength and determination into your words, but your heart isn’t in it, and you’re sure he can tell. You can’t even meet his eyes. You have no fight left in you. You’re like a frightened animal that’s been backed into a corner.

Fuck. You’re just so tired of this, of everything. You’ve been through too much recently with not even a moment to catch your breath, and you’re just… exhausted. You’ve tried, you really have. You’ve done your best, you’ve gone down swinging. But you can’t do it anymore, it’s all too much...

You feel numb as Namjoon wraps you into his arms. When did he come over to your side of the table? You don’t remember, you can’t think clearly.

“It’s okay.” Namjoon’s breath is warm against your cheek. “You can rest now.”

Can he read your mind? You must look so pathetic, your body shaking as he holds you tightly, like you might float away.

But right now, you don’t care. He’s seen you at your worst already. You choke on a quiet sob and your fingers twitch, longing to reach up and hold him, to reciprocate...

“Alright, has everything been sorted?” Yeji’s arrival carries away those ideas, and Namjoon pulls away from you with a gentle pat to your shoulder.

“I believe it has,” he says, and he stands up to greet her as the two of them start to wrap up the details of your agreement. Their words turn to buzzing as the rest of the meeting passes by in a blur. You're too dazed to pay attention, too numb to feel anything but a vague sense of resignation as papers are signed, handshakes are given, and your fate is placed in his hands.

Before you know it, you’re back up in your room again. Whatever farewell that Namjoon had probably wished you as you shut the door had fallen on deaf ears. You can’t process anything more right now.

-------

The first few hours of your sentence pass by in silence, tears slowly trickling down your face as you lay on your bed. Your brain slowly works through its state of catastrophe. Dimly, you worry that you might never pick up all the pieces. Some have blown away in the recent whirlwind of disaster, some are stained, irreparable, all of them worn from being taped and glued back together, over and over again.

You feel broken.

Is this what they wanted? To break you?

You roll over onto your other side, uselessly wiping the tears from your face as fresh ones spring to your eyes to replace them.

You know, somewhere inside yourself, that you can’t just sit here and throw a pity party all week. But damn it, it’s been a while.

You just need a little time. Soon, you’ll be back on your feet, you tell yourself. You’ll bounce back, just like always. You’ve never failed before.

But what if you do? What if you fail yourself, fail the boys? Fail your family, yet again? You want to curl up and never move for the rest of your life. The craggy void of failure at your feet has you nearly paralyzed, afraid to misstep. Afraid to get that last strike and finally be sent home.

You groan. You’re so exhausted and frustrated of picking yourself apart like this. There's no point in agonizing over what ifs.

You’re here. You’ve arrived at rock bottom. Now the question is where to go?

It feels eerily calm as you sit up in bed and survey your surroundings. No noise pierces the utter stillness of your bedroom apart from your own breathing. It’s stifling.

By now, it has to have been at least a full day since you came upstairs, right? You feel like you’ve been laying on this bed for ages. You grab your ComGear to check the time, and whimper in despair.

It’s only noon. About two hours since the meeting.

After another brief bout of agony at this revelation, you take a second look at the screen and are surprised to see over a hundred notifications. You expect it to be due to the group chat, but a fair amount of them are actually from your clients. You don’t bother to open each conversation, but merely look over their previews - the most recent messages they sent you.

[   Kim Seokjin   ]: please try to get some rest, alright? [  Jung Hoseok  ]: I’m sorry… truly. please enjoy your time off. [     Park Jimin    ]: just let me know! ^^; [  Kim Namjoon  ]: Promise. [    Min Yoongi    ]: you know where to find me [  Kim Taehyung ]: enjoy your vacation, jagiya~ ♡ [ Jeon Jungkook ]: are you coming down for lunch?

All of them messaged you, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. It hurts to see them pretend like everything’s fine and see if that makes it better somehow. It looks like most of them didn’t even try to apologize for what they did to you. Maybe you really aren’t that important to them after all.

Could they see through your attempts to befriend them all this time? Did all of their kindness to you mean nothing? Is that how they treat all of their employees?

You feel tears threatening again, and you wish you had a friend to talk to about all this.

Then it occurs to you that maybe… you do.

You flick over to the group chat, where you see that the other PhysComs are now talking about some webtoon and sending memes to each other. You tap on Sascha’s profile again. The same page greets you, the same blank profile picture and call button as before.

Yeji had said that the chat was real. If that's true, then the people in it must be who they claim they are, right? You do trust Yeji’s word, but you need to find out for yourself. You’ll never be able to fully accept this undercover group chat as a reliable resource until you know for sure.

Hey, if you’re suspended anyway, what’s the harm right? What are they going to do, fire you?

You bark out a sob of a laugh, and your finger hits the button before you can stop yourself. Yes, this might be a bad idea, and yes, you shouldn’t risk putting yourself out there on the hope that it’ll connect you to a friend, but you need to know the truth. You’ll feel better if you know that there’s still someone in this world that truly understands you.

It rings. And rings.

As the ominous buzzing stretches on through the silence, your worry starts to return. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. If the chat room is somehow compromised, you might have just given yourself away, someone high up in the industry could be tracking your location at this very moment from your cell signal or something, or maybe-

“Hello?” Sascha’s voice rings clear as a bell through the phone, and you almost start crying right then and there with relief.

“Sascha?” You can barely utter her name as all your memories of training together hit you like a sucker punch in your already fragile state.

“Oh! Hey, sweetie! How’s it going?” she replies in her chipper way, a smile in her tone.

“... It’s really you,” you whisper, pressing your fist to your pursed lips to keep your emotions at bay. “Sasch.”

“Of course it’s me, silly goose.” Her laugh is bright and airy, just like you remember it. “Who else would it be?”

You wait a beat, scouring your mind for a test to prove your paranoia wrong, just in case. “What… what did I give to you on our last day together?” You ask imperatively, waiting with bated breath for her answer.

It was not something either of you would easily forget, though most people probably would. It’s also the best test you can think of, as anyone else would assume such an important day would go hand in hand with a meaningful keepsake or an important gift.

“A sandwich,” she laughs. “Pastrami and mustard on rye. You shared it with me to celebrate reaching our target weight that month. Though you never let me pay you back. I would have preferred ham, you know.”

Your shoulders visibly relax. It’s Sascha, all right. Compliments and complaints in the same breath. It’s as if hearing her voice, hearing the confirmation that it’s really her, turns on a faucet inside you that had long since dried up.

“Sascha… so much has happened.”

You didn’t fully realize how lonely and isolated you’ve been until this very moment, now that you have some true company. Your story comes spilling out, every sordid detail, and Sascha listens attentively to what you have to say, just like she used to during your training days.

“So, now I’m in my room, and… I don’t even know how I’m going to get through today, let alone a whole week,” you confess, hugging your stuffed rabbit to your chest.

“Let me get this straight.” A while into the call, you’d switched to video chat, and Sascha appears to be doing some yoga stretches while catching up with you. “You have seven men in that house, all of whom you’re supposed to pleasure sexually, and they’re giving you a paid break from pleasuring them?”

You nod. “Awful, isn’t it?”

Sascha’s face twists. “You know, I think you may be viewing this all wrong.”

Your brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

“Hear me out for a second,” she continues, now angling her warrior pose so she’s facing her camera. “When was the last time you had a real break?” She quirks an eyebrow, dipping out of frame to switch poses, her blonde hair spilling over one shoulder in a loose braid. “One where you didn’t even think about work?”

You stare blankly at the camera. You’ve had no such days. You’re always looking to improve yourself to maintain your high marks. “Um…”

Sascha laughs and flashes you a fond smile. “You were the same way in training. You know how many days a week I work?”

You feel shame start to curl in your gut. “How many?”

“Three,” she replies. “And the reason why is because we have like six Primary PCs here at the dorm.” She blows a stray lock of hair out of her face. “There are thirteen boys to satisfy at any given moment, so we each only tackle two to three at a time, and our coverage is considered thin! Most groups have at least one Primary per client.” She reaches down to touch her toes, her ass shimmying in the air, and you snort. “And that’s not even counting our Secondaries! We're practically a fucking harem over here!”

You sigh, chewing on your lip crankily. “What’s your point?”

She pokes her head up to shoot you an equally cranky glare. “Remind me, how many boys do you tackle?”

“Seven,” you mumble. You know what she’s getting at, but it’s something you don’t want to admit, even to yourself. Maybe… objectively… you do need a break, even if you don’t want one. Maybe you’ve been overworking yourself, biting off - or in this case, perhaps swallowing - more than you can chew.

“Right! That’s half the amount of our clients. Doing the math, you should have at least three Primaries there, but it’s just you.” You see Sascha’s leg rise up behind her in some sort of bizarre stretch, and her voice sounds strained with the effort of holding the pose. “I’m not saying you can’t handle it, babes. I’m just saying that... you do a lot for them. Maybe this will be good for you.”

Hearing someone put it so rationally makes you feel like maybe you’ve been overreacting. Namjoon did tell Yeji he wants to keep you, but it all still seems... off, somehow.

“What about the whole vote thing? And Namjoon’s deal?” You bring up your last few defenses at her argument, your hand resting subconsciously on the pocket of your belt containing the key to his studio.

“Oh no, that’s all highly suspicious.” Sascha blows a lock of hair out of her face as she comes back up and lifts her arms over her head. “But what’s happened has already happened. So I think you should make the best of it, and take this time to rejuvenate yourself. Just keep an eye out, and if those bastards try anything, you send them to me.”

You laugh. “Rejuvenate? How am I supposed to do that?” You roll your eyes at her playfully. “Yoga?”

Sascha props a hand on her hip. “Don’t joke. Yoga is a very valid form of rejuvenation.”

You giggle at her stoicism and she cracks a smile too before continuing. “But seriously, honey! It breaks my heart that you’ve been working so hard, you don’t even remember how to have fun. Come on, what did you do in your training days to relax?”

You think back and try to remember. Most of your memories from training are a blur of hard work, endless studying and practice. You’re about to confess that you really have no idea, when a single memory breaks to the surface, and like a dam, it releases a flood of other times you’d taken breaks. Sneaking out to get snacks, late night adventures, stargazing on the rooftop, all of the rare little pockets of time that you could call your own, and they all had one connecting factor.

“Music,” you breathe, feeling like you just stepped out of a time warp. “Listening to music, really, really loudly.”

Sascha laughs, a proud smile adorning her dimpled cheeks. “I think you know how to kick off your vacation, then.”

You find yourself grinning, too. “Thanks, Sasch.” You feel like maybe you should stay on the line a bit longer. You two really have some catching up to do, even though once you’d started talking, it had felt like no time had passed since you’d last seen her.

But Sascha makes your decision for you, blowing you a kiss. “There are tons of music streaming apps. Go crazy. And call me if you need anything, okay?”

The simple act of her being supportive of your wellbeing has you feeling overwhelmed all over again, but this time, it’s not from emotional distress. “Thanks, Sascha. Same to you.”

You’re about to end the call when you hear a door open on Sascha’s end of the line. She looks off camera and a smile pops up on her face. “Antione, come over here!” She yells, running off screen and returning a moment later, dragging a boy behind her, who seems to be grumbling in protest of her manhandling. “Antione, say hi! This is Antione from the group chat.”

The guy seems more than a little ticked off at Sascha, but when he catches sight of you on the screen, his mouth falls open.

“Oh… hello.” He flashes a smile, and his icy blue eyes are now filled with wonderment. “You’re the Primary for BTS?”

“Hi,” You wave a little awkwardly. “Yup, that’s me.” You can’t help noticing how strikingly similar he and Sascha look. With those crystal eyes and buttery blonde hair, you could mistake them for twins, the only difference being Antione’s thinly framed glasses next to Sascha’s 20/20 vision. But you suppose he wouldn’t really need glasses to have sex, they’d surely get knocked around or broken if he left them on. He probably wears contacts for work.

In fact, his similar appearance to his coworker can’t be a coincidence, especially if they’re both Primaries for their clients, and it leads you to believe that perhaps all of their Primaries bear a resemblance to each other, so that any combination of fuck dolls could be considered a set. From this, you suspect that their clients may be into incestuous role play, or perhaps they like the idea of fucking someone’s “sibling”.

Not concrete evidence, but it’s not a far reach. You’ve seen plenty of stranger kinks.

You’ll have to ask Sascha about it on your next call with her, as you’re sure she’ll ask you more about what things your clients usually request of you. With one girl among seven men, she might presume that they enjoy gangbanging you.

She wouldn’t be wrong, of course.

Kink talk was a common pastime among your peers during your training. You all had been trained to analyze a person, what makes them tick, and how it’s related to their psyche. It had always fascinated you from an academic standpoint, even though some of your fellow trainees would prefer hearing about the dirtiest cases, regardless of the psychological factors that went into it.

“Is all going well? You feeling any better about all this?” Antione’s kind voice tears you out of your thoughts, and you give him a brief, grateful smile.

“I’m getting there,” you reply. “Thank you for all your help. It’s been… a lot to take in, and I’m glad that you recognized that, and helped me ease into it.”

“Not a problem. I’ve been in that position before, and it takes some adjusting, for sure,” he replies.

“That’s what she said.” Sascha snickers. “Alright, stop flirting, you two!” She shoves Antione offscreen, and the boy yelps at once again being pushed around. “Call me if you need me, babes! Have fun! Bye!”

Sascha reaches over and ends the call, and you’re once more on your own. But you don’t feel as isolated as before.

As long as you have your ComGear, you’ll never be alone again.

The thought makes you feel warm inside, though you scold yourself for being so sentimental. You need to recharge, or how did Sascha put it? Rejuvenate.

It doesn’t take long for you to find a decent music streaming app, though it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore the buzzing as your clients keep messaging you. You realize that the notifications might interrupt your music once it starts playing, so you reluctantly open all their chat threads, only to mute them.

There. Now it won’t buzz anymore. They shouldn’t care if you left them on read. They want you to rest, right? You huff derisively and start searching the vast music library, trying to recall what you used to listen to back in the day to pump yourself up.

It dawns on you while you browse that you haven’t listened to any music for the past six months, apart from whatever the boys are rehearsing at any given time. The sound always reaches you whenever they practice, even if they’re rooms away. Though their songs aren’t too bad, they’re still not something you had chosen to listen to.

You hadn’t taken any time to be yourself, since you were so busy trying to be what they want from you.

You feel a vague sort of sadness when you think about it like that, imagining it happening to someone else, but you’re too subjective of the situation to really feel sad for yourself. You hadn’t take time for yourself, however you still climbed the ranks, earned their favor, became their only Primary. You’d achieved your goals.

But at what cost, asks a little voice in your head. What did you lose to win your dream job?

And are you even happy with it? Or is it just the satisfaction that you crave? The satisfaction that you would feel after achieving any other goal? The satisfaction of a job well done?

You shake your head. Whoa there. Too deep.

This is the most mental airspace you’ve had in forever, and it’s starting to show.

You don’t waste any more time trying to remember your old favorites, and instead tap on a “Hot 100 Hits” playlist. It’ll be interesting to see what people are listening to now. Maybe you’ll find some new favorites.

Sure enough, the first song that comes on is a pop rock tune, with a catchy beat and heavy drums. It makes you bob your head and you feel a surge of instant regret at not making more time for music. You’d forgotten how it can take you somewhere else, clear your mind and help you forget all your worries in a way that sex never can.

You’re a bit jarred when the lyrics kick in, though. They don’t rhyme at all, and they seem a little… stilted, like a robot is trying to sing. Damn, is this what kids are listening to these days? You knew that those singing hologram voice programs used to be a thing, but this seems almost unintentional.

You check the screen and sure enough, it’s a Korean title staring back up at you.

Your auditory auto-translation chip is changing the song into verbatim English.

You start to laugh. The unintended consequence strikes you as ridiculous. It seems that reminders of your job are everywhere.

With a sigh of exasperation, you head into the settings of your ComGear and access the language screen. You turn off the auditory auto-translation, and the song reverts back to the original lyrics, which are much easier on the ears.

Now that that’s taken care of, you turn the music on full blast and stand up.

Alright. Music, check. Now... how to leisure?

You look around and assess your room. It’s relatively tidy, and cleaning it won’t take more than ten minutes. You could work out, you have plenty of equipment. But that’s what you usually do on your days off. Improve yourself for work the next day.

What would Sascha say? Maybe… guilty pleasures? You put your mind to coming up with the most self-indulgent thing you can imagine.

Of course, you immediately think of chocolate.

But you’re not really hungry. To be honest, your stomach is still a little knotted up from the meeting.

Maybe not that kind of self-indulgence. You’ll just feel guilty afterwards. Maybe… maybe something pointless. Something that’s fun just for the sake of being fun.

You whirl around and take a long look at your bed as the music sweeps into the chorus.

Fuck, why not? Who’s going to stop you?

You climb onto the mattress and start jumping. You feel pretty silly at first, but the longer you jump, the lighter your worries feel. It’s as if you’re leaving them in the air with every bounce. The music blasts from your night table and you get a little bolder with your jumps, really putting power into them.

You’re lucky you have high ceilings, as you go higher and higher, you could swear you’re flying. You start to laugh, throwing some twirls into your leaps, and as the music blares, you sing along, off-key and with nonsensical phonetic lyrics.

Your cheeks hurt by the end of the song, and you’re out of breath, giggles falling from your lips as you finally jump down into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

When was the last time you jumped on the bed like this? Must have been when you were young, with your sister.

You feel the same dull ache you always feel when you think of her, though you normally make it a point not to do so. The memory must have slipped past your defenses while you were enjoying yourself.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost don’t hear the insistent pounding at your door, the music and thick walls muffling the sound. You had mistaken the noise for part of the lyrics, as they sounded like gibberish to you. But finally you noticed the person trying to get your attention, and you hurry over to the door as they continue to speak in tongues.

“Neo geogi an-e issni? Yah, mun-eul yeol-eola.”

You pull open the door and are met with the unreadable face of Min Yoongi.

“Gwaenchanh-a? Jeonhwaleul an bad-eusyeossneyo.” He continues to drawl in gibberish, and you merely stare at him, immensely confused.

It clicks for you a moment later, and you hold up a finger to him. “Um, hana… uh, shit, one sec.”

He gives you an equally confused look, and you hasten back to your ComGear to turn the auto-translate back on as well as pause the music. “There, that should do it.” You turn around to see him peering curiously at you.

“You were speaking English,” he says it halfway between a question and a statement. He must be used to hearing you speaking auto-translated Korean, just like you’re used to hearing his words in English.

“Yeah... I forgot to turn my translator back on.” You explain halfheartedly, your shields already locking back into their familiar place. It was a nice, if brief, moment of total freedom, just jumping around to music, but the carefree bubble has popped, and you're once more faced with reality.

Yoongi's eyebrow raises at the mention of the technology, but he merely shrugs a shoulder.

A few awkward moments of silence pass before you realize that he isn't going to explain himself on his own. Something about that, about the expectation for you to move things along, has your hackles raised in irritation.

Just like always, he's expecting you to do all the work.

"Did you need something?" You try to stay professional, even now, but you can't keep the edge out of your voice. All traces of your previous enjoyment have shriveled up and vanished in the face of the man who told your other clients that you were something replaceable.

He prods his cheek with his tongue, his face mask shifting from where it rests below his lips. "You weren't answering your phone," he says by way of an answer.

You stare at him, already growing weary of this interaction. Does he expect you to be as accessible as you were before? You don't plan on contacting any of them if you can help it, at least, not for right now.

Wait, did Namjoon tell them what happened? He must have. But if he didn't, then maybe that's why Yoongi is here. There’s no point in having any more misunderstandings; you have to make the situation clear.

"I'm suspended." Your voice grows quiet, and you look off into the hallway, shame coloring your cheeks. You know you shouldn't be, but you still feel a sting from vocalising your current demotion.

Yoongi gives a hum of affirmation, confirming that he already knew, as his eyes roam over your body. "Forbidden fruit..."

You tense, your body reacting involuntarily to his offhand comment as heat rushes to your core. Your most primal senses want him to give into the temptation and pin you against the wall... No, snap out of it. You’re still mad at him, no matter how attractive he may be.

But thankfully the moment of tension passes just as quickly, and his gaze returns to your face. "It’s a shame I already ate, unlike some people.” A flicker of humor in his eyes. “Here."

He hands you a paper bag, with a takeout logo on the front. You can't do anything but stare at it. It seems that your processors are still down for maintenance.

“You didn’t have breakfast.” Yoongi finally says, after it becomes clear you aren’t saying anything. “You’ve been up here since the meeting.”

It finally dawns on you, though the logical conclusion seems hard to believe. “You were… concerned about me?”

He tugs the face mask up over his mouth, concealing most of his expression. “Jungkook,” he corrects you with a slight cough. “He sent me up here. Poor kid was worried sick about you.”

You hesitate to take the food, even though your stomach is curling with hunger. Is this an attempted peace offering? Does he think this will make things better?

Before you can question his motives, he sighs and shoves the bag towards you. “Take it. You still have to eat, you know.”

You’re tired of fighting, and take the path of least resistance by accepting the bag. “Thanks,” you say, half-hoping that this will be the end of it and he’ll just leave. But the other half still holds the whimsical notion that he actually cared enough to check up on you.

“It’s fine,” Yoongi shrugs again, looking off to the side.

You'd only ever known Min Yoongi as a salacious dom, stuffing you full and showering you in filthy praises. It feels surreal to be standing here now, holding a normal conversation.

After another moment, it becomes clear that his business here isn’t finished, and quite frankly, you’re getting impatient. “Is there anything else?”

At this, he seems to remember his reason for coming. “Ah, yeah. Can I come in?”

Into your room? You blink in dismay, the answer should be obvious to him. “No.”

You think you can see his mouth lift into a smile beneath the mask. “Good. That’s the spirit.” He gives a slight nod, as if appraising your disobedience.

You aren’t sure if this is normal behavior for him, as you’ve barely spoken to him out of character. You know probing him about it will only drag out this interaction, but your curiosity gets the better of you. “What… what are you talking about?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m just glad to see that you have some backbone. You’re usually so willing to follow orders.”

You bristle at this. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, lifting an eyebrow. It would have looked like a challenge if it had been more deliberate, but the way Yoongi carries himself is effortlessly casual and careless. "He gave you his key, right?"

It takes you a moment to discern that he’s talking about Namjoon. You nod once, and he scoffs.

"I knew he would. Poetic bastard." Yoongi sighs, then fixes his gaze to you once more. “That means I have to share my studio with him until all this is fixed.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance.

You aren’t sure how to reply, or if he’s even looking for one. If he wants an apology from you, he’s out of luck. Namjoon’s questionable decisions are not your fault.

But he doesn’t wait for any words from you, and instead turns around to go back downstairs. “Anyway, enjoy your break.”

“Wait.” You aren’t sure why you stop him. Maybe because he doesn’t seem like the type to bullshit you. “Min Yoongi.”

He pauses and looks over his shoulder at the sound of his name, an indiscernible expression in his eyes.

Your resolve turns to steel, using the last ounce of your strength to try and get some answers. “Tell me what’s going on. Why is he doing this?”

Yoongi glances up to the ceiling as though thinking of what to say.

His next words do not inspire confidence.

“I have no fucking idea.”

Your shoulders slump down a fraction. You aren’t sure you believe him, but it’s too much effort to hope for anything beyond his word. You can’t handle any more disappointment right now.

Yoongi scratches the side of his temple and gives a weary sigh. “If I could look inside his mind, then maybe I’d have a clue...” He stares at you intently, and his gaze trails down over your body again. You resist the urge to cover yourself, though now you realize you don’t have to resist. Your body doesn’t belong to him right now, and it won’t for the next several days.

Your arms cross themselves protectively over your chest, testing the waters of your newfound independence. “My eyes are up here, byeongsin.”

His eyes widen a fraction at your cheek. He tugs the face mask down below his chin again, a bewildered smile twitching onto his face, no doubt surprised to hear you cursing him out in Korean. “Who taught you that?”

“Taehyung.” You smirk, proud of yourself for catching him off guard for once. You remember when Tae had told you how surreal it sounded to hear you swearing in his language.

“Doesn’t it sound the same?” You ask him, confusion furrowing your brow. “The translator…”

Taehyung shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing from excitement. “It sounds different! Like… like you have an accent,” he giggles. “Say it again.”

“Shibal.” You repeat the word hesitantly, the syllables feeling strange on your tongue. Mouth shapes for Korean are so different compared to English.

Taehyung bursts into a fit of laughter, clutching his sides as he rolls onto his back. You whack him with a couch cushion. “That’s not fair! You already know all the English profanities.”

Tae’s eyes dance with laughter as he sits back up. “All thanks to Namjoon-hyung. Shit, bastard, damn it to hell, and of course...” He sticks out his tongue, running it over his lips. “Fuck you.”

There’s a flutter in your stomach from the look he’s giving you. You snort and whack him with the pillow again. “Yup, you got all the highlights.”

His hand slides over your thigh. You meet his gaze, that flutter returning as you see the lust swirling like smoke in his pupils. “Jagiya...” His hand grazes farther up your thigh. “I want to fuck you.”

Things had obviously escalated after that, and you might have gotten lost in the memories if Yoongi hadn’t let out a low chuckle, bringing you back to the moment. “Wow. What else did he teach you?”

You grin, about to let loose a string of foul language, but he holds up a hand before you can, waving off whatever you’re about to say. “Nah, forget it. Leave it a surprise.”

“I’m full of them, you know.” You can’t help feeling a little proud.

“I know.” He stares at you for another moment before turning and heading downstairs. “Make sure to eat,” he calls over his shoulder, and soon enough his footsteps fade away.

A warm feeling fills your chest in his absence, and you can’t quite explain why. His last words prove that he must care about you a little, even if he doesn’t try to show it. The Yoongi you just spoke with feels like a completely different person than the one you overheard in the kitchen. Different even than the one at dinner, who suggested Seokjin should use another slut in your absence.

The memory taints the feeling of warmth, and you sigh. Why are things so fucking complicated?

You head back into your room and devour the takeout with less grace than would be expected for a seductress such as yourself, and mindlessly scroll through your ComGear, which is now more of a standard cellphone, exploring all the newly accessible features.

You’ve missed a lot of news, both locally and globally. Celebrity gossip. Politics. Entertainment.

Wait, whoa. What?

New Witness “B” Comes Forward About Sexual Manipulation in the K-Pop Industry

Sorry, what?

You click the article, your mind reeling with morbid fascination. Why would there still be any “manipulation” now that groups are given PhysComs? Why would they need any other sexual outlet, when they’re given vessels that are willing to serve?

  Our witness, who wishes to remain anonymous, has independently corroborated with Witness A’s story. “B” has told us that, like “A”, they weren’t given a choice when it came to filming private sessions with their clients.

  “[Group] told me that it was my job. That it was what I was there for. But they filmed me without my consent. They posted the videos online and made money from it. It’s not right. I got out, but there are still others like me who need help. It shouldn’t matter that sex work is against the law. What these people are doing, taking advantage of us… it should be just as illegal. We need a voice, too.”

  You may recall that Witness A’s shocking story from earlier this month sparked rumors about illegal sexual companions being provided to entertainment companies, a practice which up until now had been considered hearsay.

  However, with this new testimony, it seems that “A” may have had some truth to their story. We tried to contact [Group]’s agency, but they were unavailable for comment.

Holy shit… you had no idea any of this was happening. Thinking on it, it stands to reason that not every PhysCom is treated equally, given the vast multitude of people who have access to them. But where are these PhysComs’ handlers? Why aren’t their networks helping them?

You find polarizing comments beneath the article, most angry that the companies would allow the sex work to take place, very few praising B’s decision to speak out, and some disbelieving that PhysComs even exist. There are also a few very lengthy comments that catch your eye, demonizing the witnesses and making threats towards other companies, should the commenter’s “oppas” be caught in this scandal, too.

You feel uneasy as you click away from the article. The rest of the takeout is put away in your mini fridge, your appetite gone as you try to make sense of things.

That article gives you the feeling that something is happening, not just here in this house, but in the world. Like floating pieces of a magnetic puzzle, you know they’ll all come together somehow, eventually, but you still can’t see the big picture.

You send the article to the group chat, and they confirm that they’ve seen it.

[ PCsv02_svt  ]: scary, right? TT-TT [ PCsv02_svt  ]: I don’t know what I’d do if I were them, poor thing [ PCsv03_twc ]: they should’ve gone to the police [ PCsv04_blp  ]: why did they wait until now to come forward? [ PCsv03_twc ]: if my clients ever treated me badly I would have done something [ PCsv09_$px ]: it’s not always that simple [ PCsv01_svt  ]: yes consider the repercussions… [ PCsv01_svt  ]: an illegal sex worker reporting nonconsensual sex? [ PCsv01_svt  ]: that’s like a robber reporting another robbery

You mull over this as you let them debate the topic. You imagine what it must be like to be in that position, taken advantage of by your clients… you shiver at the cold injustice of it.

There is a certain degree of trust that's employed in any kind of sex work. You're still offering intimacy in some form, which can't be fully given without trust. It must be utterly horrific to see that trust broken and be unable to stop it.

You want to help these people somehow, but right now you need to help yourself. One sea of turmoil at a time.

You click out of the chat and switch to each conversation with your clients, copy and pasting the same message to each of them.

Please don't contact me for the rest of the day. I need time alone.

Since you're suspended, you figure they can't punish you for making yourself unavailable. Though it pains you to think of them relying on the other PhysComs at their disposal. Seokjin already has. You forcibly push away the thoughts every time they bounce against your mind.

With the boys out of the way, you assess your options. You need more information about what the hell is happening, and the most likely place you'll find it is obvious. What did Yoongi say? If he could look inside Namjoon's mind… then he'd have an idea.

You happen to have the key to his mind right in your belt.

-------

It's surprisingly difficult to sneak out of the house without alerting anyone. You left your door locked and music blaring. Between that and the text you sent, you thought leaving from your window would be a piece of cake.

You neglected to account for the height.

Your room is on the third story, too far to jump without damaging yourself. Thankfully, you've seen enough movies to have the idea of fashioning a rope out of extra bed sheets. Unfortunately, bed sheets are not the best rope material. Too slippery.

You mull over what to do for a few moments, and you laugh out loud when you realize that the solution is absurdly simple. Hello? You have literal ropes in among your sex toys. Even better, they're designed not to give the user rope burn, while still knotting like a dream.

It doesn't take long to shimmy down from your window to ground level, and you stash the end of the rope behind some bushes, planning to use it later to return to your forbidden tower.

Disguised in a hoodie, you feel like a spy in an action movie, or a runaway princess, and the thought makes you giggle as you make your way towards the nearest subway station.

It's been too long since you've ventured out of the house. You had nearly forgotten how invigorating the bustle of the city could be. You feel like you’re breathing fresh air for the first time in ages, though the pollution in the distant sky would say otherwise.

It only takes a quick search on your jailbroken ComGear to find the address of the building where Namjoon's studio is located. BigHit Entertainment.

You'll have to be careful not to encounter the others. They probably frequent their record label, and the last thing you need is to bump into one of them. You would have no explanation for yourself as to why you're here. You'd rather avoid the questions.

Unfortunately, it proves harder than you’d think to get into the building. A fingerprint ID scanner meets you just inside the auxiliary door.

Fuck. It’s too much to hope that they have your prints in their database, right? You place your thumb over the scanner, and it buzzes, the sensor light turning red. No go.

Well shit, what are you supposed to do now? You’ve come all this way, and you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Namjoon’s stupid key.

Wait, why the hell did he give you the key if he knew you couldn’t get into the building? Bastard. You groan and kick at the base of the door. You try your prints again, but none of your fingers grant you access, the scanner buzzing mockingly with each failed attempt.

You’re about to give up when you hear a voice behind you. “Here, let me.”

You swivel around and see Jeon Jungkook place his thumb on the scanner, a to-go cup in his hand and a duffle bag on his shoulder. The light turns green and the door whooshes aside to let him in. The lift in his brows tells you he recognizes you through your flimsy disguise, but he merely gestures for you to go ahead. You sheepishly walk through, knowing better than to question this stroke of good fortune.

Or bad fortune, as it turns out.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook asks quietly, once you two are inside the sleek lobby. "You said you wanted to be left alone."

"I did," you confirm huffily, still embarrassed about your struggle to get inside the building. "I do."

"Then... why are you here?" He takes a look around the lobby, where a handful of people are milling about. “It’s not really a good place for being alone.”

You chew your lip. This is the most Jungkook has ever spoken to you. You consider coming up with a story, but it occurs to you that you don't actually know where Namjoon's studio is located inside the building. You’ll need a guide.

"Namjoon said I could use his studio," you explain, deciding to include as few details as possible about your reasons for being here.

"For what?" His brow furrows.

Why all the questions? You’ve always thought of Jungkook as timid, more the type to stay out of the way if someone is up to something, rather than grilling them. But for all you know, maybe he gets assertive in the workplace. It doesn’t matter. You have bigger concerns right now. "To release my first single, obviously,” you snark, crossing your arms. "Look, I’m here for research, okay? You can either help me, or stay out of my way."

His eyes widen. He's never heard you speak to him as yourself, let alone this brazenly. But to your surprise, he nods. “Okay. What can I do to help?”

Well, damn. You didn’t think he would actually agree. It could be that he wants to report what you do to the other boys, acting like a spy. But you’re only here because Namjoon gave you that key. He can’t fault you for using the collateral that he gave you, right?

Fuck it, you’re tired of second guessing. Now is the time for action. Fuck the consequences.

“Where’s Namjoon’s studio?” You ask him, an edge in your voice. “Show me.”

Jungkook hesitates for only a moment, and then nods. He looks wary, almost nervous, and you have to wonder why. Even with your confidant demands, he still has the power in this situation, as always. You’re a nobody who couldn’t even get in the door without his help, and he actually works here. He could have you thrown out, if he wanted.

The thought sends a bolt of worry right to your chest, and you decide to do everything you can to not remind him of that fact.

After a strangely tense elevator ride, Jungkook silently leads you down several corridors until you come across a frosted glass door.

“Here,” he says, gesturing towards the door.

“This is it?” You ask to confirm, and he nods.

You take a deep breath and retrieve the key from your belt. His eyes widen as you slot the key into the lock, and with a gentle twist, the handle turns.

“Where-” Jungkook’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and you turn around to shush him.

“It was a gift,” you explain icily. “Now, if you’re going to help me, then stay right here and make sure no one comes in, got it?”

His lips purse in suspicion and his eyes narrow, but he nods. “Fine.”

Satisfied, you turn back to the door, and it’s only then that you notice the keypad beneath the lock. Clearly the silver key Namjoon gave you isn’t the only way into his studio, as he had previously implied. Some collateral.

More and more doubts fill your thoughts, but you have no energy left to hesitate as you carefully pull the door open and slip inside their leader’s forbidden sanctuary.

-------

It’s much smaller than you thought. Really, only the size of your walk-in closet.

The silence in the room is palpable, the only noise stemming from the gentle purr of electronics. Your gaze gets stuck on all the collectibles he has on display, all around the room, in glass cases and on shelves. Mickey Mouse bodies, with skulls and crossbones for heads. Everything is black, white, and shades of gray.

They make up the only distraction in the room, but they’re everywhere.

You then notice the only clear surface, or relatively clear, as his desk, opposite the door. A grand computer screen sits front and center, with various equipment stacked around it, and a piano keyboard on a tray beneath the glass desktop.

You hasten across the carpeting, and gingerly pull out his desk chair, plush leather with a high back, ergonomically designed.

It feels like a siren will go off at any moment. You aren’t supposed to be here. You’re intruding.

But you need answers. He gave you the key.

You shake off your sense of foreboding and sit down, swiveling yourself into place. A quick shake of the mouse wakes up his computer.

Fuck.

You need a password. Of course. Nothing in your life can be simple.

After a few moments of muttering and seething in frustration, you try to calm down. Okay, so maybe this won’t be an in and out procedure, maybe this will take a little more thought.

Okay, think, think… what would he use for his password?

“It’s ‘monimoni0613’.”

The voice scares you shitless, and you swivel around to see Jungkook poking his head in the door. He gives you a half smile. “And that’s in Korean. You want help?”

You clutch your chest. “Fuck, don’t scare me like that!” You snap at him, though he doesn’t seem particularly intimidated. How does Namjoon even work with his back to the door like this? You’d be constantly looking over your shoulder. Is he really that trusting of people?

Jungkook doesn’t wait for your answer and comes inside, letting the door fall gently shut behind him. “It’s after his dog,” he says, leaning over you to access the keyboard and quickly type in the password. He smells like shampoo.

Your heart picks up the pace as he hovers over you, his eyes trained on the screen. He’s only inches away from you, his necklace dangles in front of your face in a way that you should not find tantalizing.

“His dog’s name is Moni?” You ask, trying to tell your heart to kindly get a grip. You’re on a mission, no time for horniness.

“Well, ah… yeah. Let’s go with that.” Jungkook makes a slight noise of triumph as the computer unlocks, Namjoon's desktop wallpaper greeting you - yet another skull-headed Mickey.

"Wait, how do you know his password?" You can't help but ask. After the ordeal you went through just to get to his inner sanctum, this feels too easy.

"He lets me use his computer sometimes, for gaming, and stuff…" the boy trails off, looking elsewhere as though embarrassed.

"Okay…" You stare at him. "Thanks for helping."

"You're welcome."

There's an awkward silence.

"Go wait outside." You say.

"Yup." He ducks back out of the room, leaving you to your investigating once more.

You exhale once you're alone again. Okay, where to start? You scan his desktop, but the icons are surprisingly neat. A few programs, a few shortcuts, a few folders, all of which prove fruitless.

The folders contain music program files of what appear to be songs still in the works. Although interesting, not really what you're looking for.

Jesus, how could he trust you with all this? You could leak these to the public. You could sell them, and never have to worry about job security again...

He must be fucking desperate to put his entire career in your hands.

Just like your career currently rests in his own.

You shake off the idea of selling the insider information. Although tempting, right now all you really want is answers as to why the fuck he's doing any of this in the first place. Why did he suspend you? Why did things stop? You had a spotless record up until last night, so… what changed?

You check his recent files next, and happen to find exactly what you're looking for.

Theory - draft for proposal

Seems like a solid lead.

You click the link, and a word document opens up. Unfortunately in Korean.

Of course. Of course he would write in his native language, and of course, it’s only your ComGear that translates messages from the boys, you don���t have bionic vision. There are a few random English words scattered here and there, but not nearly enough to make heads or tails of what the document is about. You could use an online translator, but you need a full understanding of this material, there’s no room for error here.

Should you ask Jungkook? No, you should not. He seems innocent enough, but your sense of self-preservation now overrides any trust you might have once given him. You bite back a groan of frustration and instead mutter a few choice expletives through a heavy, weary sigh.

Then you get an idea.

If your ComGear is what usually does your translating, why not just send this there?

You fumble to highlight the document, then copy it and head over to Namjoon’s email. Yikes. Lots and lots of unread. Well, you can’t blame him with his hectic schedule. You skip over a couple of emails at the top that appear to be from law firms, and instead click to compose a new message.

Fuck, this will leave a trail, won’t it? If he checks his sent emails, he’ll see that you saw… whatever this turns out to be.

It doesn’t matter. He gave you access to this room. He knew the potential consequences.

You paste the body of the document, type in your email address and hit send. Not moments later, there’s a chime on your ComGear, and sure enough, an email has arrived. You don’t get much correspondence these days, apart from your network. Well, your old network. Now your phone constantly has notifications from the chatroom. It feels strangely comforting.

Without another moment’s hesitation, you tap the email and anxiously wait for it to load, praying that the automatic translation feature doesn’t fail you now.

Soon, the English text appears, and your worries are put to rest within the first line.

We must build a brighter future for PhysComs.

[shinymooncolor]

Sweater weather chat #9

A little Friday tribute to @lumosinlove ‘s sweater weather. 

@siriuslyqueer and @wxlfstxrx thanks for helping me through a groundbreaking epiphany. <3 

Sweater weather chat #9

Celeste has plans. Logan mopes. And drives a minivan. Kuny hides in a library. Nado is a star. And the wives call him Jackie. We get some lady love. Cause hockey wives are awesome. The team dads get in trouble. What did happen in Prague? Does mild vodka exist? 

--- 

Thursday 3.42 pm 

Celeste: hi ladies! So, as you know the long dreaded school talent show is looming on the horizon. I don’t know with you -  but that’s a Saturday we will not get back…. Any ideas?? 

Anya: we send our husbands to the show. 😜 zhenya is helping my kids anyways. Not sure how that happened. But him and Jackie came to leech a free dinner and somehow ended up joining the talent show. 

Linnea: that sounds like something that needs to be recorded! I’m up for a spa weekend. God knows I need it. We’re headed for Sweden next month and I need to prepare mentally for my in-laws. 🙊

Celeste: so we agree to send the boys to the show? And get on with a lovely spa weekend ourselves 😍

Allison: I’m in. I love my boys but I’ve seen them dance and heard them sing. Brady has been successfully avoiding the past three events!!! But I’m intrigued about what the hell Kuny and Jackie can help with? 😂 

Anya: I don’t know and I don’t care. It’s sergei problem now. I’ve warned them to keep it kid friendly. Jackie is still a little scared of me, I think. 👻

Celeste: they are good boys but those two. I swear they’re worse than our lot. And that’s saying something. You remember Prague? 😠

Linnea: the one with the flags at worlds? What were they thinking.... 

Allison: oh sounds like there’s a story there! What did they get up to? 🙊

Linnea: let’s get back to that after three bottles of Chardonnay... 

——

Thursday 4.08 pm 

Celeste: you are going to the talent show. And take Logan with you. He’s been moping for a week. He’s such a teenager. 😂 and DONT EVEN THINK ABOUT DRINKING AGAIN. I will tell Logan about Prague. 😠

Dumo: but I have to train. And don’t tell anyone it’ll undermine our authority. 

Celeste: no you don’t have to, it’s optional. Don’t even start Pascal. You’re taking your ragtag team Dads and you’re all going to sit through 3 hours of recorders and botched Disney music. And you’re going to applaud your babies. And please film whatever the terrible two get up to. I’ve seen the outfits. 😂😍😂😍

Dumo: I love you but you’re mean. Enjoy your spa day. What do I get for being good?

Celeste: a wife who won’t make you sleep in the guest room. And if you’re really good we can talk about the white one again. 

Dumo: I’ll be good!!! 😇😇😇😇😇 

Celeste: 😉

——

Thursday 5.00 pm 

Dumo created a group chat. 

Dumo added Sunny, Sergei, Brady, Kuny, Nado and LoganT 

Dumo named the group chat talent show 

Dumo: gentlemen I believe you’ve all had your fates sealed. We’re now sentenced to suffer through the horror of our kids’ school talent show.

LoganT: what am I doing here? I don’t have kids leave me out 

Dumo: you left your disgusting workout clothes in MY basement. Without cleaning it up. You’re coming. Also Leo and Finn are both with their families. And Celeste made me take you cause apparently you’re sad and mopey. 🤓

LoganT: I’m not sad and mopey. I’m brooding and there’s a big difference. 😠

Sunny: you’re 22 and your boyfriends are out of town. Chin up buddy and enjoy a Saturday of off key singing and recorder hell. And you are moping 😆 brooding is for grown-ups… 

Nado: we’d offer to take you to some strip clubs and get you laid but. Well. We don’t really frequent gay bars so. 

Sergei: really? I once had to rescue u 2 from drag club 😂

Nado: it was one time and we didn’t realize until we were inside. Felt like a fucking Kingggg man they know how to party. Wanna go to a drag club baby Logan? Is fun times! 

Kuny: was fun. But we promise to do show with baby Russians he he 👻👻👻👻

Nado: well i didn’t understand what i said yes to. Thought she asked if I wanted to play Pokémon. 😳

Sergei: that’s why she asked. She’s too sneaky. Not like it. What you do for show? 

Nado: no idea. Your wife is making us an outfit and told us to just stand in the background 🙈

Dumo: oh I’m recording this. Anyways there’s never any parking. You’d think with the obscene fees we pay for that school they could at least organize proper parking. Let’s carpool. 😎

LoganT: why are you carpooling? You’ve got like a combined car catalogue of 25 cars....... 

Brady: this is clearly Logan’s first rodeo. Okay. Sergei always brings some Russian elixir of life. So. We need you to drive. 😘

LoganT: IM NOT DRIVING A MINI VAN! IVE GOT A REP 

Nado: there’s alcohol involved? I’m in!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳

Sunny: only way to get through this....😔

Dumo: you don’t have a rep. You have two boyfriends, an accent and a sweaty hat. You’re driving and I’m not going to argue. 😠 

—- 

Saturday 12.33 pm 

Dumodad: if anyone is wondering what the terrible two are up to this fine Saturday. They’re currently in the middle of a moving rendition of Into the Unknown. Yes they’re wearing blue sequins. 🤩

*kuny and nado dressed in blue glitter sequins onesies with a bunch of kids singing into the unknown* 

Prongstar: HHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA WHAT IS GOING ONNNN???? 

Blizzard: well. There’s a future in show biz for those two. 😂 kuznetsov and nadeau the movie. 

Bradygunz: this is giving me some fresh prince vibes little rays of sunshine!!!😂😂😂😂 @talkiewalkie 

Talkiewalkie: yesss!!! Hahahah 😎😎😎

 ——- 

Saturday 1.22 pm 

Sunny: I love my kids but. There’s a reason it’s not a good idea to always just tell kids they’re good at stuff.

Dumo: hahahah the one with the juggling was fun. 

LoganT: why are we still here? I won’t ever get my hearing back after that bag pipe thing. 😭

Sergei: that’s why we drink. I like the politic ones like a kid could ever know so many isms 

Sunny: quit hogging the flask. Gimme. 

Brady: I didn’t know so many isms existed. Pretty sure some of them were just random words. 😂

——

Saturday 2.01 pm

Logantremblayzzz: guess who’s pissed at a kids talent show. Guess who’s hit on every teacher and has suspiciously disappeared and guess who’s somehow ended up in a production of you’re welcome from Moana? 

Sirius: this is fun.... 1) the dads are pissed. I went to a school play with them once. Sergei brought his flask? 2) I wanna say Nado 3) Kuny? 

Blizzard: ohhh I’ve got 2/3 swapped - Kuny can’t sing in English... and nado’s got the tattoos 😂

Eliascookie: I wanna know more about the sequins? 🥳

Prongstar: tell us!!!  

Logantremblayzzz: 1) yes the dads. Sergei swears it’s only mild vodka. But they’re definitely not sober. 2) Kuny was missing but I found him. He is hiding in the library. 3) yes Nado has somehow ended up on stage again. He’s doing that pec thing it’s weird. I swear the moms here are swooning. He signed someone’s bra. ITS A SCHOOL. 

KrisVolley: you’re just cranky that you had to drive the mini van. Haha! 😂

CarbO’Hara: Logan! You drove a minivan? 🤪🤪🤪🤪 cuteeee 

Logantremblayzzz: it’s stupid and ugly. 🥴 

Dumodad: suits you then 🤪

Logantremblayzzz: I’m telling your wives. 

Sergei_81: no Logan. Don’t be mean. U can have my car 

Bradygunz: we don’t tell Celeste when you leo and Finn cause problems!!!! 

Dumodad: he’s bluffing! Remember who let you live FOR FREE in his basement! I do your laundry and feed you. 

Logantremblayzzz: celeste feeds me and does laundry. You’re just as much a leech. 

Dumodad: I pay for things. 😠

RussianGod: I don’t know where are. Books everywhere help I hide from moms so many everywhere 😳😳😳😳

Ollibear: someone please rescue Kuny before the soccer moms kidnap him 😂

Timmyforrealz: wow Kuny go get some cougar love 🐯🐯🐯🐯🐯 hehehehe 

RussianGod: I scared. Help. @dumodad @logantremblayzzz @sergei_81!!!!!! Help help 

Sunnysideup: DONT flirt with them then. You asked for it. I’ll come get you. Stay in the library. You’re missing nado singing. 

——

Saturday 2.12 pm 

Logan: hey Celeste. Show is ok. How’s the spa??? ❤️❤️❤️

Celeste: charmer... it’s fine thank you - how are the boys?

Logan: uh. Well. 

Celeste: one sec love. 

—-

Celeste added Logan to the group chat 

Celeste: hi Logan! Please tell us about the show. How did the terrible two do with their performance 

Logan: well Katya got scared and refused to go on stage so Kuny had to hold her hand. It was really cute. Loved the outfits. They’re definitely never forgetting that 😂 other than that your husbands are sneaking drinks from sergei’s flask and Nado has been in stage for the past three performances 

Anya: he did what? I will kill him. Thank you for telling us Logan. Tell zhenya to be careful. Soccer moms are hungry.

Logan: will do. Want me to kick your husbands? 

Anya: no love. We have our own ways to punish our idiots 😈

Linnea: thanks Logan! 

Celeste removed Logan from the group chat. 

Celeste: well. I knew we couldn’t leave them alone. But the plan worked well - they’ve now signed themselves up for the events for the rest of the school year! 😎

Allison: 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 

—-

Celeste: Logan texted me. Do you have any idea how much trouble you all are in? Also someone go rescue Kuny. He’s not ready for a soccer mom. 😈

Dumo: I’m gonna kill that kid. Also sorry. But. There was a BAGPIPE. You’re very pretty and beautiful and I love you. Sunny has gone to rescue Kuny. 

Celeste: hmm. How are you going to fix it? 

Dumo: I’ll show you 😜 on my knees 👅

Celeste: 😈

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.6

Holy Wrath

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)       x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 2380

Summary: Things get messier. ‘Natasha Rogers’ is not the only lost soul... and God always works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?

Warnings: mentions of violent deaths and torture, amnesia, swearing, supernatural stuff... and angst with some hope in it ;)

Story masterlist

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Two businessmen faced each other in a shadowy room with unpleasantly sterile lights; an attentive eye would recognize they found themselves in a vault due to the heavy door with a golden wheel opening and the drawers lining the walls. A small army of heavily armed men along said cases created an air of being secure as much as in danger.

Just standing in such room put a weight on one’s chest – especially with the terrifying chair with straps and heavy panels ready to ruin human mind, a tranquilized man trapped in it.

Of course, one of the men facing each other, the older looking one, had no reason to feel threatened. He was simply doing business here and the army was at his side. His wrinkled face was scrunched in a grimace though, deeply discontent as he stared at the other man in no less expensive suit, but with an almost friendly glint in his eyes, a bit goofy face with a beard, framed by curly dark hair.

One would feel pressured in such space to begin with, but now, the two ‘businessmen’ built up an atmosphere nearly suffocating, a tension cuttable with a knife. The suspicious calmness of the goofy man was extremely irritating to the other.

Because clearly, they had made a mistake. A really fucking big one. The blond old man clenched his fists as he continued the rather loud conversation with the man who had showed up out of nowhere, claiming to share his interests and offering a lot of money.

Dammit, he should have known better than take an advice from him!

The mess they were in now!

“You said that killing her will bring a stop to the Avengers, because he was sickeningly in love with her,” the blond strained through his teeth, tone dangerous to cover up his growing fear for their mission. “That he will be grieving so much that he won’t be able to fight! He’s fighting like a madman!”

The dark-haired man only smiled, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Perhaps he reacted differently than we expected him to.”

“PERHAPS!!” echoed in the vault madly, making several people flinch. Not the one who was being parroted mockingly and with rage though. “He’s taking down our facilities. One. By. One!”

“Seems like fate wanted it that way. Or, you know, God’s will-“

“I don’t give a damn about God’s will!” the blond sputtered back.

His business partner made a face, his grimace as if saying ‘ouch’. His tone when he spoke up told the same tale. “Well, I…. I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”

“Why? Because the holy wrath will be set upon me? Please. There’s no God. And if there was, he sure would like me doing what-”

The blond’s bright blue eyes seemed to bulge sickeningly as his fingers reached for his throat, struggling to take a breath all of sudden, unable to finish his sentence. He stumbled back with an accusing and yet bewildered gaze, causing all of the men draw their weapons and aim them at the supposed enemy.

An enemy who only tilted his head, otherwise not doing a thing. Was he even the cause of the older man choking? He couldn’t, right?  How would he?

“Wh-ah-I..?”

With a flick of a hand, all of the soldiers fell to the ground, unconscious.

The men who were sitting at the monitoring would have seen that it happened all over the facility, hidden in one of the biggest bank in Washington, but they didn’t – they lost consciousness as well.

The goofy man gave his partner a tight-lipped smile, almost patronizing.

“Ah. I don’t know. ‘He who lies in His name shall choke on his own false tongue’ feels pretty real now, doesn’t it?” he exclaimed and repeated the motion that had sent all of the armed men to the floor. He pointed at his hand then, grinning like a kid, genuinely excited. “I love to do that for effect. I don’t have to, a thought would be enough, but the dramatics is exceptional.”

He snapped his fingers then, suddenly standing in front the choking man in more comfortable clothes of jeans and lose plaid shirt. He allowed the other man to breathe in so he wouldn’t pass out; yet, he wouldn’t be able to speak just yet.

“If I had let you continue your… master plan without my good advice, you just might have succeeded,” he hummed, strolling through the sea of sleeping men, careful not to step on any. He shook his head, a parent’s disproval, a disappointed Father regretting not raising his sons better. “But humans, like every other creations, no matter how beautiful, are flawed. Money, oh money… why are you, my children so greedy, so trustful to anyone who offers you a coin….”

“Grzhmchr-“ was the only sound leaving the other man’s throat as he fell to his knees, fear flashing in his eyes along with more and more confusion.

“What can I say. Nobody’s perfect. And strings of fate are funny things when played right… they can orchestrate a lovely sound,” the dark-haired man mused, turning to face his former partner fully. “Have a good day, Director Pierce. The Avengers should find you here at their next mission.”

With the last words spoken, Director Pierce’s grip on his own throat eased and his body fell limp to the ground. The other man smiled when he saw his chest rise and fall periodically, assured none of these men were actually dead. That wasn’t the plan, after all. They needed to face a different kind of justice.

He glanced at the electric chair then and the man lying there, breathing shallow, heart-rate alarmingly low for anyone but him and one more person whose cells had been modified to endure almost anything… even an explosion despite running straight into it.

“Ah, such troubled soul…” the powerful man sighed longingly, his face twisting with sympathy no one had provided to the prisoner not only of war, but also his own body. He walked to him slowly, a healing hand hovering over the man’s forehead. “You lived through more than you should have, my friend. You shall start your healing.”

The soft light shone above the pale skin, gently sweeping in, illuminating the veins running over the surface, disappearing in the messy hairline. The lying man blinked his eyes open and quickly backed into the backrest before his training kicked in.

It was just such a confusing wake-up. He felt too lightheaded, his chest less constricted than usual, missing a crushing weight. His thoughts… flowed in an unfamiliar way – a way he forgot that existed. His instincts screamed to reach for the other man’s throat to grab him and interrogate him, because he wasn’t his master, but… at the same time, he didn’t quite want to do that. No one told him to do so. He felt uneasy and bewildered, yes, but not in danger.

Still, he listened to his training and his hand shot up, only to grasp thin air. The man had already moved away, causing the freshly woken up man blink in surprise and break his bonds instinctively to follow.

But the man, who had forced him to wake up after they had sedated him, smiled at him kindly. It scared the shit out of him, not that he would admit it. Kindness scared him – he wasn’t used to it, not really, not anymore. Whenever someone showed some, it came with a price of a human life. Now, his mind flooded with images of empty eyes, accusing him of doing the wrong thing instead of a right one as he had been promised.

And this man was to blame for these overwhelming sensations, perhaps was responsible of the men on the floor too.

Were those… masters of his… unconscious? Dead? No, no dead, their chest was rising and falling. Only not conscious then. Who the hell was this man?

“Who-what-?” he choked out, glaring at the stranger. Why hadn’t he attacked him yet? Didn’t give him an order, said the words that… would they still do that to him? That… that thing when his body wasn’t quite his? Flip the switch?

The switch… it seemed to be missing now. Where the hell had it gone?

“Sergeant Barnes, welcome back.”

“How- what did you-- who are you?” Barnes finally sat up straight, his head swimming unpleasantly. He overcame it and forced himself to stand.

Holy shit, the world was spinning. Also, it wasn’t any making sense, sending one confusing signal after another. Barnes’ mind was a mess. He remembered this was his name, even though lately he had been called that name rather mockingly, more used to being a soldat.

The only other conscious man held out his hand as if in a comforting gesture.

“Easy. I’m not here to hurt you. But unless you want to be found by the Avengers, by heroes who include your best friend, you better go find your peace and meet them when you’re ready.”

Forget about the world not making sense. Now it went entirely crazy.

Best friend. Steve. Could this man talk about Steve? Avengers? Who the hell were the Avengers? So many images flickered through his head, but it didn’t include any… Avengers. Images of the past, tens of years ago, clear and sharp as they shouldn’t be, an angry tiny blond swaying his fists and wishing to take on the world and then suddenly growing several inches, and all of that mingled with fragments of memories not quite his and yet his only. What year was it anyway?

He grasped on the only thing that seemed to comfort him, ground him, the only thing he was sure of.

“My best friend? It’s… is Steve still alive? It’s been about seventy years-“ Right? “-on and off— how do I know that? Shit, what did I do?”

The empty eyes staring at him. Oh god, the empty eyes... life vanishing under his hands – a flesh one and a metal one – hands crimson with blood…

His breathing picked up, his head pounding with an ache unknown and the other man grimaced again at the agony he saw. He didn’t think he should interfere more though – Barnes needed to deal with this on his own terms.

“Calm down, James. None of that was your fault and until you accept that, you’d better off without them. The Avengers,” he explained, but the soldier would have none of it, the horrifying images, feeling so disgustingly wrong as his little soul had been locked in a mind of a dull servant, crying when taking a life.

“I… the things I did, oh my god-”

“You are not to blame for what they forced you to do. I could make you forget, but that would only complicate things,” the bearded man thought out loud, only brining more chaos with his words. He tried his best to sound soothing. “Try to forgive yourself and when the time is right… you’ll see your friend again.”

“He might be dead by then!” Barnes blurted out, suddenly overtaken by panic. Steve was alive. If this man was right and Steve was alive – how did he know that, who was he, how- Steve. That little punk letting the army experiment on him only to- where was he, how was he, what- “He’s like… what year it is exactly?”

“2013,” came the resigned reply.

“He’s ninety-five. Ninety-five! If he’s still l alive, I have to see him!”

The calmer man held out his hand again when the soldier unmistakably headed to the exit. “He’s been met with nearly same fate, James. Do not worry about his vessel. He is well. I mean… kinda. He’s been on edge, lately.”

Barnes wavered. This man had been gentle with him, as if he wanted to help. He knew way too many things, probably not lying so far. It was all kinds of fishy.

“Alright, I’m gonna ask again. Who are you?” the soldier demanded, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t feel the need to actually attack the man and he didn’t know why and he was afraid and confused and everything hurt, his arm felt heavy despite the muscles adapting ages ago and he had to see Steve if he was still freaking alive and- but after everything he had done--

“You’re not asking the right questions. Go, James. Find your place in the world again and learn about what happened to your friend,” the man advised again patiently. He beckoned to the men on the floor; instinctively, Bucky knew they were bad. Rotten even, and not just because he could suddenly see through all their lies. How, by the way? “Leave these men for the Avengers to find. They are not your problem, I’ll take care of them. You’re free now.”

Bucky Barnes looked around, not assured. His heart was racing, almost as fast as his mind. He had messed up the world, hadn’t he? The least he could so was to deliver these men to… what, police? Justice?

“But-“ he started up defensively, but out of blue, he found himself in a dark alley – and the man was still facing him.

What the fuck got him here and was this man some sort of a… was magic a thing? This couldn’t be result of some serum, right?

“You-“

“Go,” the man asked of him kindly, adding a smile that looked even goofy, in a stark contrast to his serious eyes. “What you saw, that’s how the justice will find them.”

Was this guy a friggin’ mind-reader too?!

“What the hell?!” Bucky just choked out, frantically scanning his surroundings.

Where was he anyway? The noise of today’s world was hurting his ears. What was he supposed to do? He only knew mission for the past decades, his will not even his own, how was he supposed to proceed?

Finding peace as the man had told him wasn’t exactly a precise order – and yet it was, the most difficult order he could remember receiving.

“Goodbye,” said the man for a good measure, walking away and leaving the poor soldier dumbstruck in a foreign city, in a foreign life.

Barnes stared after him, unable to say a word, unable to move a single muscle. Then, before disappearing among the people roaming the streets in what could be a very late hour, the mysterious powerful man glanced over his shoulder with a last smile and whispered barely audible – not for supersoldier’s ears though.

“Oh, and Bucky? Name’s Chuck.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 7

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Alternative chapter title – Let’s Make Things a Bit Messier ;) If you didn’t watch Supernatural, Chuck is… Chuck is a powerful being and you might have figured out who exactly… yes, SPN went there.

One more surprise appearance in the next chapter ;)

Thank you for reading! 

[sugarysweetinfatuation]

[Desperate Coincidences| Yandere!Izuku x Reader]

[Just a writing warm-up tbh because my writing skills are rusty]

You would’ve never thought that a student of the hero course would be so...into you.

It shouldn’t have happened, hell it never would’ve had happened anyways if it weren’t for coincidences and life’s sick way of twisting you until your bones threatened to snap. 

It had been a rainy day, the kind that settled a chill into your bones and left your fingers achingly numb and unable to work properly. You had fumbled with your lock, muttering a soft curse underneath your breath when you heard a loud crashing thud nearby. 

‘‘Kacchan!’’ you heard a desperate, high-pitched voice call out, pleading as another loud boom of noise followed and the rumble of debris hitting the ground. You met the eyes of another student from general studies, from the class next door, and both of you simultaneously shook your heads. Goddamn those fucking hero students.

A blur of yellow and red burst past you, smelling like ash and the crackling scent of fire and spewing out a long string of swears underneath his breath. You cocked a brow, turning around to try to get your locker open when something green collided into you, sending you tumbling to the ground.

‘‘I’m so so sorry,’‘ that same voice that had called out Kacchan earlier spoke and you looked up, grimacing at the extended hand before taking it and allowing yourself to be hauled up firmly by the green-haired boy,’‘ I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’m so sorry again can I do someth-?’‘

You held up a finger to silence the blubbering boy before reaching into your pocket, fumbling around in its depths before extracting a single, slightly crumpled pink bandaid with cute little red hearts splattered across the surface. You noticed his confused look and extended your arm, holding out the bandaid.

‘’Nah, I’m good,’’ you shook your head, forcing yourself to smile at least somewhat kindly,’’ You got a little cut here though from whatever that fiery hero bastard did. Must think he’s tough shit like the other hero course students just because of some half-assed quirk when he’s not really that special, huh?’’

The green-haired boy took the bandaid, his fingers trembling slightly, and he looked caught off by the words.

‘‘Kacchan isn’t like that! Heros aren’t like that either. Everyone,’‘ the green-haired boy paused in his passionate burst of words, looking flustered but still pressing on,’‘ Everyone I know deserves the title hero, always fighting even when their limits have been met. We may not be special, but please don’t look down on us like that!’‘

You exhaled at his words, looking sheepish and feeling like a bitch before you spoke,’’ I’m sorry for what I assumed. I’m having a shitty day and I took it out I suppose. I hope that cut gets better and, uh, I’m sorry?’’

You grabbed your slippers and quickly put them on, feeling flustered before you hurried away to your first class, leaving the hero course student dumbfounded and staring after you. He stared down at the bandaid, his cheeks suddenly burning a hot red, feeling overwhelmed. 

‘‘I-I can’t believe I said all of that,’‘ Izuki muttered softly to himself, clutching the band-aid tightly in his grip,’‘ She was so pretty up close.’‘

You never knew this, but the boy, Midoriya Izuku, never put on the bandaid, putting it on a desk next to the picture of you he had found in a yearbook and delicately spent an hour cutting out. 

But you knew one thing, and that was that after this coincidental meeting, you saw the green-haired boy everywhere.

He was everywhere you went, standing around in the hallway talking to some tall dark blue-haired boy you recognized as Iida Tenya of class 1-A even though his class was very far away, eating lunch a table away from you during lunch, hanging out near your locker, and even walking the same way home as you after classes.

You had written it off a mere coincidence, thinking that it definitely couldn’t have been because of you that this was all happening because you were a normal student from general studies with a small minor quirk and he was, which you later learned, Midoriya Izuku, one of the most popular hero course students with a quirk that easily brought yours to shame. So why, why would he be into you.

So you didn’t even blink when you noticed things missing from your room, small hair ties and scraps of clothing vanishing in a blink of an eye, or when there seemed to be that itching, blood-curdling feeling of someone watching you at every single hour of the day.

At least that’s what you thought before he showed up to your class on White day, breathless and kneeling over with a large stuffed animal tucked underneath his arm, a box of chocolates nearly crushed underneath his nervous grip.

‘‘I’m looking for (L/n)! (L/n) (Y/n)!’‘ he had breathed out quickly and everyone had turned to you. You froze, turning to look at the breathless green-haired boy whose eyes were locked on you, determination flashing over his eyes. 

‘‘Will you go out with me?’‘ his voice was loud as he bent over, his arms extended straight out to show his gifts like a sacrifice before a deity. Your mouth fell open, soundless words coming out of your mouth as you made panicked eye contact with your classmates. They all did a thumbs-up in response, grinning and nodding frantically. You felt hopelessly trapped, wanting to curl into yourself and pretend that this, that this wasn’t happening. That the boy destined to be the next All Might wasn’t here and that he definitely wasn’t into you and that you weren’t going to find yourself forced into a relationship with a boy that you had spoken maybe 3 sentences to before. 

‘‘Um,’‘ your voice was meek as you shrunk into your seat under everyone’s intense stares, feeling vulnerable and weak,’‘ Ok?’‘

Loud cheering came out of your classmates, everyone whooping in delight, and you could even see some of the students from class 1-A standing outside the door of your class, grinning at Izuku’s success. 

You couldn’t help thinking to yourself as Izuku came closer, pressing his gifts into your arms and grinning widely, his eyes watery as he unnoticeably took a deep gulp of your nearby scent, what the hell did you get yourself into?

After all, everything that happened, from each missing piece of object stolen from your room and placed gently on a desk next to an oddly familiar pink bandaid with small red hearts, wasn’t just a coincidence. It was, by Izuku’s perception, fate. And he was desperate to prove it to you. 

[pinkykitten]

I was tagged by @writing-with-melon I hope my answers aren’t complete waste or if time and if so I’m sorry and I love you

Rules: Answer ten 10 questions, ask 10, and tag 10 people

1. What song automatically plays in your head when you look out the window on a long drive? 

i dont really have an answer for this. i think i just automatically think about any song ive been listening to recently or any song that has been stuck in my head. 

2.  Do you have some snacks nearby when you write?

well i live in a two story house so the kitchen is downstairs and im usually lazy busy so since i have a mini fridge upstairs i just usually get water to drink while im writing. its kinda hard to eat and write cuz i loose focus really easily so when i am writing i am writing! i am in the zone! but if i am a little hungry ill usually snack on candy like chocolate kinder joys i love them but they r so expensive or snack on chips but i get like salt on my fingers or i like cheetos so cheetos dust and that just gets everywhere and later my hands and keyboard kinda smell like fart. 3. What do you do to combat creative burnout?

so burnout happens to me a lot so to get inspiration i either read other stories or fanfics which gets my head gears turning or i admire a piece of art or photography or a song. whats so unique and satisfying with writing you can explore and go anywhere with it, hehehe erotic if you know what i mean lol jk there are no barriers with writing just your imagination. there is inspiration any where you go and id advise to never stop writing. even if its a few short sentences or paragraphs about anything even bird poop its still progression and your mind is working and your searching for words like its all good for you bby.  4. Do you use (or like to use) prompts? 

i do ill put the link here. im thinking of changing it though to do something different. 

5. What is your favorite place to write?

lol boring, i know but my room. my room is really bright in the mornings and comfortable and chill and i have a candle of the pandora ride in disney that smells like the ride so its all good and relaxing and super peaceful plus i have a picture of myself the age of like 9 on my desk idk why but it encourages me and makes me focus to make sure i never get that cringy again. 

6. What is a hobby or yous that you usually don’t talk about?

well i like working out HAHAHAHAHA jk that was a joke...get it...cuz i much rather be eatingokillstop. but i really like to draw which i have a art page you can see it if you click here pls look at my failed attempts to be hip and cool with the cool kids and being artsy fartsy. another hobby is i really like to do makeup and nail art, nail art is really tough guys no joke if you do it like you got wizard powers are something. maybe its bc my nails are shorter than pete davidson and ariana grande’s relationship, alright im trying to stop i swear!

7. Do you play an instrument? Which one?

no i wish though. i always wanted to learn to either play the piano or electric guitar cuz H.E.R looks so cool doing it. 

8. How do you feel about your handwriting?

it sucks dont even try me. my sister can barely read it like no wonder nobody wants to steal my signature heck they can’t even read it!

9. Can you tell us of a story that marked your development as a person? As a writer?

ok sit back guys, sniff a nice amount of crack and get ready for the most cringy moment of my life but also a time when i knew i was meant to be *inhale* a fanfic writer. 

so it was elementary school, i think 3rd grade and for my writing assignment we were given a prompt of idk what the heck tbh i think it was like be outside the box and im like ok imma nail this cuz im a weird child and yeah so i got my papers and pencil and i went TO TOWN on this paper. so i wrote two stories. one short story with a picture to go with it and one long story that yeah i buried years ago. so my first story was about a farmer was about that farming life. he had chickens and dairy. so i cant remember if the cheese was spoiled but doesnt matter. anywho these cheese and a chicken were alive like they could talk in the story and i gave them faces, yikes. but the whole story was the farmer was a b*tch and he was trying to eat the chicken and cheese so they hatched a plan to get away from the farmer. they did it successfully and they ran away. yay happy ending my teacher actually liked that one me too and my school mates were thinking what they heck is this girl on i made a story about how me and justin bieber made cookies for Christmas you know. so then my other story i was more proud of this one cuz it was a tone of paper, sorry trees, and this story was about how a female hippo (girl i was all about plus size and thicker girls and no body shaming) and an male ostrich were kidnapped from their own habitats and taken to become circus animals. failed version of Madagascar hey mine was before the circus movie OK THEY STOLE IT FROM MEEEEE. so they get taken and are treated to harsh punishment and the animals can talk and i think its in the point of view of the male ostrich guy thing. they are in the circus and they start to have this relationship happening. love starts blossoming its all good. im happy with this cuz i believed in love at age of 8. they find a way thru a kick butt scene of the animals escaping and the hippo and ostrich are so in love that they run away together and they have half hippo half ostrich babies and i think i named the species  hipstrich or like ostppo idk but i was so proud of this story and when my teacher read it she was worried about me lol i think she thought i might like mate these two animals like secretly idk but she was like it was ok and i was like what this is frickin William Shakespeare writing or like F. Scott Fitzgerald writing. nevertheless it taught me a lesson that nobody else needs to like what im writing the main point and only thing that matters is if your proud of it and you like it and i really did. i will remember that story forever and thats what made me want to be a writer. lol sorry that was a lot. 

10. @emdop I’m going to use this great question: Explain one of your WIPs in the most ridiculous way possible. 

wellllll im working on my peaky blinders oc story its a lot of drugs money killing weapons jewelry rich profanities like its the show but written from my stubby hands so my oc and whatever its great and so excited to show it to you guys. 

MY QUESTIONS:

1. WHAT MADE YOU WANT TO START TUMBLR?

2. IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANYTHING OF THIS WORLD, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

3. WHAT QUALITY IS IMPORTANT TO YOU?

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OUTFIT?

5. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE?

6. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SONG IN THE WHOLE WORLD?

7. IF YOU COULD VISIT A PLACE, WHERE WOULD IT BE?

8. WHAT SHOW OR MOVIE UNIVERSE WOULD YOU WANT TO BE IN?

9. WHAT IS THE SCARIEST MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE?

10. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE IN THIS WORLD THAN ANYTHING ELSE?

im tagging: @thatlittlered, @ardentmuse, @acciosnapes, @lotsoffandomimagines, @collecting-stories, @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms, @naughtyneganjdm, @lenahellgizibe and two random followers @spiritsent, @sucker-for-my-fandoms

i was tagged by @writing-with-melon again ty btw, ps i felt so much pressure lol jk 😊

Rules: Answer 5 questions, Ask 5 questions, Tag 5 people.

1. What is your favorite book?

fifty shades of grey hahaha naw my favorite book is obv you all know this is series of unfortunate events but i never usually cry period and i never cry for books ever so when i read mrs. tom thumb by melanie benjamin, its the part when her sister minnie dies i cried so hard idk it was just emotional the wording the way she described her pain it was so beautiful written yet so sad and that was just amazing to me cuz im like this book made me feel things and im like wow i would love to write a book one day and make someone feel something whether it be sadness anger happiness annoyance anything they are having an emotion and that is super powerful to do that with just words. pls go check out that book its a good read. also im a fan of the greatest showman so i really enjoyed it. there are many other books tho that i thoroughly enjoy so much. 

2. What piece that you’ve written are you most proud of?

oh my god ive always wanted to be asked this question hands down i am always proud of my platonic gender neutral tony stark fic called in·con·sol·a·ble window to me i wrote it so sad and i was feeling like depressed lol when i saw peter die in infinity war like i didnt know what to do with my life tbh but im so glad that @impetrichorny requested it tysm i just like how its not based on romance or fluff or happiness it is based on when you lose someone the nightmares and sadness you go through and that there is nothing nobody can do about it except just be there for that person so i really like writing angst and something that was out of the box. ive been thinking tho of doing a part two since the fate of all the characters has changed after endgame. who knows tho. 

3. What is the last song that inspired you? 

well for art it would have to good news by mac miller when i did that kobe bryant memorial on my art page. i dont want to give it away though but ill just say some very powerful womens music inspired my oc writing and making. 

4. How do you feel about letting people read what you write?

at first i was scared cuz i thought i wrote like trash which that feeling kinda doesnt go away like some days i feel that way others i feel confident or it depends on the request it just depends but anyways i was always insecure about my writing so when i started writing it was more like lets see how this goes if not ill delete the whole page. im glad to say it went great but in the begging it was hard cuz i kept putting myself down but i learned to accept or just understand that you keep learning with writing you always learn knew things with writing how you can explain something better or you words get more intricate and people see the improvement and you do too thats why i applaud those who dont speak english that english isnt their first language. you are doing a tremendous job and keep practicing cuz you’re gonna make it to the top. ive also learned that some days are not my days and you can take time off when youre not feeling it when you have writers block. just recollect your juices sip some tea go to the beach relax your mind a little and take as long as you need to come back and give it your all. also comments and reblogs and likes a follows those meant so much to me and encouraged me. thats why i cant express it enough how much all those mean to writers, artist, photographers, anybody who is truly trying their hard in this area of social media. its makes a person happy smile and confident in their writing but first train your mind into loving what you make not what others thing. you have to be happy with the outcome that is what truly matters and what makes your writing the best. look at me getting philosophical. 

5. Do you get distracted easily? If yes with what?

yes and with porn haha i get distracted easily like very easily homeschooling was really tough for me. music distracts me, netflix, the urge to watch david dobrik or unus annus or buzzfeed unsolved on youtube, heck my farts distract me. i gotta be like troy bolton i gotta get my HEAD IN THE GAME!

MY QUESTIONS:

1. IF YOU COULD BE NAMED SOMETHING ELSE, WHAT WOULD YOU BE NAMED?

2. WHAT PERSON INSPIRES YOU THE MOST?

3. IF YOU KNEW THE WORLD WAS ENDING TOMORROW WHAT WOULD YOU DO TODAY?

4. WHAT DO YOU OFTEN THINK ABOUT IN THE SHOWER?

5. WHATS YOUR WEIRD COMBINATION FOOD?

im tagging: @thatlittlered​, @ardentmuse​, @acciosnapes​, @lotsoffandomimagines​, @collecting-stories​ AND WHOEVER WANTS TO DO THIS IF YOU FOLLOW ME OR LIKE MY STORIES TAG ME ILL READ YOUR ANSWERS. HOPE I DID THIS RIGHT SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING MWUAH 

[way-down-meme-town]

Hadestown Act II Sentence Meme

Under the cut you will find 179 lyrics from the musical Hadestown to use for your roleplaying purposes! Have fun!

Our Lady of the Underground 1. “I don’t know about you, boys, but if you’re like me then hanging around this manhole is bringing you down.”

2. “Cabin fever is a-settin’ in. You’re stir crazy.”

3. “I can give you what it is you crave, a little something from the good old days.”

4. “I got the wind right here in a jar.”

5. “I got the rain on tap at the bar.”

6. “I got sunshine up on the shelf.”

7. “Our lady of the underground!”

8. “Wanna know my name? I’ll tell you my name.”

9. “Let me guess, it’s the little things you miss.”

10. “Maybe you’re looking for some stronger stuff.”

11. “I got a sight for the sorest eye. When was the last time you saw the sky?”

12. “Wipe away your tears. I know how you feel. I can see you’re blinded by the sadness of it all.”

13. “Look a little closer and there’s a crack in the wall.”

14. “You want the moon? Yeah, I got her too.”

15. “A little moonshine ain’t no sin.”

16. “Tell my husband to take his time!”

17. “What the boss don’t know, the boss don’t mind.”

  Way Down Hadestown (Reprise) 18. “The deal is signed?”

19. “I did what I had to do.”

20. “They cane hear, but they don’t care.”

21. “No one has a name down here.”

22. “They can look but they don’t see.”

23. “Your eyes will look that way someday.”

24. “You kissed your little life goodbye.”

25. “Hades laid his hands on you and gave you everlasting life.”

26. “Your place on the assembly line replaces all your memories.”

27. “What do you mean I’ll look like that?”

28. “That’s what it looks like to forget.”

29. “You see, it’s like I said before. A lot can happen behind closed doors.”

30. “A lot of souls have gotta die.”

31. “A lot of spirits gotta break, to make the underworld go round.”

  Flowers 32. “What I wanted was to fall asleep, close my eyes, and disappear like a petal on a stream, a feather on the air.”

33. “I trembled when he laid me out. You won’t feel a thing he said, when you go down.”

34. “Nothing gonna wake you now.”

35. “Dreams are sweet, until they’re not.”

36. “Men are kind, until they aren’t.”

37. “Flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart.”

38. “Is anybody listening? I open my mouth and nothing comes out.”

39. “Flowers. I remember fields of flowers.”

40. “I remember someone by my side, turned his face to mine, and then I turned away into the shade.”

41. “You, the one I left behind, if you ever walk this way, come and find me lying in the bed I made.”

  Come Home With Me (Reprise) 42. “I called your name before.”

43. “Whatever happened, I’m to blame.”

44. “How’d you get beyond the wall?”

45. “I sang a song so beautiful stones wept and they let me in. I can sing us home again.”

  Papers (Intro) 46. “I don’t’ think we’ve met before. You’re not from around here, son.”

47. “Don’t know who the hell you are, but I can tell you don’t belong.”

48. “Go back to where you came from. You’re on the wrong side of the fence.”

49. “This poor boy raised up his voice with his heart out on his sleeve.”

50. “I’m not goin’ back alone. I came to take her home!”

51. “Who the hell do you think you are? Who the hell you think you’re talkin’ to?”

52. “She couldn’t go anywhere even if she wanted to.”

53. “You’re not from around here, son. If you were, then you would know that everything and everyone in Hadestown I own.”

54. “I only buy what others choose to sell.”

55. “You didn’t know? She signed the deal herself and now she belongs to me.”

56. “Everybody gather round! Everybody look and see what becomes of trespassers with no respect for property.”

  Nothing Changes 57. “Why the struggle? Why the strain?”

58. “Why make trouble? Why make scenes?”

59. “Why go against the grain, why swim upstream?”

60. “It ain’t no use. You’re bound to lose.”

61. “What’s the purpose of a man? Just to turn his eyes away?”

62. “What’s the use of his backbone if he never stands upright?”

63. “Who are they to say what the truth is anyway?”

64. “The ones who tell the lies are the solemnest to swear.”

65. “The ones who load the dice always say the toss is fair.”

66. “The ones who deal the cards are the ones who take the tricks with their hands over their hearts while we play the game they fix.”

67. “The ones who speak the words always say it is the last.”

68. “No answer will be heard to the question no one asks.”

69. “I believe our answer matters more than anything they say.”

70. “I believe if there is still a will, then there is still a way.”

71. “I believe in us together more than anyone alone.”

72. “I believe that with each other, we are stronger than we know.”

73. “I believe that we are many. I believe that they are few, and it isn’t for the few to tell the many what is true.”

74. “Is it true? Is it true what they say?”

  How Long 75. “What are you afraid of? He’s just a boy in love.”

76. “Have a drink, why don’t you?”

77. “I’ve had enough. He loves that girl!”

78. “He has the kind of love for her that you and I once had.”

79. “The girl means nothing ot me.”

80. “All of the sorrow won’t fit in his chest. It just burns like a fire in the pit of his chest.”

81. “Nothing comes of wishing on stars.”

82. “Nothing comes of the songs people sing, however sorry they are.”

83. “Give them a piece, they’ll take it all.”

84. “Show them a crack, they’ll tear down the wall.”

85. “Lend them an ear and the kingdom will fall.”

86. “The kingdom will fall for a song.”

87. “What does he care for the logic of kings? The laws of your underworld?”

88. “It is only for love that he sings.”

89. “He sings for the love of a girl.”

90. “You and your pity don’t fit in my bed.”

91. “How long? Just as long as I am your wife.”

92. “It’s true the earth must die, but then the earth comes back to life and the sun must go on rising.”

  Chant (Reprise) 93. “Why do we turn away when our brother is bleeding?”

94. “Why do we build the wall and then call it freedom?”

95. “If we’re free, tell me why I can’t look in my brothers eye?”

96. “Young man, got to hand it to you. Guess you don’t scare easy, do ya?”

97. “It seems your song made quite a strong impression on my wife.”

98. “It takes more than singin’ songs to keep a woman in your arms.”

99. “Take it from a man no longer young if you want to hold a woman, hang a chain around her throat made of many carat gold.”

100. “If I raise my head, could I change my fate?”

101. “If I raise my voice, could I change the way it is?”

102. “Why do we turn away instead of standing with him?”

103. “Why are we digging our own graves for a living?”

104. “If we’re free, tell me why we can’t even stand upright?”

105. “If we’re free, tell me when we can stand with our fellow man?”

106. “Young man, I was young once too. Sang a song of love like you.”

107. “I too was left behind, turned on one too many times. Now I sing a different song.”

108. “You hear that heavy metal sound? The symphony of Hadestown.”

109. “Young man you can sing your ditty. I conduct the electric city.”

110. “Give me one more song before I send you to the great beyond where nobody can hear you singing.”

111. “Sing a song for me.”

112. “Make the king feel young again. Sing for an old man.”

  Epic III 113. “I know how it was because he was like me, a man in love with a woman.”

114. “You didn’t know how and you didn’t know why, but you know what you wanted to take her home.”

115. “You saw her alone there, against the sky. It was like she was someone you’d always known.”

116. “It was like you were holding the world when you held her, like yours were the arms that the whole world was in.”

117. “There were no words for the way that you felt so you opened your mouth and you started to sing.”

118. “What has become of the heart of that man now that the man is king?”

119. “What has become of the heart of that man now that he has everything?”

120. “The more he has, the more he holds. The greater the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

121. “See how he labors beneath the load? Afraid to look up and afraid to let go.”

122. “He’s grown so afraid that he’ll lose what he owns, but what he doesn’t know is that what he’s defending is already gone.”

123. “Where is the treasure inside of your chest?”

124. “Where is the man with his arms outstretched to the woman he loves with nothing to lose?”

  Epic III 125. “This poor boy brought the world back into tune is what he did.”

  Promises 126. “You take me home with you! Let’s go! Let’s go right now!”

127. “It’s a long road. It’s a long walk back into the cold and dark. Are you sure you wanna go?”

128. “I have no ring for your finger.”

129. “I have no bouquet table to lay.”

130. “I have no bed of feathers.”

131. “I can’t promise you fair sky above, can’t promise you kind road below, but I’ll walk beside you, love.”

132. “Don’t need no ring for my finger, just need a steady hand to hold.”

133. “Don’t promise me fair sky above. Don’t promise me kind road below. Just walk beside me, love.”

134. “He’ll let us go. Look at him, he can’t say no.”

135. “I don’t know where this road will end, but I’ll walk it with you hand in hand.”

  Word to the Wise 136. “Damned if you don’t, damned if you do. Whole damn nation’s watching you.”

137. “Men are fools, men are frail. Give them the rope and they’ll hang themselves.”

  His Kiss, The Riot 138. “With his kiss, the riot starts.”

139. “All my children came here poor, clamoring for bed and board. Now what do they clamor for? Freedom.”

140. “Have I made myself their lord just to fall upon the sword of some paupers minor chord?”

141. “Who will lead them? Who lays all our best-laid plans?”

142. “Who makes work for idle hands?”

143. “Only one thing to be done, let them go but let there be some term to be agreed upon, some condition.”

144. “Every coward seems courageous in the safety of a crowd.”

145. “Bravery can be contagious when the band is playing loud.”

146. “Nothing makes a man so bold as a woman’s smile and a hand to hold.”

  Wait For Me (Reprise, Intro) 147. “Well, the good news is he said that you can go.”

148. “You can walk, but it won’t be like you planned.”

149. “It’s a trial. Do you trust each other? Do you trust yourselves?”

150. “If you want to walk out of hell, you’re gonna have to prove it before gods and men.”

  Wait For Me (Reprise) 151. “The dog you really got to dread is the one that howl inside your head. It’s him whose howling drives men mad and a mind to its undoing.”

152. “Show the way so we can see.”

153. “Show the way the world could be.”

154. “If you can do it, so can she. If she can do it, so can we.”

155. “How about you and I? Are we gonna try again?”

156. “Who are you to lead her? Who are you to lead them?”

157. “Who are you to think that you can hold your head up higher than your fellow man?”

158. “Between your ears, behind your eyes, that is the path to Paradise. Likewise, the road to ruin.”

  Doubt Comes In 159. “Doubt comes in. The wind is changing.”

160. “Who am I? Where do I think I’m going?”

161. “Doubt comes in.”

162. “Who am I to think that she would follow me into the cold and dark again?”

163. “Are you listening? I am right here and I will be to the end.”

164. “The coldest night of the coldest year comes right before the spring.”

165. “Who am I against him?”

166. “Why would he let me win?”

167. “Who am I to think that he wouldn’t deceive me just to make me leave alone?”

168. “Is this a trap that’s being laid for me?”

169. “Is this a trick that’s being played on me?”

170. “I used to see the way the world could be, but now the way it is is all I see.”

171. “You are not alone. I am right behind you and I have been all along.”

  Road to Hell (Reprise) 172. “It’s an old song and this is how it ends.”

173. “Here’s the thing. To know how it ends and still begin to sing it again, as if it might turn out this time, I learned that from a friend of mine.”

174. “It’s a sad song, but we keep singing even so.”

  We Raise Our Cup 175. “Pour the wine and raise a cup.”

176. “Some birds sing when the sun shines bright, our praise is not for them, but the ones who sing in the dead of night. We raise our cups to them.”

177. “Wherever he is wandering alone upon the earth, let all our singing follow him and bring him comfort.”

178. “Some flowers bloom where the green grass grows, our praise is not for them, but the ones who bloom in the bitter snow.”

179. “We raise ‘em high and drink ‘em dry.”

[queenattheopera]

Opening Number, Part 5

Prompt: This is the story of the band that skyrocketed beside Queen and how their singer was fated to be with one of them.

Warning: Cussing and implied smut

If you want to catch up with previous parts they’re linked on my Masterlist in my bio

January 1, 1971

If it weren’t for the enticing smell of food I don’t think I would’ve considered leaving my bed. Sitting up I could feel my head pounding. I grimsed and closed my eyes. I refused to move for a few seconds. I could feel the intense pounding in the back of my head, it me a few deep breaths to find some relief but i knew that wasn't going to last. So I tried to redirect my attention to recalling what happened last night.

I took some shots, danced with Fred, and then I made out with someone. I couldn't seem to remember who it was but I remember how their hands felt as they roamed my body. I remember their lips exploring just as much as their hands did. I remember the smell of alcohol in their breath and how intoxicating their scent was. I sighed and opened my eyes. The noise in the kitchen hadn't stopped but I was too nervous to see who was causing it.

Who do i want it to be?

As I pushed myself off my mattress, I was met with nothing but cold air. I pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped myself with it. As I'm tried taking the first few steps away from the bed frame I began to limp. Sore could barely describe how my legs felt. As I try to move further the blanket gets caught on something, not caring enough to find out I decide to yank it. I heard something fall but it didn't sound broken so I continued to make my way towards the mysterious figure in my home. The closer I got the more anxious I became. I could feel my heart begin to race. As it sped up more and more, it was all I could hear. I was about to turn into the kitchen when they stepped out.

I froze and forced myself to make eye contact with the them.

“...Noah?”

“I was wondering when you would get out of bed.” My stomach dropped. I don't think i slept with him, right? Not that he's not attractive, but he's my best friend. “Are you okay? You left really early last night, I mean I don't think you got any sleep going from the bags under your eyes.” I don't want to look at him because I felt beyond embarrassed but I need to know what happened last night.

“Wait so we didn't..?” He was silent for a few seconds before beginning to laugh, “Wow you must have been fucked up if you really thought that we would ever do anything.I mean no offense-” Before he could finish I punch his shoulder. “Shut up!” I feel my face growing warmer but I was relieved that he wasn’t the open who I had slept with.

“What the hell are you doing here anyway?” He walks towards the dining room but I don't make any move to follow him. “Cmon, at least take a look to see what I did.” Rolling my eyes I begin to make my way over while trying to hide the extremely obvious limp with the comforter. I'm sure he noticed after he snorted but he didn't say anything.

“Ta-da! I made you a birthday breakfast!” Seeing the table setup my eyes begin to water. He had made all my favorite foods and there were even a few gifts in the corner of my room. I looked at him and he had the biggest proudest smile plastered on his face. He was admiring his work but his smile disappeared when he saw that I began to cry.

“What happened? Did I do something wrong? I mean I know it's just me but I remember you told me not to tell anyone else and that you usually celebrate alone. I just thought you would like this.” I laughed at his rambling and wiped the tears away.

“It’s fine Noah, It's actually perfect, I just haven't really had a party or anything since my parents passed away. I- um Thank you..” His demeanor changed, and instead of getting a look of pity, he smiles and gives me a hug. “Why don't you go clean up and get dressed so we could eat and you could open your gifts okay?” I nod and go back to my room.

Walking back towards my room I see a puddle, I guess when the blanket got stuck I had knock over a glass of water resting on my nightstand. Bending down to pick up the glass I find a piece of paper under my bed.

Sorry I couldn't stay love. Let me make it up to you. I’ll pick you up tonight around 9. -hbsdcbaib I reread the paper a few times, then I just stared at the smug as I tried to decipher whose name was written.

I want to scream. I feel nothing but anger towards myself. If I hadn't spilled that water on the note than I would have known exactly who the I slept with last night. Instead my lover is faceless.

There was nothing I could do but wait. I grab some clothes and head towards the bathroom. Before I entered, I let the blanket fall than close the door. I standing in front of the mirror I take in every detail. My eyes look much worse than to what Noah had led me to believe. Then there was my neck and chest. I was covered in bite marks and hickies. When I turned to step into the bath tub I could feel some tenderness in my hips. Looking down I see bruises, resembling someone's hands. When looking at my legs, I’m met with two more hickies.

Ignoring the achiness I take a hot shower. As I'm standing there I think back to last night. I remember the passion and roughness that my counterpart used. When he had me against the wall or when his head was between my legs. He was confident with very move. He worshiped my body. Together we fit like puzzle pieces. I could feel the heat between my legs begin to intensify. I push it away and finish my shower. After I'm dressed I look into the mirror. I know Noah has seen most the marks on my neck but I still had the urge to cover them. I grabbed some makeup and covered most of them. The others were too dark to hide so I grabbed a turtle neck from my closest and changed. Satisfied with eth look I walked back toward the dining room.

“Finally, do you know how hard it was to have all this food but not to be able to eat any of it.” I laugh and sit down across from him. I don't say anything as I grab a fork and stab the food in the plate. None of it ever makes it into my mouth a dn instead just gets moved around. I could feel Noah's concerned gaze on me but neither of say anything. He comes around the table and bends down to my height.

“Did something happen? If something did you don't have to tell me, but just know that I'm here for you. And if it was one of the guys, I swear I'll kill them.” I smile and roll my eyes. “No you won't, you'll have Em do it.” He laughs but he still looks worried. I sighed, i think back to last night. “I was um, um I was almost attacked last night.” I can't bring myself to look up at him, I was embarrassed, blaming myself for what could’ve happen.

“Who?” I look at him and i'm surprised by how intense his gaze his. A few tears slip out, my anxiety and stress had finally taken hold of the wheel. “Don’t worry about it, Im fine, it was nothing. Its what happened after. Roger saved me. Then Brian and John comforted me. Then i slept with someone and I don't even know how. They left a fucking note that I ruined so now I have no idea who it was from. I’m confused and I don't know what to do and my head hurts and -” I couldn't finish my sentence because I began to cry. Well I was actually sobbing. This only increased the pain I was feeling and it made me feel weak and powerless.

Noah holds me and doesn't say anything. He pulls away when I had started to calm down. “Its okay, it's going to be okay. Let's figure this out. You should eat, I'm going to call the gang and Freddie.”

After sitting there for a minute or two began to eat. I don't have much of an appetite but I forced myself to eat and drink a glass of water. When Noah came back he cleaned up and began to hide the gifts. I silently thanked him for still considering how I felt about my birthday. Just as we had finished cleaning up there was a knock at the door. It must have been Fred because everyone else had a key.

I walked towards the order. I was happy when I noticed that i could walk normally despite the ache. When I opened the door the first thing Freddie did was gasp. “Oh you poor thing! Come here love.” Freddie pulled me into a hug. I guess the crying made my makeup run and that's why he gasped. He didn’t say anything. All he did was shush me an rub my back. It was actually really comforting. When I pulled away freddie began to fix my hair. I smiled softly before taking his hand off my hair. I led him inside. “Thanks for coming Freddie, I'm sorry if you were busy, we shouldn't have called.” I didn't want to be another and I wasn't feeling my best. Frankly I didn't have the energy to be my usually bubbly self. “Nonsense darling, I'll always be here for you.” He rubs my shoulder and gives me the biggest smile.

“Alright love, since we dont know whos coming to pick you up, let's get you dolled up.”

“Lets get her comfortable first, Y/n, we know youre probably aren't feeling up to anything right now so here's what we're gonna do. You're going to take some pain medication, take a nap then we'll get you ready okay.” Emily had let herself in and was beginning to take charge. Usually Fred and her would annoy each other but after their silent communication Freddie turned to me and smiled. “She's right love, get some rest.” I looked between the too and nodded. Once I was in my room I began to run last night over and over again. I felt stupid, I got drunk last night for a reason, now I'll have to live with the haunting my actions for the rest of my life.

“Hey y/n, Em told me to give this to you.” Charlie handed me the medicine and sat at the foot of my bed. “I know how you are. I know you're blaming yourself right now but I also know that it's not. You're okay. We're here for you.” I took the pills and nodded. “Thank you.”

In the next few hours while I slept, my house guests cleaned and prepared everything for me. They had set aside an outfit they knew I would like and they spoke about how they would help me feel better.

When I woke up my headache was alleviated and I felt more nervous than ever. I stood up to find an outfit set hanging on my closet door. I put it on and reapplied my make-up. When i walked out of my bedroom I found the gang in my living room playing scrabble.

“Y/n you're up!” I walk to them and Noah gets up and offers me his spot. He then walks away. I turn to the others looking for soe response as to what they're doing.

“It's your turn.” When i look u at them, i realize they are speaking to me. I make a calculated move. Noah comes back with some tea. They don't bring up anything from yesterday and instead play a friendly game of scrabble. Their passive actions put me at ease. I became so focused on the game I forgot about yesterday. It was what Emilly planed. They distracted me, they took my focus away from all the bad and gave me a moment of peace.

Before I knew it, t was 8:50. “Alright y/n, your dates gonna get be here but were going to be in the bedroom. They’ll be here soon. I know you're going to be nervous, but if you ever feel uncomfortable, just know we're here for you.” “Yes darling, and if any of the boys do anything, then ill kick their arses. You know I was pretty good boxer.” I smile and nod. “Thank you, I mean in.” I pull Em and Fred into hug. Charlie and Noah don't hesitate to join. I watch as they walk into the bedroom and close the door. I take deep breaths but I could feel myself getting nervous all over again. I'll admit it's not as bad as before but I was still really anxious. I was spacing in the living room while trying to relax.

I jumped when I heard a knock at the door. I was frozen and I stopped breathing for a second. When they knocked again I let out my the breath I was holding in. I moved cautiously towards the door. I unlocked the door and put my hand on the doorknob. Here goes nothing.

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