#I’ve noticed in my writings I pick a phrase and stick with it

[straight4joekeery]

Teach Me How To Love In Your Own Lyrics

(Part three)

Prev. Part one

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“Come on pick up,” Steve whispered into the phone.

“What?”

“Wow. Hello to you too.”

“Stevie! Sorry I’m just stressed. Are you coming over later? I need a hug.

“About that, I know you have a 11 o’clock flight so I’ll go to yours if afterwards if you want, but do you think you can come over to mine?”

“Uhhh, yeah. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Uh huh sure. What time can I come over?”

He glances down at his watch it read 3:30. “Um maybe in about two and a half hours. I have some errands to run.”

“Oh okay,” he sounded almost upset, “I’ll be there.”

“Oh!”

“Hm?”

“Bring the rest of the band. Okay byyeeee.” He slammed the phone down before he could get another word in, “He’s on board.”

“I assumed,” Robin said from on top the counter. While he was on the phone she had stolen a jar of peanut butter and had eaten half of it.

“Gross,” he scoffed, “anyways two hours in enough time right?” He said in a very obviously nervous tone.

“If we hurry it should be more than enough,” Vickie reassured.

“Okay then let’s go!” Steve said.

They arrived at the store in less than 5 minutes, Robin deciding to take full control, “okay party people, let’s split up.” She gave everybody their designated roles and they went on their ways. Steve was freaking out thinking they wouldn’t make it back to the house in time. They ended up being back at the car in less than an hour. “Good work team,” Robin exclaimed as they were driving again, “Ohh my god Steeevveee!” She gasped

“What?”

“For old times sake?” She said while pointing at family video.

“No Robs, we only have like a hour and a half and we still have to make some phone calls and set up. Speaking of we should have made the calls first. Great”

“Steve everything will be fine, your Prince Charming will arrive,” he decided to ignore that comment, “and everything will be straight out of the movies okay? But please Steve. You can pick the movie. We will all watch it tonight as a big, happy, and stable family. Pleeeeaassee,” she begged and nudged Vickie.

“Oh uh yeah, please Steve.” Vickie said. Robin grinned, it was honestly kind of off putting.

“Fine but let’s make it quick.” They pulled in the packing lot and hopped out of the car.

“Family Video my names Keith-,” he glanced up, “Oh god-“

“Keeiiittthhhh!” Robin walked over and gave him a little side hug, “how much I didn’t miss you!”

“Same to you Robin,” he sighed, “now what can I help you with?”

“Oh y’a know. Looking for a movie.” Then she skipped away into the comedy aisle. Steve nodded at Keith and then followed Robin. “Okay so whatcha thinking?”

“I don’t know, you pick.”

“Really? Thank you so so much!! This is a honor. Hmmm,” she walked down the row of movies with a mocking finger on her chin, “Oooh! Rocky horror!”

“We watched that yesterday.”

“Really? How about grease?” She said while raising her eyebrows

“Eddie literally hates that movie,” he said like it was obvious. It makes him kind of sad that he’s now banned from his own favorite movie.

“Fine! You pick.”

“Uh,” he glanced around, “Heathers?”

“Never seen it.”

“Me neither, but wow that girl look exactly like Joyce?”

“Ew she does.”

“Are you insulting my mother?” Ever since he moved out of his parents house, he exclusively refers to Joyce as mom.

“No it’s just weird. Anyways it’s settled! Heathers it is!”

Once they got back to Steve’s house they immediately scrambled to get ready. Vickie decorated, Steve made calls, Robin ‘supervised’. Once he finished making the final call they checked the time. 20 minutes to spare. Oh time to hope and pray everyone hurries. “Steve,” Robin rests a hand on his shoulder, “you’re panicking. It’s going to be fine,” she says as the doorbell rings, “see someone is already here.” He stands up and walks to open the door to see people he definitely didn’t invite.

“Lucas? Max?” He says while letting them in. He gave them both a hug, “what are you guys doing here?”

“we were in town… what is going on?” Lucas said while looking around.

“Well, you know how Eddie’s going on tour?” They both hummed in agreement, “we are going to through him and the band a little going away party. Do you think you guys would be able to stay?”

“Yeah, of course. Plus we haven’t seen Eddie in a while.”

“Great! I’ve really missed you guys.”

“We’ve missed you too.”

“It’s kinda sad without my favorite babysitter,” max nudged Steve’s arm.

“Don’t make his ego bigger then it needs to be!” Robin called out from the door. As they were talking about 10 of the 30 people that they invited walked through the doors. He let out a huge sigh of relief. He walked towards the guests and thanked them all for showing up.

As it hit 6 he told everyone to “get ready but also take your time because Eddie is almost always ‘fashionably’ late”. They decided against the whole turning off the lights and hiding thing. Plus Steve’s sure Eddie knows what’s going on. He hears the doorbell ring and everyone immediately goes silent he has everyone in a position so when he opens the door they won’t get caught too quick. He walks to the door and slowly opens it. “Hey guys!” He exclaims trying to hide his fear. The band all says they’re version of hi’s and steps in.

Everyone perfectly chorus’s a loud “surprise”. And to Steve’s amazement they all actually looked surprised. Eddie turned around to face Steve.

“Stevie, you did all this… for me? For us?” He says while gesturing in the vague direction of the band.

“Of course I did. You guys deserve it.” He says but was cut off by Eddie giving him the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. He smiles to himself and hugs him back.

“Thank you Steve.”

“You’re welcome.” They break the hug and Eddie goes to see and thank everyone who came he watched his face light up when he notices Lucas and Max. He doesn’t even notice Gareth is right next to him. “Hey.”

“Thank you. It honestly means a lot. This is awesome. I’m sorry if I ever acted like I hated you. I mean… I kinda did but that’s not the point. You’re a really good dude Steve.”

“Thank you,” you could tell he genuinely meant it, “and I mean you guys are going on tour for 3 whole months. You deserve a crappy party at least.”

“Trust me this party is not crappy,” he smiled (which trust him is weird for Gareth) while walking back to the rest of the party. And he was actually right.

“Well,” Robin smiled, “the party was a hit.”

“It really was,” Eddie chimed in, “thank you again guys.”

“Yes yes we’re so cool and nice, now let’s start the movie,” Robin said while grabbing their arms and skipping to the couch. They all sat down Eddie, Steve, Robin, and Vickie on the couch and the band on the floor in-front of them. Steve had never noticed how small his couch was. Throughout the whole movie all he could think about was how Eddie was practically on top of him. And Eddie could tell something was up.

“You okay? You’re very,” he waves his hand at him, “tense.”

Steve laughs to play it off, “yeah I’m fine.” After this comment he tries to relax a bit. So much so that he allows him self to slowly slide his arm off of the back of the couch and onto Eddie’s shoulder. He swears he sees Eddie blush but it’s a little dark and he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. He thinks to himself how weird this is. Why is he so nervous it’s not like he likes Eddie. That’s his best friend. Right?

The movie ended soon and it was surprisingly good. Eddie loved it saying that’s it was his new favorite (go Steve!). Every one agreed on two things from the movie.

1. Christian Slater is a capital H Hot man. (even Robin agreed.)

2. And again wow Veronica really looks like Joyce.

The band left thanking them over and over again. The 4 of them remaining cleaned a little and then all decided it’s really late and they should get going. They said their goodbyes. Once Steve arrived at Eddie’s he hugged him again this time impossibly tighter and for a lot longer. “Thank you again Stevie.”

“You are so so very welcome,” Steve sighed, “3 months. Wow.”

“I know,” they pulled away both of them were about to cry but neither of them brought it up, “try not to miss me too much.

“Impossible,” they hugged one last time and went to bed before either of them actually cried.

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Next

Wow. Part 3. I actually am starting to really like how this is turning out. I really think you guys will LOVE the next two parts. End of part 4-beginning of part 5 is kinda sad ngl. You’re in for a treat 😉. As always, comment or reblog if you want to be added to the tag list. I love all of the support I am getting. It truly means a lot you guys are the best 💚. I hope you enjoyed and thank you so so much for reading!

ALSO the current part count is 9! But I’ll probably push it to be 10 because it’s prettier. Sorry if 5 is a little short btw. I have a bad habit of trying to write a piece of one part and then it kind of just spills. Idk why but I don’t really like to make them super long.

Tag list!: @asbealthgn @queerbeansworld @bird-with-pencils @vecnuthy @artiststarme @swagaliciousmarie @piningapple @steve-themom-harrington @lfaewrites @azreadytodie @thequeenrainacorn @pastel-dreamscape @jehneeg (sorry it wouldn’t let me tag you in part 1!) @mightbeasleep (also sorry to the people it wouldn’t let me tag :( )

[humbledragon669]

S2E1 - The Arrival Write Up P6 - the Present Day from Crowley’s entry to the book shop to his departure from it

Alright, let’s get stuck in – we have an ineffable divorce (of sorts) coming up in this section. Before we get to that though, let’s drop in on our new characters. There are a couple of things I would note about this scene in the coffee shop, and the first is about the soundtrack (shock horror, I know). It’s pretty tricky to say for sure, but it sounds like there’s a lack of background music playing as Maggie enters the café. That changes following Nina’s comment about her “charming personality” – you can just about hear a string arrangement in the background at this point. I’ve tried really hard to identify the song but failed miserably - it’s just not prominent enough, and I can’t hear a long enough phrase to get a grasp on it. I’m pretty grumpy about that if I’m honest, because it means I can’t even say for sure whether it’s just coincidence that the music appears to start playing only after Maggie enters the shop or not (after all, perhaps this is just a CD that happened to be between tracks as she comes through the door). If it’s not coincidental, that would give us another parallel between these two characters and our hero couple, particularly with the music in the previous coffee shop scene being so poignant. As it is, I’m just going to have to leave that as an open-ended question until/unless somebody has better hearing/sound editing skills that I do, and can actually identify the track.

Talking of potential parallels, I find it quite interesting to see the way that neither Nina or Maggie seem to be able to pick up on the cues that the other one gives them. Nina in particular really sucks at picking up the subtext that Maggie is virtually screaming at her, but it is a two-way street. And where else do we see this? Crowley and Aziraphale of course – their inability to “get the hint” from each other is something we’ve seen all throughout both the chronological and release timelines. We’ll see quite a few more parallels between the two couples as season 2 progresses, but I think this is one of the more subtle ones.

The last thing I wanted to say about this scene is going to be a bit more Nina-bashing I’m afraid. Let’s be clear – Maggie has brought this woman an incredibly thoughtful gift. How is that thoughtfulness rewarded? With a look that could sour milk.

And if the look wasn’t enough, the disdainful tone would be enough to finish the job. Honestly, is a simple “thank you” that hard? She makes Maggie feel so bad that she apologises to Nina for bringing her a gift! That one must really have stung. I don’t know if there’s maybe some sort of coded subtext here about consent; if that’s the case, the connotations and irony behind it make my head spin a bit so I think I’ll just stick with my original evaluation that Nina isn’t really that likeable (don’t worry, I will change my mind a bit later!).

Alright, time to get into the weeds! There are two things I noticed about the setting up of the scene in the bookshop, neatly summed up in the following shot:

So first off, we see Crowley removing his glasses as soon as he enters the shop, which speaks volumes about how comfortable he is in this setting. And not only does he remove them, but the way that he places them on the statue would suggest that this is something he does A LOT. I don’t think it’s been confirmed (more that it’s one of those things the fandom takes as cannon), but I like the thinking that the horse statue has been deliberately left or placed there as a convenient stand for Crowley to leave his glasses. It feels right – the demon doesn’t stop to look around for somewhere to put them, it’s almost reflex. And ultimately he doesn’t actually need to “place” them anywhere; he could have put them in his pocket, and just discarded them on one of the surfaces. Nah, the way he deals with his glasses here feels almost like muscle memory.

The second thing about this shot is to do with those damn Eccles cakes. Remember in the last part of the write up I waffled on about how I think Aziraphale orders those sweet treats not for himself but to give to Crowley as a peace offering? Well, here’s another piece of evidence to add to that theory, because he’s placed the plate of cakes (untouched I might add) in front of the statue where he then homes his glasses. And why do I think this is important? Because if he was just holding on to them for Aziraphale while the angel fumbled with his keys, he would probably have tried to give them back to him, or at least put them somewhere in the bookshop that was more Aziraphale’s than his, and this table is clearly “his” because that’s where his little horsey sunglasses stand lives. If that seems to be a bit flimsy as far as evidence goes, I’m not done yet – we’ll be back in a little while.

This next gif has been discussed by a ridiculous number of people, so I’m not going to dwell on it too much, but it would be remiss of me not to remark on it at all so here goes.

MARRIED. THIS PAIR ARE MARRIED. “Do we know a Jim”, honestly. I rest my case your honour (I don’t, there’s plenty more to talk about in this season that lends weight to the theory that Crowley and Aziraphale are already romantically involved at this point, and have been for quite some time).

Side note: how adorable is Aziraphale’s face as he prepares for impact:

Doesn’t it just make you want to go and squeeze his little cheeks and ruffle his hair? No? Just me? Probably not to be fair.

The exchange that follows is the first time in this season that I did a proper belly laugh when I first watched it (and it still makes me laugh to this day). The comic delivery here is so skilful, it’s just an absolute delight to watch. Can’t forget that soundtrack though, it’s beautifully pieced together, and adds so much to the scene. Also the camera work. And the lighting (with the shafts of light that fall through the window onto the horse statue, highlighting the fact that Crowley must be feeling incredibly exposed at this point). Just all of it really. So now that I’ve waxed lyrical about it as a whole, I have a few little things to say about some of the individual elements.

I made some comments about Aziraphale’s reaction to Gabriel showing up on his doorstep which brokered some discussion (which I was very pleased about – please don’t stop!) because the general consensus seems to be that Aziraphale is frightened of his former boss during that scene, and I don’t particularly get that vibe. I do here with Crowley. I mean, it’s pretty impossible not to, isn’t it? Crowley is absolutely terrified. And I think what’s worth bearing in mind that he has every right to be – after all, he’s the one with the memories from Heaven (this will be explicitly stated later in the season, but perhaps it’s something that is easy to forget at this point). He knows exactly how cold and ruthless that archangel can be. And maybe this is nothing, just the result of momentum as Crowley tries to put as much distance between himself and Gabriel/Jim as possible, but does this single frame look like he throws his arm up to protect Aziraphale?

I wrote that as if I was asking a question to which I wasn’t 100% sure of the answer already. Of course he’s trying to protect Aziraphale – see previous point about him knowing Gabriel’s true nature. There’s also this little gem:

Check out Crowley’s left shoulder (his left, not yours). If this is deliberate, it’s a stroke of absolute genius. It’s the tip of the wing from the cherub statue on the table behind him. It almost looks like it’s growing out from Crowley’s shoulder to shield Aziraphale. I don’t even feel like this is a stretch, it feels perfect (and I am more than a little bit pleased that I picked up on it). There’s really no need to worry though – the figure before him is anything but threatening. It took me a minute to realise why this shot of Jim/Gabriel looked familiar, and then it hit me:

We won’t talk about what happens in the film after Puss drops the “cute eyes” act.

There is something going on in this scene that I feel I have missed up to this point, and the only reason the penny has dropped now is because of this expression on Aziraphale’s face:

There’s something almost pleading about it. Like he doesn’t want to do what’s being asked of him and is trying to get somebody else to do it for him. Or more accurately, like he’s asking someone to rescue him. *huge clanging noise of a penny dropping* I can’t believe I haven’t thought about this scene in these terms before. The pair of them all but spell it out for us in the coffee shop when Crowley asks Aziraphale if the situation in the book shop is something he can “help” with (i.e. something he can rescue the angel from), garnering a desperate but silent nod from the angel. Here’s the funny thing about that dynamic now though – at this point Crowley knows he’s cornered.

He can’t very well walk out now, can he? He offered to help, something which he’s been doing for centuries without ever asking, or needing to be asked. How could he possibly abandon the rescue mission that he has actually signed up for already? And how else could he have expressed his intense annoyance at being tricked into this with anything other than with a growl? Maybe that’s what Aziraphale was angling for the whole time – personally I would be getting into trouble all the time if it meant being growled at by Crowley…

Easter egg time! At least I think it’s an Easter egg:

Jim’s yellow feather duster is a pretty close match to the one Freddie Mercury uses in the video for “I Want to Break Free”, which has some very fitting lyrics for Gabriel’s situation. What a fabulous Queen parallel to sneak in for the eagle-eyed! I will confess that I didn’t spot this one on my own - @noneother wrote a lovely post about it here.

Let’s just take a quick look at Aziraphale’s apparent thought process at this point:

That looks like a pretty confused angel to me. As in, he’s really not sure why Crowley has reacted in such an extreme manner to Gabriel’s appearance. And going back to what I said earlier about the memories that Crowley has of his last interactions with the archangel, that would make sense, particularly if he has never shared those memories with Aziraphale. If that’s the case, it might go some way to explain why he can’t understand Crowley’s emotional state, or his staunch refusal to do anything other than disassociate themselves with Gabriel completely. What it also shows though is that Aziraphale has already made up his mind that the right thing to do is help Gabriel, which will become all the more apparent in the upcoming scene. What also becomes apparent is that if he was afraid of Gabriel when his arrived on his doorstep, that is very much not the case anymore. He does appear to give some quarter to Crowley when the demon manages to communicate exactly why it is that he feels so strongly though; you can see it in the little head movement and on his face:

Quick observation here, and again this might be nothing, but doesn’t the shape of that the dressing screen behind Aziraphale look familiar?

They look a bit like wings, don’t they? I only caught this whilst I was writing this, and it could be a coincidence (I doubt it), but let’s just say that it isn’t for a minute – what would that say about Aziraphale’s frame of mind here? That at this point in time he feels very close to his angelic origins? It would explain his somewhat blind desire to help Gabriel – helping someone in need is technically the “right” thing to do after all. Coincidence or not, there’s something else of interest in Crowley’s impassioned speech:

CROWLEY: This is the Supreme Archangel of all Heaven, your former boss, who tried very hard to cast you into Hellfire and destroy you. He is not our friend.

Everything that Crowley identifies as part of Gabriel’s character relates to Aziraphale (former workplace, former boss, former offences against the angel) but all of those things inherently mean that Gabriel cannot possibly be a candidate to be their friend. Not Aziraphale’s friend. Their friend. This is protective Crowley in all his glory. But it got me thinking to about the use of the collection pronouns in this scene in general – I’ve summarised below to make it a bit easier to understand.

So firstly, Crowley uses those collective pronouns much more freely and readily than Aziraphale does. That is partly because he actually says a lot more than the angel in general in this scene, but personally I also think it speaks largely to his primary motive here, and that is the preservation of life as he knows it, which largely centres around Aziraphale. On the other hand, the angel’s primary motive in this scene appears to be a desire to do the “right” thing, never mind the cost, clearly wanting to employ that forgiveness he claims to be so good at. His use of the collective pronouns is reserved for the more manipulative aspects of his emotional scale – pleading and indignation.

I think it’s interesting that we see Crowley consciously switch to the use of singular pronouns after Aziraphale tries to get him on side by telling him about Gabriel’s needs. A lot of people would see this as being somewhat spiteful, a way to get what he wants, but I think it’s more than that – he’s trying to tell Aziraphale that his needs aren’t being met, and that he’s angry that the needs of another being are being considered so intricately. Let’s put that a bit more succinctly – Aziraphale is choosing to put another being’s needs before Crowley’s. And that particular being has a history of being nothing less than vile to both of them, especially Aziraphale. In true Aziracrow style though the angel misses his cue, only hearing the bit in the sentence where his involvement in Crowley’s life is seemingly dismissed so easily. It’s really not dismissed that simply though – look at how difficult Crowley finds it to say just how much his current situation means to him:

See the little shuddering breath he takes before he says “peaceful”? Or maybe the stuttering hand movement that goes with it? It makes me wonder if there was another word he really wanted to say here but had to stop himself from saying it, forcing himself to choose another one. And then there’s the use of the word “here” at the end of the sentence. Does he mean Earth? London? Personally I think it’s a little more localised than that – I think “here” means Aziraphale’s bookshop. I don’t think I’m the only one that thinks that either – look at the disbelief on the angel’s face as he tries to claim their collective efforts back:

And from here, it really starts to descend into madness. Honestly, I think it’s Crowley that actually starts it – his response to Aziraphale trying to claw back their togetherness is to subtextually accuse the angel of actually working against him. Well done, Crowley, you really flipped Aziraphale’s switch there, and he’s wearing the face to prove it.

Look at that jaw: this angel has made his decision people – if the demon wants to be that spiteful, he can do it somewhere else. But he doesn’t just tell Crowley to leave, does he? He accuses him of failing to fulfil his role as the rescuer, the protector.

And he doesn’t just accuse him of failing, he intimates that it’s something Crowley is actively choosing to do. You can see Aziraphale knows how badly (and probably how hurtful) his words are in two places – the first is right before he says them:

The other is in the middle of the sentence where he tells Crowley to leave – he takes a shuddering breath of his own that you can hear more than see. Honestly, I find it a little heartbreaking. Not as heartbreaking as the look on Crowley’s face after Aziraphale has uttered his ultimatum though.

Oof, that expression hits me hard. There’s so much here that isn’t being said. The slight recoil after Aziraphale finishes speaking, the half gulp he takes before he speaks, the hand gesture- THE HAND GESTURE PEOPLE. The one that indicates there is an “us” involved in this conversation.

And let’s not forget the line.

CROWLEY: Oh really. This is just- this is how you wanna do it?

That feels like such a death-toll of a line to me. The subtext feels like he’s asking Aziraphale if this is how he wants the relationship to flounder. Thank Somebody that Aziraphale doesn’t leave him hanging for an answer, because I think this that would break me, and thank Somebody else that when he does reply, his true feelings are painfully apparent.

And it’s not just his face leaking emotions here – let’s look at his instinctive choice of words:

AZIRAPHALE: I would love you to help me.

Not “I would lovefor you to help me”, not “I’m asking you to help me”, or “I’d like you to help me”. Not even a stubborn “I want you to help me”. No, he says “I would love you to help me”. He’s said too much. Crowley’s expression tells him as much.

For once it seems like he gets the message too, because he changes his phrasing:

AZIRAPHALE: I am asking you to help me take care of him.

Because you never know who could be watching or listening do you? After all, Gabriel could be right outside the door listening in. I feel like Crowley is on the verge of caving here, desperate though he is for the angel to hear his frightened pleas, but he’s not given enough time. Why doesn’t Aziraphale know by now that if you push this demon too hard and too fast, he’s going to run? There’s even a noise in the soundtrack here that sounds like a snake hissing – I don’t know if that was the intention, but it definitely gives me the sense that this is Crowley reverting to his expected demonic traits.

Right, final time I’m going to talk about this, I promise – we’re going back to the Eccles cakes.

There they are, front and centre of the shot as Crowley leaves the bookshop. They are in fact the only things totally in focus in that shot. We’ll see Crowley make a conscious effort to retrieve his glasses from the horse statue, but the Eccles cakes will stay there, abandoned and untouched. This was actually the shot that made my mind up about these – Aziraphale got them for Crowley. He was supposed to eat them and be all calm about the matter. But of course he didn’t – he probably thought he was going to get to watch his angel eating them later that day as a reward for his playing the knight in shining armour. I’m kind of glad he didn’t eat them to be honest, otherwise we might never have gotten to see the Apology Dance…

That feels like a good place to stop for this part. It has taken me way too long to get through this small section, but I have to say I was kind of expecting it – there’s always so much to say about the angsty scenes in this show, and what with this being the first episode of the second season, it was also going to have a bunch of narrative set-up to talk about too. It’s interesting that I’ve already written more words for this episode than the most words I wrote for any single episode in season one, and I’m only about two thirds of the way through. My methods are either getting more refined or I’m waffling far too much – please do tell me if you think it’s the latter, because I’m really enjoying this journey with you all and I don’t want you to be bored!

So with that, and as always, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome. See you for the next one!

[jittyjames]

for the fanfic writer asks!!

3, 11, 13, 19, 20, 24, 33, 39 (bc your fics drive me insane and i need more of your incredible works), 42, 45, 69 and 74!!!

sorry that i put loads, just choose whatever ones you want to answer out of the ones i’ve asked <3

YOU KNOW I'M GOING TO ANSWER THEM ALL BESTIE

3- ok so my process is basically non-existent, but i'll walk you through it anyway. so i'll have an idea for a scene literally at any point. sometimes it can be a single sentence or sometimes it can be a vague concept, but i always write it down. if i have my phone it's almost always going in my notes app. from there, i just kind of expand on the idea as it develops when i get back to my laptop. i tend to write the exciting and important scenes first in a very rough fashion, and then go back to fill in the blanks. then i go back and polish by combing over it for grammar mistakes and adding a few more details. that's pretty much it!

11- OOO! i'll do three for hamilton and three for jcs to appease both sides

FAV HAMILTON FICS AT THE MOMENT ARE a more perfect union by holograms (thanks to crys for introducing me to THIS), the monticello furlough by michelle_a_emerlind, and death of a nation by cyanspica

THEN HONORABLE MENTIONS!! LITERALLY ANYTHING BY YOU, CECE, AND XEN. I EAT THOSE UP EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME.

FAV JCS FICS AT THE MOMENT ARE obviously the incomparable ruined ambition series by @solarflicker (which i literally trip over myself to go read every time i get the email that it's been updated), picking up the palm fronds by onetrueobligation, and the cup that can't be filled by @ohsoldier (literally the good omens/jcs crossover of my dreams)

SO MANY MORE TOO!! BOTH FANDOMS ARE FILLED WITH SO MANY TALENTED PEOPLE! GO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS PEOPLE. FANFIC WRITERS AND FANARTISTS ARE THE ONES WHO KEEP FANDOM ALIVE.

13- "write for yourself, your dick, and your six closest friends." SHARED BY @fireballdance

19- my most used rating tag is mature, my most tagged ship is hamilton/laurens, my most tagged character is hamilton (obv lol), and my most used additional tag is hurt/comfort

20- i use a lot of rain imagery i think. actually i use a lot of weather imagery bc i'm annoyinggg. and then ofc i use aspects of my trauma in most of my fics (even ones you wouldn't suspect) but no one really would pick up on that since y'all don't know, but themes of abuse are certainly littered through out. obviously biblical imagery, too. i can't think of any phrases, SO IF YOU KNOW OF SOME THAT YOU NOTICED I'VE USED A LOT LEMME KNOW.

24- the worst advice i've ever gotten is if you're stuck, delete everything and start over. absolutely not. you can start over, but i wouldn't ever delete anything. even if i don't use lines in one fic, i can always recycle and put it somewhere else. NEVER DELETE. YOU'LL REGRET IT. TAKE MY WORD FOR IT.

33- YES I WANT TO BE PUBLISHED. i have so many original novel ideas and i want to write southern gothic literature so badly. i doubt it will ever happen but that's the dream. i would also really like to write my own plays :))) but for now, i'm sticking to universes and characters i'm already familiar with

39- OOOO I HAVE SO MANY WIPS BC OF WHUMPTOBER (currently have a little bit over 30k words written 👀👀 and that's not even counting the kink stuff BUT I'M NOT GOING INTO THAT WITH YOU BC YOU ARE A MINOR) BUT LEMME PICK ONE I THINK YOU'LL LIKE

Philip’s forehead burned under his hand.  Alexander felt something in his chest and stomach plummet to what seemed like hell. He remembered the feeling of this. He remembered how hot his mother’s flesh had seared as she shivered against him, her arms wrapped tight and secure as she hummed shakily to him. He remembered how she soothed her hand over his hair as she whispered te quiero over and over.   He remembered her going still and cold. 

42- THE LAST FIC I READ WAS calm you and anoint you (envy) by a_trick_or_two_with_lepers AND ABSOLUTELY. I LOVE IT. GO READ IT RIGHT NOW.

45- I OBVIOUSLY WANT TO BREAK MY READERS' HEARTS. IT IS MY LIFE'S MISSION. I NEED Y'ALL ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATED WHEN YOU'RE FINISHED WITH MY FICS

69- hmmm i'm always embarrassed when i post smut but i'm not really embarrassed that it exists. and the fics i were embarrassed about have long been deleted from the internet SO NOT REALLY ANY OF THEM I GUESS

74- if it's a fic posted in an obscure musical fandom about trauma and has my long-winded ass writing style, it's probably me :)

THANKS FOR THE ASK I HAD A LOT OF FUN ANSWERING THEMMM. ILYYY MWAH 💙

[proserpina-magnus]

yayy you take requests 🥺 I really love your writing it’s one of the best I’ve come across on the internet I swear

was wondering if I can request a poly!marauder where reader is really snappy/irritated before her period and the boys don’t realize why she acts like that cause she’s usually really kind and loving. she may sometimes not even realize she’s being mean/scary?

she could then out of sudden break down crying over something very stupid - maybe because something or someone really annoyed her

and the boys are literally clueless

Hii! I’m so sorry this took so long 😭😭 this has been in my request for awhile but luckily I finished it today! I hope you don’t mind the delay, anyways I hope you enjoy it! Mwah.

P.S: I also included Peter! I hope you don’t mind (since you didn’t specify).

P.S.S: this is also really bad :)

Irritation (poly Marauders)

Reader: female (she/her)

Warning: irritation (described and displayed), swearing, fighting (mention of blood like once), intrusive thoughts, anxiety (displayed in characters, such as biting nails, words, etc), “baby, love, dove,”, mention of sex (not described though), talk of losing appetite and eating, hurt/comfort, comment to add more.

Word count: 3.6k

You woke up irritated, body aching slightly and adjusting to your upcoming period. You pick at your food, tapping your foot angrily as you listen to every chat. A good 1000 students talking was enough to give you a headache... or at least add onto the one you already had. The littlest sounds, like a fork scraping against the plate, sent you into a fit of rage and you snapped at Remus.

"We get it, the book’s good," you say, staring deep into your plate. Remus let his mouth hang open, mid sentence before closing it. The boys gave you a look, James trying to quickly figure out what the problem was. “…uh, something bothering you? No need to snap at Remus,”

“No need to snap at Remus,” you mocked, James eyebrows scrunched as he made a confused expression. Peter, who sat beside you, had his eyes slanted as he tried to figure out what your issue had been. “James wasn’t trying to-“ Peter had started, But you quickly cut him off.

“Peter, why don’t you just mind your business?” You question, you never had been mean to Peter, not as much as you joked around with the others. This banter confused Peter, and he looked away and bit the inside of his cheek.

“Hey now, don’t get bitchy,” Sirius tuned in, James had sucked in a breath as Sirius uttered the phrase. The boys stayed quiet, even Sirius knew he had said something wrong. You dropped your fork to the plate, it clanked loudly. You stood up, grabbed your bag roughly as the chair scraped against the floor from your quick movement.

“_____, love,” Peter began, trying to clear the miscommunication up with what Sirius had said. You waved him off, eyes glaring around at each of them. Remus had begun to shift awkwardly, not liking the tension, while Sirius had tried to stutter out that he didn’t mean it. James was a bit flushed, hating the anger that was now appearing. Peter had lost his appetite.

You pondered what to say, mouth slightly opened to spew out some insult but you felt ridiculous and teared up slightly. The boys just looked at you, not knowing what to say and somehow that made the situation worse.

“Why don’t you just fuck off,” you rushed out, not really knowing who that was directed towards. Before any of them could get a word in, you had walked quickly out of the dining hall.

“Why’d you say that?” Peter was the first to ask, Sirius feeling attacked over his words. “Well she was being bitchy, Peter you need to stop being such a coward and stick up for us once in awhile,”

“Pads,” James called, Peter rolling his eyes. Sirius snapped his head around, looking at each of them. “Well I’m right! She was making Moony feel bad,”

“She wasn’t making me feel bad,” Remus sighed, and Sirius shook his head and began to get a bit angry. “Yes she was, she had no right to start acting the way,”

“I don’t think we need to focus on what she said, we need to know why she acted that way,” James said, rubbing a hand over his chest. “Did she fail a test or something? Did she mention anything that was bothering her?” He pondered to them.

Everyone shook their heads, they all were confused on why you had acted that way. They had completely forgotten about your period. You never acted so vile on your period, you usually just acted the same. Yet they forgot to realise that not every period was going to be the same and emotions were heightened.

“Maybe Snape said something,” Peter thought, and Remus nodded his head. “True, I did hear that they got partnered for a project in herbology,” Remus said, and all of the boys sorta grumbled at the thought of you working with Snape.

“Yeah if I was partnered with him I’d be bitchy,” Sirius said, nodding his head like he understood now. James hit Sirius on the back hard, and Sirius shot him a look. “Stop referring to her as a bitch,” James said, upset. He never liked the degrading words used against you, there were much better words to phrase your reaction.

“Alright alright,” Sirius said in surrender, feeling guilty now for upsetting you further. Remus stayed quiet, he wasn’t upset about you snapping at him, he was upset at the fact that you felt the need to snap at him.

Peter felt wiry, he didn’t like when you were upset. He always felt like he was to blame, especially since you were always so loving. He decided to go check on you, not liking the tears he had seen in your eyes.

“Where are you going?” Remus asked, he knew exactly what Peter was intending to do but he just wanted confirmation. Sirius and James were deep in conversation, planning on pranking Snape to make you feel better (they had confirmed the issue was Snape, before even asking you what was truly wrong).

“I’m gonna go check on her,” Peter said, cleaning his plate as much as he could as he stacked the dirty dishes together. “I’ll come with,” Remus said, sitting up and Peter took Remus's plate and stacked it with his. “We’re going to go check on her,”

Sirius piped up, standing up before Remus sat him back down with a hand to his shoulder. “Not you, not yet,” Remus told him, and Sirius pouted.

Remus and Peter walked out of the dining hall, and Sirius and James conversed about the prank.

“I don’t think it’s Snape,” Peter said, and Remus nodded. “No, me neither,”

“I just can't figure out what it could be,'' Peter sighed, looking down halls and out windows to see if he could spot you. Remus nodded, sighing as well.

They stayed quiet for a bit, Peter more hyper fixed on finding you (Remus felt the same, but was much better at hiding his worry). Peter stopped, looking over at Remus. “You know she didn’t mean it,” Peter told him and Remus nodded.

“I know, I’m not mad at her,” Remus spoke, and Peter nodded like Remus had. “And you know she didn’t mean to snap at you, it’s not your fault she’s irritated,” Remus said, knowing Peter's thoughts.

Peter nodded, though half doubted it as they continued on their look for you.

—

Peter and Remus hadn’t found you, they had arrived late to transfiguration, Professor McGonagall gave them an eye and told them to sit.

“Where is she?” Sirius asked, James listening in as he leaned closer to where Remus and Peter sat in front of them. Next to James, was an empty seat. Sirius sat opposite of the empty seat.

“Couldn’t find her,” Remus said, James grew worried.

“We will look at the map later,” he said, reassuring the group but it was more for reassuring himself. They all nodded, trying to focus on class, yet they kept wondering about the thought of you.

“No I’m worried,” Sirius said after a while, Remus looked behind them as Peter bit at his nails. “Pads it’s alright; she’s fine,” James stated, but Sirius doubted him.

“You don’t know that, what if what I said made her upset!” He whispered, and Remus turned back around and let James handle Sirius.

“She’s not like that, she was clearly irritated before you talked with her, she’s probably just having a bad day,” James tried to make up any safe possible scenario, he didn’t want to think about dreadful things.

“But-“ Sirius said, and Peter whipped around. “Just shut up Sirius, alright? We will find her after class,” he grew irritated and Sirius grumbled and stayed quiet.

—

They had found you quickly with the help of their invention, but you had put up a wall and just shrugged them off.

“Baby, listen if it’s about what I said this morning,” Sirius began, but you continued to look down at your open book. The library was quiet before, and students listened in to hear the drama of the group.

“Can you just go away? I can't read when you’re talking to me,” you said, mouth in a frown. Remus was the first to realize you really did just want space and he decided it was best to let you get over your irritation, but convincing the rest of the boys was the hardest part.

“She just wants to read guys, come on,” Remus said, grabbing Sirius arm to pull him away from hovering over you (which Peter had noticed was pissing you off). James stayed in place, so did Peter.

“She can’t skip class Remus,” James said seriously, looking down at you as you continued to stare at your book, not sparing a glance at them.

“_____,” James warned, reaching out to hold your shoulder gently and you twitched and removed his hand from your shoulder. “You can't skip class love,”

“Fuck off, you never give Peter or Sirius any shit for skipping,” you scoffed, and James began to get a bit irritated with your rude behaviour.

“Yes I do-“ James was quick to defend himself, and you rolled your eyes.

“Can you seriously fuck off? Like what do you not get about me wanting to be alone? That doesn’t mean I want you around,” you snapped at him, turning around and glaring. “All of you need to fuck off,”

They stayed quiet, looking at you again such as how they did this morning. James stepped back, “alright,” he said, walking out of the library as Sirius followed behind with a grumble.

“We will see you at lunch?” Remus asked and you just ignored him. He decided to follow behind Sirius and James.

Peter stayed, weight going between each foot as he swayed back and forth. You looked over at him, an eyebrow raised as you waited for him to leave, he didn’t.

“I want you to leave,” you said, staring at him like he was incompetent. Peter shrunk slightly against your harsh gaze. “I know what you want,” Peter said, “but don’t you care what I want? What we want?”

“I don’t owe you sex,” you scoffed, misinterpreting what he meant. Peter shook his head, “No, you don’t. that’s not what I meant,”

“What could you possibly mean then?” You asked, huffing. Peter sat down beside you and you slid your chair away. Didn't you get that they were worried?

“What’s wrong,” he asked, “how can I make it better?” He felt completely hopeless. You just shrugged, the wall you had blocked them with slowly falling a bit. But then you remembered that they didn’t even know why you were upset, how could they even forget you had a period? The fury built back up again, all they cared about was themselves. It was always Remus's monthly, never yours.

“You can make it better by fucking going away,” you swore, and Peter did just that.

—

Two days went by, without much effort to talk to the boys. They all tried their hardest to catch your attention and make you feel better, yet their proposals were quickly dismissed.

James had got you many gifts, him and Sirius even snuck into Hogsmeade to get you sweets from honey dukes. You took the sweets, but dismissed them entirely.

Remus tried to talk to you about the books you had been reading, but you told him you weren’t interested in talking with him and left.

Sirius got frustrated pretty easily with not being able to hold hands with you and locked you in the broom closet with him. James had found him an hour later, knocked out.

Peter followed you around, you found many flowers left in your dorm. You had received about 10 letters from him, each every morning, before your first class, during lunch, at dinner, and before you went to bed. You had read them, cuddling with your blankets.

On the third day, you wanted attention and affection. Cramps had made you emotional, you just wanted some attention from your boys. But when you had sat by them at the table, hand going to hold Sirius’s, he had pulled it away from you. You frowned, trying again but he pulled it away. You knew something was wrong, even this morning you haven't received a good morning letter from Peter.

“So what, you think you can just come hang out with us and think nothings wrong?” James asked you, they had all grown irritated with your behaviour. You yourself hadn’t really noticed the way you had been treating them.

“What do you mean?” You asked confused, looking between each of them as they laughed. You felt hurt, knowing they were making fun of you. You tried to hold Peter's hand but he was too quick and pulled it away before you could even touch him.

“You wanted to be left alone,” he reminded you. Remus nodded his head, “you even ignored all of our gifts,” James said, and Sirius laughed and made a joke.

“I didn’t want gifts,” you told them, “when have I ever asked for gifts?” You continued, and they became quiet. Had you been rude to them?

You began to think over the last few days, some things you had done were questionable but it was justified. Couldn’t they see you were emotional?

Did they even care? Of course with these thoughts, your brain forgot to realize all the attempts they made, all the worrying they felt, all the times they talked in private and grew concerned for your well-being.

“You kept snapping at us, you can’t just be rude to us for no reason and then expect us to be okay with it, you don’t get cuddles _____,” James told you firmly, but you tilted your head, you began to get angry again.

“So when I don’t ask for something you give it to me, but when I want to hold your fucking hand that's not allowed? Do you even care what I want?” You asked, you realised how unreasonable some of what you were saying was. You had remembered what Peter had said in the library and you grew quiet.

“Nevermind,” you snapped quickly just as they were about to argue with you. You got up, saddened that you couldn’t get the affection you wanted. You left, heading to herbology.

—

The first class, along with the banter from this morning, ruined your whole day. You had to work with Snape, already in a bad mood.

He had been pretty quiet, so had you, only talking to each other about the project and what was necessary. It was all going fine until the end of the class, when he had said something that made you feel terrible.

“You and the Marauders hadn’t been hanging out recently, I guess they came to their senses that you weren’t really worth it,” he began, who knew why he had said it, but it was enough to trigger some deeper emotional rage. You screamed at him in the hallway, completely losing it at him. At some point, both your wands had been drawn and just before something bloody happened, the professor had stopped it. You had been given detention and since you had been the one that had started the duel, Snape got off scot free.

The Marauders had heard about what happened and what made it worse is that they didn’t try to find you. You passed by James and Sirius in the hall, hoping to talk to them and get all of the anger out about what Snape had said. But they just said a simple “we don’t really want to talk to you right now,”

You watched them walk down the hall, they hadn’t wanted to know if you were okay? They were always curious about any drama revolving around Snape.

You had cried in the bathroom, moaning myrtle was the only one who cared enough to ask you what was wrong. You felt pathetic relying your emotions on a ghost that lives in the bathroom, but it was somehow comforting listening to her weep along with you.

Maybe Snape was right, maybe they did come to their senses.

—

After detention, you passed by the Gryffindor portrait. You had debated for several minutes if you wanted to go see them and finally the fat lady decided to just let you in and told you a “Stop weeping outside my door, I have a date soon and you’re going to ruin it, go in go in,”

You had climbed up the steps, you were going to leave once you reached their door, but it was already open with James waiting for you.

“We saw you on the map,” he said once he noticed you were confused. “Oh,” you said, you looked completely drained and James showed a soft remorse that made you crumple.

“Shh it’s okay,” he comforted, bringing you close as you shakily sighed into his chest. Your arms came to wrap around him, lips trembling as you started to cry. “Let’s get out of the hallway,” James told you, leading you into their dorm as he closed the door for privacy. Your face still buried in his chest, weeping uncontrollably as Sirius sat up from his lying position at the sound.

Peter and Remus piped up as well, as Sirius walked over and took you in his arms. He glared at James, thinking he did something.

“What’s wrong baby?” Sirius whispered gently, guiding you over to the bed as he sat you down on James bed. “It hurts,” you say, not giving much context as they all look at you confused, high in alert and they felt guilty for ignoring you in this state.

“What hurts?” Remus asked, Peter and him had come to stand close as James sat down on the other side of you. James pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, “she doesn’t feel warm,” he told them.

“Love what hurts?” Peter repeated, you sniffled and tried to calm down enough to tell them what was wrong. “My period,” you choked, you thought they had realised by now. The boys became aware quickly that that’s what had been making you upset the past few days.

“You’re periods don’t usually make you this emotional,” James questioned and you scoffed but they decided to let it slide.

“They aren’t always the same,” you told them, wiping your eyes as your uterus twisted again. You let out another sob, you didn’t want to go through this alone.

“I’m sorry dove, we should’ve realised sooner,” Remus said, crouching down as he took you in his arms. You curled yourself into him, he picked you up and switched so he was the one sitting down.

“Snape said something,” you sniffled, face resting in Remus's neck as your nose brushed up against his neck. They all became a bit angry, not liking the sound of that.

“What did he say?” James asked, rubbing your back. You took a moment to try and phrase it, it felt embarrassing to admit that his words had worried you. “He said… that the reason you guys were ignoring me was because you came to your senses,”

“Senses to what?” Peter asked, they all had been confused. “That you didn’t like me anymore,” you whimpered the words, tears welling up again. Their hearts stopped for a second, squeezing so tight they all thought they would pass out. James was angry with himself and Snape. James and Sirius felt horrible for ignoring you right after what Snape had said, they didn’t want to prove his statement.

“That fucking bastard,” Sirius fumed, standing up but peter pushed him back down. “She needs us, going off and throwing a few punches won’t do any good,” he whispered and Sirius looked over at James, but James only agreed with Peter. “Not right now,” he mouthed before they pulled their attention back to you.

“We’re so sorry,” Remus coo’s, rocking you gently as you cry into his neck. They all feel pity and a sense of guilt. “So sorry,” you tell them, feeling horrible for snapping.

“You don’t have to apologise,” James assures, rubbing your hair as he pulls it away from your soaked face. “we didn’t know, that’s on us,”

“I didn’t tell you,” you cried, “I was so mean to you, I didn’t mean it. Snape is right,” Sirius fumes at your thoughts.

“Don’t fucking say that bastard is right, he’s a-“ remus shoots Sirius a dangerous look, telling him to shut up before he upsets you more.

“We shouldn’t have just assumed every period is going to be the same, that's on us love,” James said, kissing your temple. “It ain’t right we care for Remus on his monthly and then ignore yours,” James said and Remus shot him to look like he had Sirius.

“It’s okay,” you say, calming down as you rub your face. “It’s not,” Sirius said, kissing your shoulder. Peter cleans up your face, rubbing gently with a warm cloth.

Without saying a word, they had concluded to spoil you. James had filled a heating pad with hot water, Sirius went down to get a potion to soothe your pain, Remus was helping you into a comfy jumper and pyjamas as Peter was getting the junk food.

After everyone got back and situated, you had found yourself between Remus and James, a black dog cuddled between your legs; it’s head over your lap, while a rat was curled under your chin. A heating pad rested on your stomach, junk food around the bed. You sigh happily, resting your head on James' chest while one hand is running through a thick fur coat, your other hand occupied with Remus's. You felt comfortable, all fights dismissed and forgiven, before you fell asleep, James had whispered “you deserve us, we aren’t going anywhere, not even when it gets rough,”.

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[princehrry-writings]

Daddy?

happy Easter if you celebrate it!! I've been working on this for a couple weeks!! It's the longest one-shot I think I've ever written.

word count: 5180

please please please flood my inbox with your thoughts and comments!! i want to know what you think!!!

warnings: some swearing (i think), absent birth father, single mom, nothing too serious.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her.

or

Y/n is a single mom and Harry wants to be a part of the family.

.

.

.

Getting pregnant was definitely not something Y/n wanted to be doing at 20 years old. She had a boyfriend and the career of her dreams but as soon as the news broke, one of those things was no longer true. Her ex skipped town faster than she could even finish telling him she was pregnant, so Y/n was left to her own devices since her family was so far away.

She was a songwriter. She had worked with all the big names in the industry from Taylor Swift to All Time Low. She was known for being able to write in any genre, that’s what set her apart and why people were clawing at the chance to work with her.

And then she got pregnant. She kept writing songs until she was eight and a half months along but due to minor complications, her doctor had ordered her to stay home. So she did. She stayed home, had the baby, and raised her all by herself. Now that baby, whose name is Stella, is four years old and is traveling the world with her mom. Y/n had gone back to work when Stella was a year old. At first, she would leave her baby with a sitter, but eventually, she got to a point where Stella was old enough to come along to writing sessions and quietly color or play with toys in a corner. She really liked going to work with her mom. She got to see a bunch of cool places and meet a lot of nice people.

And one of those people was Harry Styles. Y/n had met him a few times back when he was with One Direction, had even tried to work with the band a few times but things never lined up right. But now he was making his second studio album and only wanted the best of the best to write with him so naturally, he called Y/n. Harry knew she had a kid but he didn’t expect her to bring said kid to a writing session. Harry didn’t really mind- he loves kids, but his friends had been known to curse a lot and he didn’t want to cause any harm to the child.

He made sure to give everyone a stern talking to, even though Kid already knew to hold his tongue (his little ones had repeated some colorful words a few times). He wanted everything to go right, needed it to. Y/n was more than just another songwriter.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Harry smiled as she walked into the studio. She smiled back, walking into his open arms for a hug.

“Thank you so much for having me, I’m super stoked to be working with you!” She said, slightly muffled by his neck. Harry looked down behind Y/n and saw a little girl that looked exactly like the woman currently in his arms looking right back up at him. When the two pulled away Harry was quick to kneel down to her height.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her. Although he wasn’t mad, he understood Y/n had to teach her not to say things like that even if they were funny.

When Stella had settled at a table out of the way of the adults in the room with her coloring book and a juice box, the work began. Y/n and Harry sat at a piano bench ( he hoped she couldn’t hear his pounding heart) while Kid and Mitch, along with Jeff, sat scattered around the other furniture in the studio.

“So, I have a couple of ideas that I’ve been sitting on that I think you might like. You can look through this and see if there's something that catches your eye.” Y/n said, handing Harry a notebook. She tried to ignore the tingle she felt run up her arm when their fingers brushed. He flipped around the pages, noticing random little doodles in the corners and in between lines, and the somewhat messy but readable handwriting. He thought it was cute how she connected her s’s to her t’s and k’s when she wrote.

One page, in particular, caught his attention.

Golden, Golden, Golden

As I open my eyes

Hold it, focus

So you take me back to the light

I know you were way too bright for me

I’m hopeless, broken

So you wait for me in the sky

Brown my skin just right

“Is this a verse or a chorus?” He asked, pointing it out to her. She shrugged saying she didn’t really know yet but it would probably be a verse.

“I like it a lot,” He said and she smiled, picking up her guitar and strumming it to the tune she had thought of for the words. He listened and nodded along, already getting ideas for where to go next.

“I like the golden thing. I think that could be a good hook, something like we’re so golden,” Kid spoke up, tapping his fingers along to what she was playing.

“Or you’re so golden,” Mitch suggested. Harry and Y/n’s eyes widened at the same time, both looking up at each other when they heard the line.

“You’re so golden, you’re so golden…” Y/n hummed.

“I’m out of my head, and I know what you said about hearts get broken,”

“How about I’m out of my head and I know that you’re scared because hearts get broken,”

“I like that better, yeah!” Harry smiled, nodding along to the beat.

Y/n looked over 30 minutes later to see Stella had sprawled out on the floor with her arms folded beneath her head, first finger stuck into her mouth, and she smiled, breathing out a laugh.

“She’s so precious,” Harry murmured from beside you. Your gaze found his and the smile on your face widened a little bit.

“She is, isn’t she.” She said, pride present in her eyes.

“Looks just like you as well,”

“Yeah thank god, I don’t know what I would have done if she had ended up looking like her sperm donor,” Malice dripped from the end of her phrase. Y/n couldn’t even entertain the idea of her looking like the man who helped create her. That nerve was still a little raw, not because she had any remaining feelings, but because he had abandoned not only her but the beautiful baby girl who was napping not 15 feet away from her. She figured they were better off without him, yet her heart always shattered a little when Stella asked if she had a daddy like the people she sees on tv.

“I couldn’t imagine finding out the woman I loved was pregnant and then leaving her, any real man would have stayed.” His eyes were genuine, which she appreciated. Most people would say they felt sorry for her, pity dripping from their gaze, but she didn’t need pity, didn’t need people to feel sorry for her. But what Harry said was out of pity, he just honestly couldn’t understand how anyone would abandon a child.

“Yeah well, I guess I just wasn’t the woman he loved.” She said, looking back at her baby. Stella made all of that pain from when he disappeared worth it.

Harry wanted to be able to take that pain away.

---

“Hey I know it’s late, but I have this idea and I want you to hear it,” Harry’s raspy voice chimed through the speaker of Y/n’s phone. She glanced at the time, reading 1:30 AM, and sighed.

“Ok,”

“Come open the door,” He said.

“Wait what? You’re here?”

“Yeah, come on. It’s cold out here.”

“Ugh, hold on,” The woman sighed, hanging up and tip-toeing out of her room so her footsteps wouldn’t wake the sleeping four-year-old in the next room over. Her door was open and she was a light sleeper.

The door swung open and Harry stood there with a small smile on his face, burrowing as deep into his coat as he could to shield himself from the cold air outside.

“Hi!” His cheeky smile made Y/n’s heart flutter.

This was the first of many times he would show up at her place in the middle of the night.

---

Another night of Harry coming over late with a song idea he couldn’t wait to show Y/n, although now it was more he would come over after Stella fell asleep and the two would watch movies and talk, and sometimes write songs (even though the album was done).

The pair were perched on the couch in a heated conversation about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza (it does and that is a fact not an opinion) when the sound of little footsteps caught their attention. They both looked up from where they sat at the sound of loud crying coming down the stairs, seeing a small child with tears barreling down her face, cheeks flush an angry red, first finger stuck in her mouth, teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Y/n cooed, getting up and sweeping her into her arms. She went and sat back down on the couch, cradling the baby to her chest, brushing her hair out of her face, and rocking her back and forth.

“Scawwy dweam mommy,” She hiccuped into her mom’s neck, where she hid her face. Her tiny hands clutched onto her shirt, finger stick tucked between her lips.

Harry held back a coo at the little girl, feeling himself fall further and further for the little family of two sitting before him. He hadn’t been able to take his mind off of them since that first day he met Stella. He’d always had a schoolboy crush on Y/n since they first met all those years ago but knew it was one-sided when she introduced her boyfriend one of the last times they had seen each other. As fate would have it though, they found their way back to each other. Neither of them could deny the feelings they held, but Y/n was scared to bring someone into the picture because she didn’t want Stella to get attached to someone who wouldn’t be permanent. She was lucky her ex left before he ever got the chance to meet Stella, the kid had no clue what she was missing, therefore didn’t have any pain due to her absent father.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t imagine Harry stepping into that role. But she couldn’t ask that of him. He was at a time in his career where he didn’t have time to be the father of a four year old.

But life is full of surprises.

“Hawwy.” The baby whimpered and crawled off of Y/n’s chest, into his lap and snuggled her head right into him like it was where she was meant to be all along. His heart just about burst when the little girl fisted his shirt, tucking herself into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, cradling her into him and rocking her back and forth like her mother had been only moments ago.

Stella calms down almost immediately, to Y/n’s surprise. It usually takes her a while to console her baby from bad dreams, but all Harry had to do was hold her, and boom, no more tears.

“You alright petal?” He cooed into her hair, soothing his hand up and down her back to keep her calm. She nodded, letting out a huge yawn and closing her eyes, falling back asleep in his arms.

Y/n was astonished. Stella had never fallen asleep on anyone but her mom or her grandmother. She’s known Harry for a few months and was acting like he’d been there her whole life.

“Wow… she loves you.” Y/n whispered, not really meaning for him to hear but he did and his smile gave her the impression that he loved her too. But Stella wasn’t the only one he felt such affections for.

“Y/n....” He starts after a moment of silence, “I know this sounds crazy because we’ve only truly known each other for a few months… but I’ve had feelings for you for years. I missed my opportunity when you got with your ex but I’m here now, and I love you, and I love Stella, and I would do anything to stay in both of your lives if you’d have me. I want to be here for you, and I want to be here for her as well.” His confession shocked the woman sitting across from him.

Y/n was quiet, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought while she took in what he was saying. Trying her best to keep her fantasies of playing house with him at bay, she spoke.

“Harry, as much as all of that sounds lovely, you’re about to start press for the album and then go on tour. You’re not gonna have time to be in a relationship, and as much as I wish I could just jump into something like that, I can’t. I have her to think about…” She gestured to the toddler sleeping on him.

“She needs consistency, her life is already hectic enough.”

“So come with me!” He spouted, and then retracted a bit realizing he could wake Stella up.

“What?”

“Come with me! You two travel around already, so come on the press tour with me and then come on the big tour with me! I know this sounds impulsive and it’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever said in my life ever, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I know what I want Y/n, and that’s to be a part of this family. I want to be a part of your lives!”

“Harry, I-”

“Please Y/n. Give me a chance! I won’t let you down!” The gleam in his eyes shows her that he’s serious. He really does want this. Harry just hopes that Y/n can see just how willing he is, how much it would mean to him to have (what he already affectionately considers to be) his girls with him on tour.

It’s quiet, only sounds of Stella’s even breaths and the light noise of her sucking on her finger fill the room. Eventually, Y/n gathers her thoughts, mind made up.

“We’ll try it out… see how it goes….” She said, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding on to. Harry’s smile grew tenfold at her confession, reaching over and bringing her face closer to his to kiss her lips, careful not to wake the baby in his arms.

He had never been happier, Harry decides, than he is right now.

---

“Hawwy?” Stella’s voice catches Y/n’s attention from where she sits on the plane, in between her and Harry. She turns her little head to the man sitting in the aisle seat, big round eyes staring right into his.

“What is it, lovebug?” He asks, pushing her wild baby hairs away from her eyes. Y/n did her very best not to coo at the two of them. Harry had fallen perfectly into step with the mother and daughter, like this duo had been a trio all along. She was still hesitant to think of him as a father figure for Stella though, just because if things went south somehow, she didn’t want her baby suffering a loss like that (a second time).

Stella’s little fists rubbed at her tired eyes. She let out a small ‘hmph’ and laid her head on Harry’s arm, wrapping her own little arms around his.

“Awe you my daddy?” She asked and Y/n choked on her spit, looking back over at the toddler.

“Stella, baby-”

“I would love to be your daddy lovebug, but that’s not really up to me…” He spoke and glanced up at Y/n quickly, trepidation clear in his eyes. Harry was afraid he might overstep. Sure he knew that things were still new between him and Y/n but he wanted nothing more than for Stella to think of him as her dad.

“Who’s it up to?” Y/n could tell she was about to fall asleep but was fighting it in order to get her answers. She had adjusted to a more fast pace schedule quite nicely. She slept through most plane and car rides and absolutely loved being backstage at concerts. Harry thought she looked so adorable with her big noise-canceling headphones on. They had been on the road for a few months now, and it had been 8 months since Y/n decided to give him a chance.

“It’s up to mummy, baby.” He answered, his fingers tangling into his chestnut curls in a futile attempt to keep them out of his face.

Stella’s head immediately whipped to look at her mom, who sat frozen in her seat, not knowing what to do.

“Mommy, is Hawwy my daddy?” She repeated her question. Y/n had a feeling that Stella thought Harry was her real dad, the one that her mom didn’t like to talk about. She had to make sure there was no confusion.

“Not like you're thinking he is, baby. He’s not your birth dad, he didn’t help mommy make you, but if you want him to be your daddy, then that’s ok with me.” Y/n locked eyes with the man sitting across from her with a smile on his face. She was glad that they were flying private because she really didn’t need anyone ruining this moment for them. All her fears of this not working out felt stupid now.

How could she ever think that things with Harry wouldn’t work out? He was right where he belonged.

---

“Daddy!”

“Baby!” Harry knelt down to catch the running (almost) 5 year old, picking her up and spinning her around in his arms. They were in England for two weeks on tour. One for shows, and one so that Y/n and Stella could meet Harry’s mom and sister for the first time as a part of the family. Y/n had met them before as “a friend of Harry’s” many years ago, but they had never met her as Harry’s girlfriend, and they hadn’t met Stella.

Currently, Harry was in the middle of a show and Stella had just escaped her mothers arms side stage in favor of running to her dad. Y/n still couldn’t get over saying that. Harry is Stella’s dad. She doesn’t think that will ever get old.

No one knew how serious the relationship between Y/n and Harry was. The public knew they were together (after a very vague post on instagram of the mother/daughter duo napping with the caption “my girls”). Many people thought this was a PR stunt, just because it was so unlike Harry to post something like that. But he had actually confirmed in an interview that, yes, he was in a relationship with the songwriter and it was pretty serious. That was all he chose to say, in favor of keeping his secrecy, as he so famously loves to do.

What came as a shock to the audience was what the child had called Harry. They all knew about Stella, obviously, but no one would have thought that this child would think of him as her father. A lot of people didn’t like thinking about Harry being a father.

“What are you doing out here baby?” He said into her ear, making sure he could hear her over the loud noise of the audience. Most of them loved getting glimpses into his life, so the crowd was excited to see Stella out on stage and many thought it was adorable that she already thought of him as her dad.

“Missed you.” She said into his neck. The microphone had somehow picked up their little exchange and the whole crowd sighed a collective “awe” when she said that. She was perched on his hip with her little arms wrapped around his neck, her favorite place if she had to choose one. She was pretty small for a 4-year-old, most people usually thought she was younger.

Harry chuckled and saw Y/n standing there with a smile on her face. Mitch was giggling at the exchange and kept glancing back at Sarah with a knowing look of “That’s going to be us soon,” written on his face.

“I missed you too lovebug, but I’m in the middle of a show! I gotta send you back to mumma.” He said. Stella didn’t like that though, because as soon as the words left his lips she was clinging to him like he was her life force and the tears began streaming down her face. She didn’t like having to share her daddy. She just wanted to be held by him right now, and she’d be damned if she got anything but her way.

This amused everyone, the child's insistence to be in her father's arms, so he sighed and bent to her will because how could he say no to his baby girl?

So he walked over to her mom and got her headphones, slipping them on her, and walked back to his microphone with her on his hip, ready to start the next song.

“Harry and Stella” was trending on twitter the very next morning. No one could get enough of the father-daughter duo.

---

Y/n hadn’t been this nervous since she was about to give birth to Stella. She stood with her baby in her arms as Harry opened the door to his childhood home, announcing to his mom and sister that they were there. She had to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans more than once.

Anne rushed out from wherever she had been, greeting the three of them. Stella had met Anne via FaceTime many times so it was not news to her (or Gemma) that Harry had stepped into the role of Stella’s father. She will admit she was surprised at first but then she was reminded that Harry had been in their lives for almost a year before Stella had asked the question. It wasn’t something that was rushed into.

Anne was very excited to be meeting her grandbaby and was very excited to meet the girl that had made her a grandmother.

Stella got shy, not being used to seeing “Nana” in person. Gemma had emerged from her spot in the kitchen as well, greeting everyone.

“Hello, my loves! How was the trip?” Anne said, kissing both of them on the cheek, her hand gently caressing the child's cheek in an attempt to get her out of her shell. Once she realized that this was her Nana that was standing before her, Stella reached out for Anne, silently asking to be held by her. Anne jumped at the chance, sweeping the baby into her arms and giving her a big hug, kissing her on the forehead multiple times, not being able to quell her affection for her first grandchild.

“It was good mum, Stell slept the whole way and traffic was pretty light,” Harry said, slipping his hand into his girlfriend’s, brushing his thumb back and forth trying to help calm her anxieties. For whatever reason, Y/n was worried that Gemma and Anne wouldn’t like her because she had come into their son/brother's life with a child, but it was clear that the two ladies loved the idea of Harry being Stella’s father.

“Oh, that's lovely!” She smiled, cuddling Stella impossibly closer to her. Y/n felt most of her worries melt away seeing the woman with her baby.

She felt silly for thinking Anne would be anything but happy.

---

Anne would not put Stella down for anything. The two were attached at the hip every waking second. Y/n was actually starting to miss her baby, but she appreciated getting to spend time with Harry without having to keep an eye on their little one. Gemma was absolutely smitten with Stella as well. She was very excited to be “Auntie Gem” as Stella had quickly adapted to calling her. Stella was very happy as well. She had never been around so much family in her whole life. She’d been so used to just her and her mom, and then just them and Harry, but now she had two whole grandma’s all to herself and an auntie she gets to call her own, something she never knew she was missing, that Y/n never thought her baby would get to have.

Harry was so happy to see his baby with Anne and Gemma. They had been bumped to spot number 3 and 4 on his favorite girl list, with Stella and Y/n taking spots 1 and 2. They didn’t mind one bit.

“Daddy, can we watch a movie?” Stella jumped up onto his lap as he and Y/n sat on the couch, just talking and enjoying each other's company. Y/n smiled at the girl, tightening her grip around Harry’s shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“Of course we can lovebug! Go get Nana and auntie Gem and we’ll all pick one out together!” He replied, petting her wild baby hairs out of her eyes just like he always did.

“Auntie Gemma said to ask you if we could watch…” She paused for a second, her little finger tapping on her chin like she couldn’t remember what she was gonna say. Suddenly, she was up and running back to the hallway she had just come from. Y/n and Harry heard little whispers before she came running back out and plopped back onto Harry’s lap, on ‘oof’ erupting from him.

“This Is Us!” She finally said. Harry’s face dropped as he looked behind them to see Gemma standing there, trying to hold back her laughter. Y/n just started cackling and Stella was giggling even though she had no idea what was going on.

“Daddy’s in that movie baby,” Y/n finally calmed down enough to say to her daughter. The little one’s eyes lit up, her hands clasped underneath her chin. This was what she did when she wanted her daddy to say yes to her because she knew he couldn’t resist how adorable she was.

“Please please please!!!!!!” She whined, leaning in to place her forehead against Harry’s. She knew exactly how to get him. He caved every single time.

“Yeah, fine. We can watch it!” He finally said and all three girls cheered. Anne came in at the noise wondering what was going on.

“What’s all this?” She asked and Stella ran up to her, pulling on her

“We watching Daddy’s movie Nana!” She said, jumping up and down with a glowing beam on her face.

“Oh, are we now? Which one?” Anne asked and Stella paused.

“Daddy, how many movies awe you in?” She came back and crawled into his lap. She still had trouble saying her r’s. Her and Harry were working on it.

“Two, lovebug. But one of them you can’t watch until you’re older. It’s too scary f’you.” He said, cuddling his baby into his chest. She put on a little pout hearing that. She didn’t like when her daddy told her no, but this was something he wasn’t gonna budge on.

“Ok,” She sighed. All the adults thought this was adorable.

So they all settled in and watched the movie. Harry had a permanent blush on his face and Stella would jump up and down every time he was on the screen.

“Nana look!! That’s you!!” Anne laughed and nodded to her granddaughter.

“Yes, it is baby!”

“Mommy, why aren’t you in this movie?” She asked and everyone giggled.

“Me and Daddy didn’t know each other very well back then, baby.” Y/n laughed. Stella didn’t really understand but she didn’t say anything else.

The last few days had worn her out and that became very obvious when Harry looked down and saw his baby asleep on his chest, her first finger stuck in her mouth just like it always was when she fell asleep.

“Love, I’m gonna go lay her down, and then I’ll be right back,” Harry whispered, cradling the sleeping girl in his arms and slowly standing up. Y/n nodded, kissing his cheek before he left.

“He’s so good with her!” Gemma cooed, her face lighting up seeing her brother with his kid. A sight she was still kind of getting used to seeing.

“He really is…” Y/n smiled, “It was pretty instant too. Anytime he’d come over and she was still awake, he’d insist on putting her to bed, reading to her, singing to her, he’d bring her toys. She’s had him wrapped around her little finger since he first laid eyes on her.”

“That’s so precious,” Anne spoke up, coming to sit next to her, wrapping Y/n in her warm embrace.

“I can’t wait until you two get married!” Y/n laughed at Gemma’s confession, snuggling into Anne.

“All he has to do is ask, I’m ready to say yes!” What none of the girls knew was that Harry was standing right outside the living room, hearing everything that was being said. His mind raced back to his suitcase where a velvet box sat tucked away between all of his clothes.

He was hesitant to bring the idea up because it had only been a year, but the saying when you know, you know he thought.

He came back into the living room, acting none the wiser, sitting on the other side of the girl he was going to marry (she just didn’t know it yet), and cuddled into her just as she had cuddled into his mom.

“Daddy,” A small voice broke through the now quiet hum of the tv.

“Lovebug, what are you doing back up?” He asked, lifting the sleepy little thing into his lap.

“Scawwy dweam, daddy.” She said and he pouted, pulling her closer into his chest and snuggling her back to sleep.

Harry was exactly where he belonged in life. With his baby girl in his arms, and his Love by his side.

[let-them-read-fics]

What Could've Been

Requested By Anon: "pls do a rosé or jennie imagine where the reader is into them but they just keep rejecting her. then they just cross the line one day and say hurtful things to y/n so the reader just ended up stopped pursuing them. then someone else (could be the other rosé or jennie also of yk what i mean) became interested in y/n and they get all petty and jealous yk djajdua,, COULD BE ANY ENDING HFHSHAU I'M JUST A REAL SUCKER FOR IMAGINES LIKE THIS TYSM"

Pairing: Love Triangle -- Jennie x Fem!Reader and Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 7,333

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Rejection, Crying, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: ⚠️ Important ⚠️ Class, gather round -- we have some things to discuss. I'm not angry, just... disappointed. *dramatic music*

First off, I want to address something with asks: as I've stated before, there's no certain amount of time that any one request will take me. Sometimes I'm more inspired by one than others, and sometimes I legitimately lack the time or brainpower to write a piece that holds true to my standards.

Please, refrain from messaging me multiple times about a request. Once is fine, especially if it's been awhile since you first asked, but I'm doing my best to give you starving fans the content you wish to see, and that takes time.

To those of you who continue to be patient with me: I sincerely appreciate it.

Secondly, I hope you enjoy this. ♡ Happy Reading ♡

PS ~ Anon, I still love you. Now enjoy this fic or you're grounded.

PPS ~ It gets better as it goes on

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Thank you," you politely say to your driver, handing him some money before stepping out of the sleek black car and onto the sidewalk. The bottoms of your shoes crunch lightly as they come in contact with the concrete, steadily announcing your course towards the performance hall. 

You let out a breath as you stand in the elevator, alone with your thoughts in the small space as it ascends. 

Your hands nervously palm the fresh bouquets of flowers you purchased on your way here -- the girls just finished a comeback stage, so you've decided to surprise them and show your love. You spent time picking out a personalized batch for each of them, making sure to mix their favorite colors and types, but you went even further for Rosé: you hand picked a larger, special array, choosing them based on their meaning and how much you think she'll appreciate them. Over the years, you've made sure to note her favorite ones; that came in handy tonight, and the florist assisting you definitely appreciated your attention to detail. 

Too chicken to go to her first, you decide to bring the other girls their gifts now and save Rosie for last. All of them are unwinding independently in their dressing rooms right now, enjoying some much needed alone time before coming back together later to celebrate. 

"Jisoo-yah!" You sing-song, rapping lightly on the door. It's slightly ajar, but you still knock out of respect for her privacy. 

In an instant, the door swings open to reveal a very happy unnie. "Y/N! I've missed you!" She nearly shouts, pulling you in for an eager hug. A surprised noise leaves her lips as her hands come in contact with the bundle behind your back, crinkling the plastic slightly in her excited state. 

"I got you a present," you say, smiling softly. Jisoo can feel the way your cheeks raise up, brushing against the skin of her neck as your head rests there, and her heart melts. After pulling out of the embrace, she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

"Well? Let me see!" You do as she asks with a chuckle, pulling her bunch out of the hold of the rubber band that's keeping them all together. "I got your favorite." You grin, sticking them out for her to see. Her eyes widen at the sight, and she's touched by the kind gesture. Flowers aren't particularly unique in terms of what companies and fans send them, but seeing the effort you put in makes it incredibly special. She couldn't be happier. 

"Y/N, you're the best." She presses a small kiss to your cheek as a thank you, and invites you in right after. Jisoo considers you to be one of the closest friends she has, so being apart hasn't been easy on her. You're the only person she's okay with venting and crying in front of, and she's been needing that lately. Sensing this, you pull a chair up to her vanity and let her fill you in on all the mayhem you missed out on during your time away, holding her hand for reassurance. When she gets a little frustrated, you rub her back gently, telling her to take her time. 

Jisoo is beyond thankful for you, and that becomes more and more apparent the closer you two get. Times like these hold a special place in her heart and remind her of why she loves you so much. You truly are a great friend to have, and there's no one she'd rather have in her corner. 

----

"Incoming! 3...2...1…" You call out, standing in front of Lisa's door, ready to knock it down and barge in. The greeting is an inside joke between the two of you, though neither of you know where its origins lie. 

"Yah! Hold on!" She shouts, nearly tripping and falling from how quick she rushes to the door. You laugh at the sounds of chaos coming from inside, wincing slightly when a thud rings out. Hair slightly disheveled, she opens the door with a huff. "This had better be good, because I almost died." 

Wordlessly, you reveal her present and smirk as the halfhearted scowl on her face disappears completely, giving way to a dopey grin. "You remembered?" She asks quietly, running her fingers over the petals of her all-time favorite flower. The fact that she sounds so shocked makes you sad -- not many people take enough time to notice the little things. They'd rather focus on profiting off of the girls' talents than actually caring enough to get to know them. 

"Of course I did, Lisa. You're one of my best friends; how could I forget?" The maknae pulls you in for a meaningful hug, allowing the gesture to tell you all the things she doesn't know how to express. She's not always the best with her words, but she makes up for it with her actions. 

"I really love you, dork. You know that?" She asks as she pulls away, ruffling your hair lightly. She cracks that smile that seems to make the world stop, and you just shake your head. 

"You'd better. Your flowers were the most expensive!" You tease, dodging her when she reaches out to grab you for that one. 

"Get back here!" She shouts, chasing you down the hall like a 5 year old, planning to get her revenge. 

---

"Jendeukie, open up!" You squeal, pounding on her door while throwing a look over your shoulder. Lisa is dangerously close, ready to tackle you as she continues charging down the hall. 

"Y/N?!" She exclaims from the other side of the door, clearly not expecting you to be here. 

"Hurry!" You can hear footsteps eagerly rushing towards the door, and just as she opens it, disaster strikes. 

Lisa's arms wrap around your waist, pushing you forward and right into Jennie. The three of you fall into her dressing room in a messy heap, limbs splayed in various positions as you yell together on the way down. You manage to keep the flowers out of harm's way, thankfully, and your arm remains stuck out just in case Lisa tries anything else. 

"Hello to you, too, Y/N." Jennie groans with a chuckle, the words coming out a little strained from all the weight on her. Lisa stands first, pulling you up right after, and you turn to help your best friend up as well. 

"I sure know how to make an entrance, huh?" Your lopsided grin makes Jennie weak in the knees, much like it has ever since she met you all those years ago, and she has to fight to contain the blush that rises to her cheeks. After bantering with Lisa for a few more moments you eventually push her out of the room, shoo-ing her back to her own in order to give yourself some one-on-one time with Jennie. 

You stick your tongue out at the maknae one final time before shutting the door and turning around, finding a very soft looking Jennie peering back at you. Her cheeks are pulled back in her signature gummy smile, and the fluffy sleeves of her Chanel sweater engulf her small hands as she cradles her face in them. 

Perhaps, if circumstances were different, you'd be hopelessly pining for this 5'4" angel instead of Rosé. Love knows no logic, though, and you're stuck chasing after a certain Australian beauty that never seems capable of giving you the time of day.

"I missed you," she pouts, pursing her lips adorably as she steps forward to wrap her arms around your shoulders. You pull her in and pick her up with a spin, smiling into her neck when she giggles in your ear. 

"Well, I'm here now. And luckily for you…." you start, allowing for some anticipation to build, "I come bearing gifts. Well, a gift. Singular." Jennie chuckles at your rambling -- it's one of the traits she finds most endearing about you, and she always hates it when people cut you down for it. It's adorable in every way. 

"Oh?" She asks, intrigued as she raises an eyebrow -- she's keeping the act up for you, of course, too fond of the cute smile on your face to tell you that she already knows what it is. You hand over the flowers with a little jig, too excited by how happy she looks to contain yourself. 

"They're beautiful, Y/N." She stops herself from adding a, "just like you," to the end of the phrase, wishing she was able to say things like that. You deserve to be reminded of how special you are everyday, and she knows her bandmate fails to do so. 

"So, what've you been up to?" You amble over to the couch that's tucked away in the corner of her dressing room, plopping down onto the cushions with a small bounce. Rosé's flowers lay beside you, and Jennie eyes them. 

"Same old, same old," she says, finally looking back at you with a tiny grin. "Practice for the comeback has kept us really busy lately, and somebody hasn't been there to tell us jokes at 3AM and keep us going." She playfully rolls her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. 

"My most sincere apologies," you hold a hand over your heart in mock regret, bowing your head with closed eyes. "On the bright side, though, I'm back in town for next month or two. I finished the business deals we had to handle abroad, so now I'm all yours." 

She knows you didn't mean hers, but that doesn't stop her from pretending. 

A happy noise of approval slips past her lips, and she claps excitedly. The sight reminds you of some of the childhood videos she's shown you, the two looking eerily similar to one another. No matter what may happen in her life, Jennie will most certainly remain that innocent young girl at heart, getting scared by everything that moves and loving with her all. She's an amazing person to know, and part of you feels sorry for everyone who'll never get the privilege of knowing her personally -- after all, everyone deserves a Jennie Kim in their lives. 

"Are you celebrating with us later?" She asks from in front of her mirror, now brushing her hair to busy herself. She runs the risk of making her feelings too obvious if she doesn't keep herself occupied. 

"I was planning to, yes. But that might depend on Rosé." You inform with a nervous chuckle, an anxious smile playing on your lips. When you look up and find her brows furrowed, you elaborate. 

"I'm gonna try to ask her out today when I bring her these flowers." You lightly chew your bottom lip out of habit, rubbing your hands together. The mere thought of such a task is daunting, especially with your not-so-perfect track record when it comes to her. You still try to cling to what little hope you have squirreled away in your heart, wishing with all your power that your sweet present will convince Rosé to at least give you a chance. 

Distracted by your thoughts, you don't notice the way that Jennie's face falls. Her heart is breaking in silence, splintering into pieces far too small to put back together. She knew this day would come eventually, given that you're a determined person and head over heels for Rosé, but that doesn't mean she was prepared to find out like this. The lovesick glimmer in your eye hurts Jennie even more, knowing that you're probably imagining what it would be like for her to say yes to you. This whole time, Rosé has been stringing you along -- giving you just enough hope to keep coming back to her, using your devoted acts of kindness selfishly -- and Jennie would do anything to make you see that. You don't deserve what she puts you through. 

"...Earth to Jennie!"

The brunette snaps back to reality and clears her throat, attempting to gather her thoughts again. 

"Sorry, just got lost there for a second." She says, looking back into your eyes after a moment. A curious look plays in them, and she can practically see you debating on whether or not to question her further. She lets out a quiet sigh of relief when you accept her answer, choosing instead to smile at her. 

"It's alright. But what's not alright, is that I've been sitting here for 5 minutes and you haven't come over to cuddle me. I mean seriously, a girl's gone for forever and her best friend doesn't bombard her with love?" You shake your head with an amused smile, throwing your hands in the air. 

Oh, the things she would do to change that title. 

Successfully suppressing the pang of longing that runs through her, Jennie quips back, "A month and a half is hardly forever, Y/N." 

"It felt like it, though. I missed seeing you." 

She finds you pouting, your arms folded across your chest like a toddler, and her heart melts. Any amount of time without you is too long for Jennie's liking, and she's happy to know you missed her as well. 

"Fine, I guess I can spare some cuddles." She pretends to be put out as she approaches you, really playing the part by huffing and looking uninterested. Inside, though, she's celebrating. She can't wait to hold you close again, even if it may lead to her hurting herself with the what-ifs and scenarios that play in her mind. 

"Yay!" You shout, pulling her into your lap before laying your head on her shoulder. Her heart beats rapidly at the proximity, and she prays to every higher power in existence that you don't notice it. 

She relaxes after a moment, releasing the tension from her muscles as she sinks into your embrace. It's warm and comforting, and she never wants you to let go. Her head rests on top of yours, and she's content just running her hands through your hair, feeling your calm breaths against her skin. 

She's so in love it hurts. 

-----

This'll convince her, you whisper to yourself, attempting to sound confident -- key word: attempting. If there's one thing you know about Rosé, it's that she loves to be difficult with you. You caught feelings for her years ago when you were first introduced to each other at a company event, and ever since then you've done nice things for her nonstop, hoping that she'd fall for you with time. The longer you wait, though, the more discouraged you get. Regardless, those times that she appreciates your efforts make up for all the rest, and you'd gladly take 100 instances of the "bad" in order to have even just one of the "good". 

After taking a deep breath, you knock on the door a couple times.

A sigh can be heard, sounding like a complete 180 from the reactions of the other girls. The subsequent footsteps are heavy -- like she's dragging her feet, not even wanting to get up in the first place -- and they work to dishearten you a bit. Nevertheless, you imagine how happy she'll be when she sees the surprise, and a small smile makes its ways onto your lips. All you want to do is brighten her day, if only for a moment. 

An indifferent expression rests on her face when she first opens the door, likely expecting someone else to be standing in your place. Not much changes when she realizes it's you, though a sliver of a smile does quirk up at the corner of her lips. 

"Hiya Rosie," you greet sweetly, unable to contain how wide your smile grows at seeing her again. She makes you feel like a giddy school girl, and you can't decide if you love it or hate it. 

"What's up?" She asks, more out of common courtesy than anything else. Her body leans against the doorframe, her left arm resting behind the door. She didn't throw it open or invite you in like the other girls, so that tells you that she probably doesn't want visitors. 

When you take too long to answer, she asks dryly, "Are you just gonna stare at me?" Her voice is laced with a slight undertone of annoyance -- one that makes you shrink down a bit. You can practically hear how exhausted she is, and part of you feels bad for disturbing her with your presence. 

"N-no, sorry." You curse yourself for looking like a fool. "I got you something that I think you'll enjoy." Her eyebrows raise slightly and you can tell she's intrigued, even if she may try to deny it. 

"Here." You declare, nervously fixing the plastic as you hold the bundle in front of you. You want it to look perfect for her. 

"I, uh, hand picked it." 

"Thank you, it's lovely." She says politely, taking them from you and bringing them up to her nose. She admires the gentle, pleasant scent of them, and smiles appreciatively at you.

You blush under her gaze, slightly tripping over your words as you respond, "Of course, I'm glad you like it." 

Now, the part you dread: when the conversation dwindles down, threatening to end entirely unless you step up to keep it going. 

"Well, how've you been?" You cringe at the overused question, but you're willing to employ it in order to hear her sweet voice for a little longer. 

"Look, Y/N, I really appreciate the gift and all, and I'm really happy to see you again, but I don't feel like talking right now. I just want to enjoy myself for a little bit." Her denial makes you scrunch your face up, embarrassed beyond belief as her words sink in. You should've known that flowers wouldn't suffice. Perhaps that last line stung the most -- you try not to read too far into it, but the idea that she doesn't enjoy herself when talking to you nags at your heart. 

"Yeah, yeah. For sure." You scratch the back of your neck, awkwardly taking a step away from her door and back into the hallway. 

"I'll see you at the get together later though, right?" You ask, kicking yourself when you realize how hopeful you sounded. You have to get better at hiding it. 

"Sure," she nods, sending you a smile and little wave before saying goodbye and shutting the door. 

Well, that was a bust. Damn. Back to the drawing board, it is -- though your ego will need a few hours to recover. 

---

"Lisa, I swear to god, if you come near me with that I'll punt you across this room." 

Your very serious, totally-not-exaggerated warning evidently worked against you, because the maknae soon raises her head to look at you, grinning like a maniac. Frosting from the cake she just messily cut into covers her hands, looking threatening as she wiggles them at you. 

"I mean in!" You shout as a last resort, slowly backing away. You accidently bump into Jennie in the process, but you fail to realize that it was part of the plan all along: she and Lisa are in cahoots. When the maknae lunges, swiftly striding across the room towards you, you attempt to move out of her path and get somewhere safer. Steady hands on your waist keep you anchored in place, though, and you try to fight them. 

"Jennie?! Let me go, she's right there!" You squeal, trying to pry her fingers off of your hips one by one. She merely laughs, whispering a sorry into your ear right before Lisa's hands run across your cheeks and neck. You squirm, leaning further back against Jennie to evade the younger girl as she does her worst. 

Now, practically having a face mask of frosting, you step away from the girls and glare at them. 

"Bullies, I tell you." You say to Jisoo, groaning when she busts out laughing. It doesn't take a genius to know that you look a mess, and you'd probably laugh at yourself if the roles were reversed. The others soon join in, and a chorus of belly laughs fill the air around you. 

"Go ahead, laugh it up," you tell the girls, nodding your head, "Just wait til I get my revenge. I'm coming for you, Manoban." You point a finger at her as you exit the room, grinning when you hear the oooo's that they let out at your threat, and you make your way to the bathroom at the end of the long hallway before you.

On your way back, you hear Rosé's voice filtering in from one of the lounge rooms that branch off of the main corridor. Intrigued, you stop walking and listen in. 

Big mistake. 

Your ears perk up when you hear your name roll off her tongue, though her subsequent sentences crush your spirits. 

"...I know, right? She's honestly so annoying. Like earlier, I was finally getting cozy after our performance and then she just showed up."

Too shocked to leave now, you stay where you are and try not to let her words hurt you too much. She listens to the person on the other end of the line, laughing at something they said. That sound -- one you’ve grown to love more than anything else in the world -- is turning into something you hate. It feels like she's laughing at you; which, in hindsight, she probably is. 

"Exactly! She had flowers for me, as if I don't get those almost everyday already, and I guess she really thought that that would win me over. It was sweet but, c'mon, you know?"

Every insecurity you have is nagging at you, and you can't stop the few tears that roll down your cheeks at her brutal honesty. She's really hurting your feelings, and you can't help but want to call her out for it. So, you do just that: you step into the open room, one that lacks an actual door, and say, "Next time you wanna talk shit about someone, maybe you should make sure they're not around to hear it." 

Her smile falters slightly, and she spins around to face you. A hint of guilt plays on her features, but you're sure it's only because she got caught -- she definitely meant everything she said. 

"Y/N--"

You don't stick around to listen to what she has to say. Her change of behavior surprised you, and you can't trust that she's even sorry for it. 

Your pace quickens as you hear her voice become clearer -- she's in the doorway now, calling after you, but you don't even turn around. The salt of your tears greets your tongue, and you're once again reminded to wipe your face as you rush down the hall, rounding a couple corners and darting past countless doors on your way. You just want to get out of this place and be alone. 

A new voice slows your strides as it greets your ears, feeling like a security blanket in its gentleness. It's Jennie. "Y/N? Why are you crying?" She came to look for you when you took too long to return from the bathroom. 

You're far too embarrassed to look at her, so you simply sniffle and raise a hand up in her direction. "Don't worry about me, Jen. It's not important." 

"Hey, yes it is. You're upset and that matters." She steps towards you, saying the words that you had no idea you needed to hear so badly. Your heart aches, still shocked by the fact that Rosé would say such things about you. You thought you were friends, if nothing else, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now. 

When you don't move away, Jennie takes that as a sign to bring you into her arms, cradling your head against her chest. The kind act hurts your heart more for some reason, and you want to pull away. Jennie senses this and decides to rub soothing circles on your back, her warm embrace comforting you as she says, "I don't know what happened, Y/N, but I'm right here. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, either, but please don't leave like this. I hate to see you upset." 

Something about the way she's holding you, so close and tenderly, is comforting beyond belief and you can't find the desire to leave anymore. 

"Can we at least go to your dressing room? I don't want everyone to see me like this."

"Of course, sweetheart. Come on." 

Sweet phrases of reassurance are whispered to you as she leads you away, keeping you safe from prying eyes the entire time. Jisoo appears in the doorway of the party room, raising a concerned brow when she sees the two of you approaching. Jennie shakes her head at the unnie before she can utter a word, giving her a silent answer as she uses her eyes to communicate what's happening. Jisoo eventually understands, and she offers a sympathetic nod when you pass by.  

-------

7 Months Later

"Hey Jennie, do you think you can go answer the door? I'd do it myself, but…" Jisoo trails off, glancing down at the bowl of partially mixed dough that sits in front of her on the counter. Her hands continue to knead the mixture as she looks up at the younger girl, subtly sighing in relief when she agrees. 

There's more than one reason behind having Jennie be the one to answer it. 

The brunette grabs a pen as she pads her way over to the door, ready to sign for a delivery package -- that's usually the only thing they get at the dorm, considering guests are discouraged for the most part. Screw YG and their rules. 

Being a bit clumsy, Jennie accidently knocks her phone out of her own hand as she opens the door, muttering out a quiet “shit” as she bends down to retrieve it. Her eyes trail over to the stylish boots that set just a few feet away, and her breath hitches. 

"Hi baby." You greet with that healing smile that she's missed so much, peering down at her with a look in your eye that makes her heart trip and stumble over itself. 

"Y/N!" She shrieks, jumping up from the ground and right into your arms. 

"Uumph--" you let out in surprise, making sure to catch her and prevent her from falling. Ever since you two began dating a few months ago, leaving has become harder and harder. Jennie is beyond thrilled to have you back again, and she tries not to think about the next business trip you'll have to take. It's a methodical rhythm -- a month or two abroad and the same amount back home, then you're left to repeat the cycle over and over. Both of you hate it, and you'd much rather spend all your time with her instead. After all, ever since the incident with Rosé all that time ago, Jennie has steadily worked her way into your heart and become someone you can't live without. You were close before, but you've reached a new level now -- and that's about the only thing you can thank Rosé for. By hurting you and showing you how little she cared, she effectively pushed you right into Jennie's waiting arms.

"I'm so happy you're home." She says with a sigh, truly grateful to have you in her arms again. You wrap your arms tighter around her waist and sway a little bit, both of you content with just holding each other for a while longer. The weather outside is dazzlingly perfect; signs of summer apparent in everything around you. Birds chirp their looping songs as they fly through the air, feeling the sun's gentle heat on their wings all the while. 

You move your head enough to be level with hers, bringing her in for a long-overdue kiss. She smiles into it, cupping your cheek with one of her hands as she languidly moves to deepen it. 

Rosé should've stayed in her room. She should've ignored her stomach's incessant grumbling for a snack; but she didn't. 

She gave in, and now she's stuck, rooted in place as she watches Jennie kiss you, the one that got away. It's like watching a train wreck: she can't look away, and part of her psyche knows she deserves this. The apple in her hands is the only thing working to distract her, and she grips it tightly within her clutch to comfort herself. You look good -- so good -- and Rosé doesn't know whether to be happy or not. She knows she didn't treat you right -- then or ever -- but for some selfish reason that she doesn't dare give voice to, she wants you to still be hurting. She wants you to be suffering like she is now, crying into your pillowcase at night when she crosses your mind. She wants you to miss the good times, though there may not have been enough of them, and she wants you to want her again. 

You've turned the tables on her, and she doesn't know how to cope. 

She realized what she had once it was gone -- once you were gone, too busy falling in love with Jennie to pay her any mind anymore. She misses how devoted you were to her and how much care you put into everything you did; she misses the consistency that you offered; she misses every sweet thing you ever did for her. Hell, she even misses hearing you ramble and seeing you blush when all she did was smile at you. 

But you're gone now, destined to be with her member when all she wants is another chance. She'll never get it, certainly not after everything she's put you through, and she resents herself for treating you so badly. All you ever did was care, and she was too self-centered to give a crap. 

She deserves this. She deserves to see you happy with Jennie, happy in a way she could never make you. For you, she deserves to hurt; to silently cry in her room when she hears the two of you on call, laughing about whatever new thing you experienced that day. Because it wasn't just the one instance of pain she inflicted on you; it wasn't just that one night at the performance hall -- it was a steady build up of rejection and half-assed excuses, and even she can't blame you for getting tired of it. She wishes she hadn't been so stupid to deny you. 

What's worse is that she's actually fallen for you now; she imagines what could've been, what would've been, had she given you an honest chance. She's never tried to deny how gorgeous you are -- that's a given -- but now you're bruisingly beautiful, shining with the happiness that Jennie's worked hard to instill in you again. Shining with the love you hold for that 5'4" angel. 

Maybe, if circumstances were different, you'd be in Rosé's arms right now. Perhaps in another life. 

---

"Do you want to come in? Jisoo's working on some dessert for the lunch we just made. We can heat you up a plate in the meantime…" Jennie trails off, hoping to persuade you. She knows it's risky, considering the tension that feels almost tangible anytime the three of you are together, but she doesn't want to let you go so soon. 

"I don't know…" The uncertainty in your voice is clear, and Jennie watches as a slight grimace crosses your features when you look past her and into the dorm. Luckily Rosé had already found the will power to move to the dining room, so you're spared from seeing her just yet. 

"If things get weird or uncomfy we'll leave, okay? I promise." She says, knowing she's convinced you once you give her a little nod. 

"Okay. But I'm only doing this because I missed Jisoo's cooking." A playful glint shimmers in your eye as you quirk your head to the side, teasing her. 

"Hey!" She groans, pushing your shoulder as the two of you walk down the little concrete path that leads to the front door. "I'm kidding! I missed Lisa's jokes, too." 

You laugh at the gasp she lets out, and you make sure to turn around and press a kiss to her temple to stop her from pouting. 

--

"So, Y/N, where did you go this time?" Jisoo asks, leaning against the marble island of the kitchen as she pops a piece of tanghulu in her mouth. The crack of the sugary coating pulls your attention away from Rosé, where it had momentarily been -- she looks awful. Bags rest underneath her eyes, her normally vibrant features crestfallen now as her gaze scans across the food on her plate. 

You look at Jisoo as you answer her. "The states. We worked with some local companies and small businesses to get more promotional material out in front of people. It's actually pretty amazing, guys -- you're blowing up over there. They love you." The girls smile at your words, feeling a sense of accomplishment swell within themselves. Back when they were trainees they never imagined that they'd end up this far, and yet here they are, seeing their dreams come true, day after day. 

You're just happy to be along for the ride. It's not easy by any means -- people often crack under the pressure and get discouraged by the hustle and bustle of everything that such a major operation entails -- but you've never been more thankful for a position in your life. 

"As they should," Lisa smirks, looking self-assured with the little cocky motion she does. You almost choke on the piece of food you just stuffed in your mouth, laughing at how ridiculous she looks. 

After successfully not dying, you look at her and shake your head. "Lisa, what is wrong with you?" She puts on her infamous meme face, pretending to be shocked by your question, and you cackle again. The sound makes Rosé jealous; she wishes she were the one making you laugh like that. 

Another hour or so passes with the 5 of you just relaxing and snacking together at the table, taking turns trading stories and jokes in the meantime. After finishing your dessert and complimenting the unnie's cooking skills, you make your way towards the kitchen with a groan of, "I'm so full" thrown over your shoulder. 

You begin washing the dishes, finding it only fitting seeing as they spent all that time preparing such a good meal. It's the least you can do. A smile tugs at your cheeks when you hear the door open, followed by light footfalls against the hardwood. Jennie. 

Warm arms snake around your waist as she hugs you from behind, resting her cheek against your back. Your brows furrow when you notice an unusual thing -- either Jennie grew a few inches in the last 5 minutes, or someone else is holding you. Their cheek reaches a place Jennie isn't tall enough to, and it all hits you.

It's Rosé. 

You go to shut the water off and step away, but the sounds of her quiet sniffles give you pause. "Please don't." She whispers into your shirt, bunching the material up within her fingers against your stomach. A pang of sadness pulls against your heart strings, the long forgotten feeling reignited by the waver in her voice. "Rosé," you start with a sigh, ready to launch into the practiced speech of how happy you are with Jennie now and how you've moved on. She tugs at your shirt, slowly turning you around, and you can't find it in yourself to break her heart even further in this moment. Her eyes are filled with what tears have yet to stream down her face, brimming with the salty liquid you hate to see. 

Even after everything, you can't stand to see her cry. 

So, perhaps stupidly, you allow her to lean forward and rest her head against your chest; you let her fall into your arms, sinking into the embrace she never intended to miss so much. 

It was innocent. Completely, utterly innocent, but Rosé couldn't stop herself -- not when you were there again, right in front of her, looking so good it hurt. She wrapped her arms around your neck, pushing her lips against yours in a kiss you weren't prepared for at all. Her mouth moved quickly against yours, knowing you'd be shoving her away at any moment. But she was okay with being selfish again -- she needed you then, and you allowed her to keep kissing you until you realized what was happening. 

As you go to stumble away and put distance between the two of you, the door once again opens; only this time, it's actually Jennie. Her eyes immediately dart between the two of you as she notices how Rosie's hands are still holding you close, both of your lips swollen from the kiss. All at once you realize how the situation must look, and you begin panicking. You knew this was a bad idea from the start. 

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think." You shake your head, finally freeing yourself of Rosé's grip as you take a couple steps towards your girlfriend. She takes an equal amount back, scoffing lightly at the memory of the scene she just witnessed. 

"Yeah, okay," she says, sounding anything but convinced as she makes her way towards the door. You go after her, but she holds a hand up -- after knowing her for so long, you've learned that that signal means to give her some time alone. Both of you know you'll go after her again later, but she needs some time right now. As she leaves the dorm, the heavy sound of the door shutting is the only noise that cuts through the palpable tension. 

"How could you do that?" You ask, voice small, not even turning around to look at Rosé. You doubt that she's even sorry. 

She isn't sorry. At least, not for kissing you. It felt good to have you like that, and she doesn't regret it. However, from what angle of your face your side profile offers to her, she can see how upset you are. That's what makes her feel the slightest bit guilty for her timing. 

"I spent so much time trying to get you to notice me, and now you choose to do that? You're unbelievable, Roseanne-- I'm finally happy, and what, you want to ruin that?” She takes the blows as they come, staying quiet. “If you've ever cared about me at all then you'll stay away." You set your jaw, willing the tears to go away. You've wasted too many on her, and you'll be damned to look weak right now. 

"Y/N, I-" 

"No. Don't apologize when we both know you don't mean it. You've always been selfish, Rosé." You bite back, not caring if the words cut her down like her old ones always used to do to you. Earlier, before her little stunt, you were starting to feel sorry for her; clearly though, that was yet another mistake on your part. 

You leave without another word, praying that she doesn't further complicate the situation by following after you. Jennie is the only thing on your mind as you hop in your car, having an idea of where she might be.

--

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think." 

Your worried voice replays in her mind for the millionth time, further tormenting her. She's been cheated on before, so that phrase isn't a new thing to her. 

She was always afraid this would happen. She used to lay awake at night, overthinking as usual, wondering when the beautiful thing the two of you created would ultimately come crashing down. It was too good to be true, and she curses herself for foolishly believing any different. 

The better part of an hour passes by as she sits on the park bench, reminiscing on all the memories you've made here. The idea of ending things with you and starting over with someone else sinks in, and she hates the feeling. She only wants you -- she's only ever wanted you -- and the thought that things could really be over now hurts her more than she cares to admit. 

Your eyes scan across the park, ghosting over the playground equipment until they zero in on her, sitting near the fountain that you shared your first kiss. Such a sap, you smile bittersweetly. 

You ruffle through the plastic bag that sits in the passenger's seat, moving the receipt out of the way so that you can pick up what you're really after. Returning your hands to the steering wheel, you grip it while giving yourself a little pep talk before exiting the car. You press a kiss to the present in your hand for good luck, hoping this encounter will go well. 

Water spouts from the top of the fountain, the sound growing louder the closer you get to Jennie. Her back is turned to you, and for that you're thankful -- you're not quite prepared to see how she'll be looking at you. Now just a few feet away, you say, "Marry me."

You’ll do whatever it takes to show her how crazy you are about her.

Her head whips around, completely taken aback by your proposal. She thinks that there's no way you're serious, but when she looks down to find her favorite flavor of ring pop in your hand, her eyes widen. You're sick of wasting time, and seeing that she hasn't yelled at you or turned you away yet, you take advantage of the situation. 

"Marry me, Jennie," you repeat, taking small, careful steps towards her until you're right next to the bench. "She kissed me, but I tried to push her away. I told her that you're the only one for me." 

She blinks, taking in your words as she notices you nervously toy with the plastic wrapper of the candy. She knows you're telling the truth; you're a terrible liar, and you wouldn't be here right now if you didn't want her back. If you wanted to choose Rosé over her, you had the perfect opportunity to do so back at the dorm.

But you don't; you want Jennie, and now you're standing in the middle of your favorite park, proposing with a piece of candy to prove that to her. The things you do for love. 

"It just scared me, Y/N. Seeing her wrapped around you like that--"

"I know, baby. I know. But I promise I didn't want it, and it meant nothing to me. I'm so in love with you, Jennie Kim." 

She smiles at the dopey grin on your face, seeing how smitten you are. 

"Okay," she answers back, yet again looking at your hands. 

"Is that a yes?" You ask, slowly beginning to tear open the wrapper. 

"Yes, dummy. I'll marry you." She declares, nodding her head with a laugh at how slow you are sometimes. 

"Yay!" You shout, stepping forward to pick her up in your arms. You set her back down with a smile, slipping the ring onto her finger as your heart soars. 

Jennie kisses you, letting the action convey all the emotions she's been through in the past few hours. "I love you." She sighs, resting her forehead against yours. 

"I'd surely hope so, jagi," you smirk against her lips, giggling at the squeal she lets out when you playfully pinch her side. Her kisses are replacing all traces of Rosé, and she's comforted by the fact that you'll so adamantly choose her, everyday. 

With a smile, Jennie realizes something: never again will she be forced to dream of having you in another life -- her wishes came true, and now she'll have you in this one, always.

[perpetual-stories]

How To Fight Writers Block

hello, hello. hope everyone is doing well. as you can all tell, this post will be about how to fight writers block.

it’s really annoying to me when I hear people say “oh you don’t have writers block, you’re just lazy.”

first of all, yes, I am naturally lazy. second of all, how dare you. writing isn’t as easy as many think. granted, all you have to do is write down words on paper, but it’s not always easy to find the right words to express what you are feeling, or what you wish to say.

I have had terrible writer’s block for the last few days and it’s horrible! as a business owner or a small writing store, I have to be ready to write and fulfill my clients’ ideas and orders.

it’s not easy. It takes a heavy toll on my imagination, and digs me a deep pit of blockage, drowning in the lack of originality because of the constant writing and repetition or certain phrases and sentences in different projects.

i am making this post in the hopes to remind myself about over coming the dreaded and sometimes skeptically believed writer’s block.

What is writer’s block?

Yeah, I know. We all know what that is, but let me define it.

is the state of being unable to proceed with writing, and/or the inability to start writing something new

some people believe it to be a real problem, others believe it's “all in your head”

What Causes Writer’s Block?

in the 1970s, clinical psychologists Jerome Singer and Michael Barrios decided to find out

they concluded that there are four broad causes of writer's block:

Excessively harsh self-criticism

Fear of comparison to other writers

Lack of external motivation, like attention and praise

Lack of internal motivation, like the desire to tell one's story

How to overcome writer's block: 20 tips

1. Develop a writing routine:

Author and artist Twyla Tharp once wrote: “Creativity is a habit, and the best creativity is a result of good work habits.”

it might seem counterintuitive

if you only write when you “feel creative,” you're bound to get stuck in a tar pit of writer's block

The only way to push through is by disciplining yourself to write on a regular schedule. It might be every day, every other day, or just on weekends — but whatever it is, stick to it!

2. Use "imperfect" words:

A writer can spend hours looking for the perfect word or phrase to illustrate a concept

You can avoid this fruitless endeavor by putting, “In other words…” and simply writing what you’re thinking, whether it’s eloquent or not

You can then come back and refine it later by doing a CTRL+F search for “in other words.”

3. Do non-writing activities:

one of the best ways to climb out of a writing funk is to take yourself out of your own work and into someone else’s

Go to an exhibition, to the cinema, to a play, a gig, eat a delicious meal

immerse yourself in great STUFF and get your synapses crackling in a different way

Snippets of conversations, sounds, colors, sensations will creep into the space that once felt empty

4. Freewrite through it:

free-writing involves writing for a pre-set amount of time without pause — and without regard for grammar, spelling, or topic. You just write.

The goal of freewriting is to write without second-guessing yourself — free from doubt, apathy, or self-consciousness, all of which contribute to writer's block. Here’s how:

Find the right surroundings. Go somewhere you won't be disturbed.

Pick your writing utensils. Will you type at your computer, or write with pen and paper? (Tip: if you're prone to hitting the backspace button, you should freewrite the old-fashioned way!)

Settle on a time-limit. Your first time around, set your timer for just 10 minutes to get the feel for it. You can gradually increase this interval as you grow more comfortable with freewriting.

5. Relax on your first draft:

Many writers suffer form perfectionism, which is especially debilitating during a first draft

“Blocks often occur because writers put a lot of pressure on themselves to sound ‘right’ the first time. A good way to loosen up and have fun again in a draft is to give yourself permission to write imperfectly.” — editor Lauren Hughes

perfect is the enemy of good,” so don't agonize about getting it exactly right! You can always go back and edit, maybe even get a second pair of eyes on the manuscript

6. Don’t start at the beginning:

the most intimidating part of writing is the start, when you have a whole empty book to fill with coherent words

instead of starting with the chronological beginning of whatever it is you’re trying to write, dive into middle, or wherever you feel confident

7. Take a shower:

Have you ever noticed that the best ideas tend to arrive while in the shower, or while doing other “mindless” tasks?

research shows that when you’re doing something monotonous (such as showering, walking, or cleaning), your brain goes on autopilot, leaving your unconscious free to wander without logic-driven restrictions

showering is my favourite thing to do if I may add

8. Balance your inner critic:

successful writers have in common is the ability to hear their inner critic, respectfully acknowledge its points, and move forward

You don't need to completely ignore that critical voice, nor should you cower before it

you must establish a respectful, balanced relationship, so you can address what's necessary and skip over what's insecure and irrelevant

9. Switch up your tool:

a change of scenery can really help with writer's block. However, that scenery doesn't have to be your physical location — changing up your writing tool can be just as big a help!

if you’ve been typing on your word processor of choice, try switching to pen and paper. Or if you're just sick of Google Docs, consider using specialized novel writing software.

10. Change your POV:

great advice from editor Lauren Hughes: “When blocked, try to see your story from another perspective ‘in the room’ to help yourself move beyond the block. How might a minor character narrate the scene if they were witnessing it? A ‘fly on the wall’ or another inanimate object?

11. Exercise your creative muscles:

Any skill requires practice if you want to improve, and writing is no different! So if you’re feeling stuck, perhaps it’s time for a strengthening scribble-session to bolster your abilities

12. Map out your story:

If your story has stopped chugging along, help it pick up steam by taking a more structured approach — specifically, by writing an outline

13. Write something else:

Though it's important to try and push through writer's block with what you're actually working on, sometimes it's simply impossible

feel free to push your current piece to the side for now and write something new

14. Work on your characters:

It follows that if your characters are not clearly defined, you’re more likely to run into writer’s block

15. Stop writing for readers:

write for yourself, not your potential readers

this will help you reclaim the joy of being creative and get you back in touch with what matters: the story.

this is something I really need to do. because of my etsy business i don't write for fun anymore, but instead as a business and a deadline. i'm going to have to pull out my old crappy wattled fanfics or write some new ones.

16. Try a more visual process:

when words fail you, forget them and get visual. Create mind maps, drawings, Lego structures — ideally related to your story, but whatever unblocks your mind!

17. Look for the root of it:

writer’s block often comes from a problem deeper than simple “lack of inspiration.” So let's dig deep: why are you really blocked? Ask yourself the following questions:

Do I feel pressure to succeed and/or competition with other writers?

Have I lost sight of what my story is about, or interest in where it's going?

Do I lack confidence in my own abilities, even if I've written plenty before?

Have I not written for so long that I feel intimidated by the mere act?

Am I simply feeling tired and run-down?

once you identify what's wrong, it'll be so much easier to fix.

18. Quit the Internet:

If willpower isn’t your strong suit and your biggest challenge is staying focused, try a site blocker like Freedom or an app like Cold Turkey

19. Let the words find you:

meditate, go for a walk, take that shower

Word Palette is a great app that features a keyboard of random words, allowing you to simply click your way to your next masterpiece.

You can also try AI auto-completers like Talk to Transformer, where you can enter a phrase and let the app “guess what comes next.”

even though they often produce nonsense, it's a great way to help that writer's block.

20. Write like Hemingway:

And if your biggest block is your own self-doubt about your prose, Hemingway offers suggestions to improve your writing as you go

it's a pretty cool app if you ask me.

it highlights your sentences (if need be) and makes suggestions on how to improve them!

well, there you have it! a lengthy post on how to fight writer's block. now i just hope i can combat my own soon.

like, comment and reblog if you find this useful! feel free to reblog in instagram and tag me perpetualstories

Follow me on instagram and tumblr for more writing and grammar tips and more!

[meat--grindr]

Ohh your writing is wonderful... I’ve actually never requested before so I hope get this right but: could I request Billy Lenz x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB if it’s brought up) with Billy sucking on his partner’s fingers and discovering they are really, /really/ into it but also super embarrassed about it? Bastard-ness ensues. Hope this request is ok!

Okay? This is waaay more than okay! I’ve been so excited about this prompt since I received it! I’m so sorry for not getting to it earlier. I hope like six months later is better than never though! I’m also super excited to be your first request! I hope this lives up to your expectations, whatever they may have been!

Just a few general warnings beforehand: Billy is really rough with the reader he uses some extremely degrading language as per the canon (I’ve excluded the term ‘piggy,’ though, because I am NOT A FAN™ of that aspect of his dirty talk.) I want to specifically call to attention the liberal use of the terms ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt.’ The reader is never gendered with personal pronouns, but those words are used in reference to them and their anatomy several times. I am of the opinion that Mr. Lenz would use those terms regardless of what hole he’s using, but if they make you uncomfortable, maybe give this one a miss? Furthermore, I would like to mention that Billy is not a mentally well man (obviously) who has had a rather traumatic past with abuse, both of these are discussed within this fic, so please take care of yourselves and read this work responsibly if you want to read it at all. I don’t want anyone to be hurt by my writing because I didn’t warn them properly.

Also, this is my first time writing for Billy, so please forgive me if it takes a little while for me to get completely used to him. He’s a…unique fella, let’s say.

Editing Ripper’s Note: I was just about to post this when I realized I completely misread the prompt! I read it as the reader is really into sucking on Billy’s fingers, not the other way ‘round! I’ve been looking at this prompt, literally since December and still never caught on. I feel like a total idiot. I’m really sorry about that. I’ve decided to post this anyway because A) the kink is still there in the fic, just not exactly as requested, and B) I had already finished it by the time I noticed my mistake. So much time has passed and if the original requester is still keeping tabs on this blog, I don’t want to make them wait any longer. That being said, if you’d like me to write your request properly, please send me a message and I will do my best!

Mind Your Teeth – Billy Lenz (Gender Neutral* Reader) - NSFW

· Slick with sweat, your chest slides against the surface of your desk with each cruel snap of Billy’s hips. You can feel the laboured heaving of his chest against your back as he struggles for breath. It leaves his lips in ragged, staggering puffs, heavy and hot against your shoulder blade, accompanied every so often by the slick warmth of his saliva as it drips down onto your bare skin.

· Despite his gawky build, he manages to loom over you, folding you nearly in half against the desk. He’s made himself rather comfortable, sprawled over top of you. His chest presses against your back, boney ribs grinding against the knobs of your spine through the stiff, itchy fibers of his jumper. It’s sticking to your skin, soaked through in spots with sweat—yours and his—and you can feel it peeling up from your flesh with every movement he makes.

· He’s got you pinned, holding you down against the smooth wooden surface with little more than his weight. He’s surprisingly heavy, and though he doesn’t look it, Billy is a strong man—he’s more than capable both of lifting you off of the floor and pinning you down to it. He’s strong and his hands are by no means an exception to that rule. Though they may be long and thin, and they tremble whenever they hold you, his grip is nearly unbreakable. His clumsy fingers circle your wrists like iron fetters, dirty fingernails digging into the flesh of your forearms and cutting little crescents into the skin—just deep enough to sting. You can barely move beneath him—can barely breathe—and he knows this. He has you exactly where he wants you and you’re not going anywhere until he decides to let you.

· Another bruising thrust pitches you forward, and your knees bang against the desk drawers. You cry out, though whether it was for the dull ache in your legs or the sudden stab of pleasure between them, even you couldn’t say for certain. Though if there is any concern at all in Billy for your wellbeing, he’s certainly keeping it to himself. Your outburst only seems to egg him on, as his pace begins to take on a more frantic edge.

· His thrusts are shallow as he rocks into you—it’s as though he can’t bare to withdraw from the tight heat of your body for long. Dimly, through the fog of pleasure, you struggle to feel surprised. It’s all about instant gratification with Billy. Always has been—why should he tease himself or draw things out when he could just pry open your willing mouth and drag his cock against your tongue until he cums down your throat? Still, there is a force behind those thrusts—one which throws you up against the lip of the desk hard enough that you’re sure there will be a solid line of bruising along your midsection before the night is through. Every push of those hips shoves you forward a little more, until your head is nearly knocking against the wall and your toes barely touch the ground.

· Your cheek slides against a slick patch of wood and you realize you’ve been drooling across the desktop. The little puddle at the corner of your lips only grows in size as a particularly deep thrust from Billy wrings another string of wrecked whimpers from your throat. You wish you could pull away from the puddle—longing to drag the back of your hand across your cheek and wipe away the slickness, but there’s little you can do about it with Billy still holding your arms hostage. But at the same time, something about it thrills you—to be ruined like this—held still, unable to so anything but whimper, and drool, and take what you’re given. It’s…liberating.

· “C’mon, little bitch! Take my fat cock! You can t-t-take it better than that! Take it! Take-Take-Take it good for B-B-Billy!” He babbles into your shoulder, chapped lips scraping against your shoulder as he mouths at your flushed skin. His tongue flickers out, dragging a wet stripe against your skin, scorching hot, then suddenly too cool as it begins to dry in the open air.

· “Such a pretty pusssssy,” He slurs, “Pretty, pretty pusssssy. Gonna fill it up—gonna fill it with my fat ffffffucking cock!”

· You feel him jerk behind you, his muscles going taught as a violent spasm rolls through his body. When he speaks again, the voice that comes is not his own—it’s deeper, rumbling down in his chest, belonging to a man much larger than he, “Why I outta beat that boy! Beat him up good! Beat Billy bad! Beat him good! Beat him up, up, up!”

· His hips still and your heart leaps up into your throat, your pulse pounding hard in the tight space. This can’t be good. You squirm beneath him, trying and failing to turn your head. Your eyes roll wild in their sockets, desperate to get a good look at Billy, but he remains a shadow at the edge of your vision. You remember this voice. He had so many it was difficult to keep track of them sometimes—he’d mimic almost anything he heard; the children from down the road calling to one another while they played, the weatherman making predictions on the radio, even the neighbour’s cat. It was easy to forget which voices and phrases came from where once he’d picked them up and used them enough. But this is one that predates you, and you recognize it with a chilling clarity—the father’s voice: always angry, often violent.

· It frightens you when Billy uses it, though not because of the threat Billy poses to you. Of course, you know to tread carefully when he's in one of his moods—you’ve seen first hand the destruction wrought when his directionless frustration is given direction. But, you know this voice is a far more likely indicator that Billy is an imminent threat to himself. You’ve seen him pacing the floor like a caged animal, trembling hands beating about his head, tearing at his clothes and hair as he works through the frenzy, all the while babbling to himself in that deep, rumbling voice: “Rotten boy! Teach you a fucking lesson! Beat Billy! Bad Billy! Bad, Bad, Bad!” He's blackened his eyes, split his lips and knuckles, shattered countless plates and cut his hands on the shards. He loses himself in that voice, and that scares you.

· ‘Losing himself,’ that’s what you’ve come to call these episodes—those moments when his excitement and boundless energy curdle, souring into anxiety and agitation so quickly it makes you head spin. And in this moment, he’s displaying all the tell-tale sighs you’ve come to recognize—the full-body tremors, the angry voices, self-directed violence—mere threats or otherwise…

· No, this is not good. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him do this, and you’re sure it would not be the last, but he’s never done it while you were…playing before. And that worries you. You’re both vulnerable, half-undressed and bent over a desk. Even worse, he was behind you. You’d learned very quickly never to let him out of your sight when he got like this. He was unpredictable—prone to lashing out whether he meant to or not. But he wasn’t beyond helping. If you could just turn your head and look at him—make him see you, help him to ground himself like you practiced, you might be able to talk him down, or at least ease him through the worst of it. Maybe. If you could only get a look at him.

· You flounder for your voice and struggle to keep it steady once you find it, “Hey, B-Billy? Billy, baby, you’re okay, right?” It’s an innocent question you usually begin with when he gets like this. Sometimes he’s too worked up to even begin to answer you, sometimes he tries so damn hard to answer, but can’t—not in a way you could really understand anyhow—and sometimes you can talk it through with him. Every time you try, the reaction is different. You can only cross your fingers and pray for a positive outcome.

· This time, he coughs. It’s a horrible, a horrible, racking sound that echoes in his chest—it’s almost closer to a scream than anything else. Another spasm jitters through him, the joint in his neck snapping loud in the darkness. You feel his forehead collide with your shoulder once, twice, then he stills. His flesh is clammy against yours, and the gentle brush of his hair makes your skin prickle, but he seems calmer. He barks a laugh—his own this time—and nuzzles against your back, smearing your skin with sweat and saliva. “Fuck!” He says, as though that explains everything.

· “Billy? Are you…alright?”

· He chirps like bird, three short bursts of whistling he’d picked up last spring when a robin mad made a nest on your windowsill, “Right as rain, rain, rain!”

· You’re left with a heady rush of confusion and relief as you realize he must have pulled himself out of the hole he’d almost fallen into. A little flicker of pride sparks to life in your chest. He’s come so far.

· Your concern melts away once again into pleasure as Billy jerks his hips. Keening high in the back of his throat, he fucks himself deeper into you. He drags his cock out slow, sounding for all the world as though he’d forgotten just how good it felt to fuck you—as though he hadn’t been doing just that not sixty seconds ago. He scrapes his teeth against your shoulder, the promise of a bite that will surely come and mark you for days. His fingers flex around your wrists, blunt nails biting deeper into your flesh as he falls back into that brutal rhythm.

· Your legs begin to shake as Billy’s cock bumps up against something a bit more sensitive inside of you. Your breath fogs against the surface of the desk as it heaves from your lungs, a thin mist that barely has the time to fade before the next heavy puff of air replaces it. You find yourself struggling to swallow the moans Billy’s working so hard to pull from you. You know how much he likes to hear you—how wild it makes him—and you know there’s no real need to be quiet, not with the dorm cleared out for the long weekend. Still, something—be it a force of habit from living in close quarters with thin walls, or simply your own embarrassment—keeps you quiet.

· “Fiiiilthy whore!” A growl, caught low in his throat, tears through the air between you, “Pretty pussy! Want it full! My cock, my cum…gonna fill it full!” Never at a loss for a string of vulgarities, Billy mumbles against your skin, his words slurring into one another until you can barely decipher one though from the other.

· “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!” Billy jerks his hips forward, and for the first time this evening, you feel the full length of his cock stretching you out. You jerk beneath him, mewling into the desktop, squirming about as you try desperately to relax around him. You’re so full—so full you can barely breathe, but it feels so good. Your muscles contract around him, unbidden, throbbing with the sudden stretch. It makes him shudder and sigh above you, a wavering rush of air than hisses out between his teeth.

· He holds you there for a moment, trembling almost as much as you are, “Tight fffucking cunt, so fucking tiiight for Billy!” His hips stutter forward in time with his ragged breathing. Desperately, he tries to fuck himself deeper into you, even though he can’t—he’s already buried to the hilt, his hips tucked snugly against your ass. But he gives it the old college try anyhow. He begins to babble nonsensically against your neck, “Ruin it, ruin it! Never take another cock! Full, full, full! I left it in the kitchen, Jan! Not after Billy’s! A low pressure system moving in and—fuck you full, fuck you full, full, full!”

· The tops of his thighs quiver as he grinds into you, and as he shifts, the head of his cock presses against something. For a moment, your vision goes white. Your legs seem to fall away beneath you, your knees drifting south as the pleasure carries away their ability to hold you upright any longer. If it weren’t for the desk, you probably would have slid down into a boneless heap on the floor.

· You gasp, mouth gaping wide, pulling in a great, deep lungful of air. To call his name? To beg him for more? To put wordless voice to your pleasure? You aren’t sure. There is little room in your brain for thought beyond the need for more. Mercifully, Billy saves you from the struggle before you can waste too much energy on it.

· Almost as soon as he realizes your mouth is open, Billy shoves his fingers into your mouth. Two boney digits slide against your tongue, pressing and prodding against the slick muscle. The taste of dust and salt floods your mouth with the intrusion. You wrinkle your nose, and try to pull your head back, but Billy leans down into you, pressing you down further beneath his weight, grinding your ribs into the desktop.

· “No, no, no,” He chides, voice soft and light—almost cheerful. He spreads his fingers apart, rubbing over the hard bumps of your bottom teeth with a tenderness you rarely see in him. “Gotta make room,” His voice rumbles through you as he presses his lips against your flesh, “Gotta stretch it out for Billy, or he won’t fit!”

· He nuzzles his cheek against your shoulder, still rocking his hips into you, pressing against that spot that makes your brain fill with television static, “Billy’s gonna fuck your throat once he’s filled that pretty pussy!”

· Your lips are pulled taught as his fingers press against the walls of your mouth, testing its limits. “Soft and warm! Wanna fuck it! Fuck it deep!”

· His hips buck hard, shoving you another inch toward the wall. You can feel yourself drooling around his fingers—your saliva dripping down your chin in great rivulets and collecting beneath your cheek.

· His knuckles bump against the roof of your mouth as the pads of his fingers find the back of your tongue. You gag around them, struggling to breathe, but Billy just laughs and presses down harder.

· “Again,” His voice comes out in a ragged puff of breath, half-whisper, half-growl, rough as rock salt, “Pussy gets tight when it chokes.”

· You try to suck in a shocked breath, but you can’t manage it around his fingers. Your throat convulses around him as you struggle to breathe.

· You feel his cock pulse inside of you and he groans his pleasure long and low into the darkness, “Yesssss!”

· He rocks into you again, “No one fucks like Billy, huh?” He pulls back, his cock nearly slipping from your body entirely, then he slams his hips home again, “No one fucks you full like Billy can! No one! No one! No one!” The phrase becomes a litany, each sentence punctuated with a bruising snap of his hips. “Know why?” He drags his teeth along the edge of your shoulder blade, “Know why?” You can hear the grin in his voice, wide and sharp, “‘Cuz Billy fills you up from both ends!”

· You sob around Billy’s fingers, your eyes rolling back as he pushes them deeper into your mouth. If he keeps on like this, it won’t be long before you fall apart around him—you want to cum so desperately, you can hardly keep another thought in your brain. Your muscles clench up around him and he laughs, giggling to himself as he hooks his chin over your shoulder. He can feel how close you are.

· His tongue slides against the side of your face, leaving a thick, wet stripe across your cheekbone. His lips scratch rough against your jaw, “Pretty pussy’s gonna cum? Gonna cum all over Billy’s fat fucking cock? Yeah?” His simpering tone makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you nod. Another peal of sick laughter bubbles up in his throat, “You’re gonna cum and Billy’s not even trying! So dirty, dirty, dirty!”

· You whine around his fingers as he babbles on, “Billy could fuck you harder, but he doesn’t need to! Stupid, greedy pussy, silly fucking cunt can cum like this!” His teeth sink into your shoulder and the rest of his diatribe is lost to you. Even so, he continues to mumble filth against the skin caught between his teeth.

· The bite stings, bright and sharp, and you sob around him, clenching your jaw, your teeth digging into his fingers. Billy releases you with a hiss, dipping his head into the crook of your neck. You think for a moment you might have hurt him, but in mere seconds, he’s giggling to himself again. “Sharp, sharp teeth! No good. No, no good. Not for Billy’s cock. Gotta tear them out, make room for Billy!”

· Though you know the threat is mostly empty, the way Billy caresses your molars with the pad of his finger makes you a little nervous. You’re sure if he could get a good grip, he could easily ‘make room,’ and there was probably not much you could do to stop him. But he pulls his fingers back, retreating from the crushing press of your back teeth.

· He presses down against your tongue again, rubbing against the slick muscle fondly. “Need to practice! Greedy cunt needs to learn! Learn to suck Billy’s fat cock properly.” He snaps his hips, as though trying to remind you just how fat it really was—as though there was any change you could forget while it was rearranging your guts for you. “Gonna teach you to take it good!”

· Your eyes roll back at the thought. You can picture yourself kneeling under the desk, Billy draped over the chair, wild hair falling over his eyes as you try to take him all the way down to the base. He’d fuck your throat until your vision goes black, his fingers tangled deep in your hair, nails digging into your scalp. Your own fingers slide desperately between your thighs, chasing your release as he chases his own and god what you wouldn’t give to make the fantasy real—to feel the length of him in your mouth, the rough denim of his pants beneath your hands, the jerk and sting against your scalp as he tugs on your hair. Your cheeks hollow around Billy’s fingers, a pretty whine sitting high in the back of your throat.

· And Billy stops—stops moving, stops talking. He hovers above you, silent and still as a statue, barely breathing. A terrible moment of clarity washes over you and the embarrassment comes rolling in. There you were, still stretched out on Billy’s cock, barely moments away from an orgasm and you were already thinking about another? Were you really that desperate? Your cheeks burn hot against the cool wood of the desktop. Shame licks at the pit of your stomach—it wasn’t unlink Billy to think this way, he was always seeking the next shot of pleasure, but it wasn’t like you. As though it wasn’t bad enough to catch yourself thinking that way…for someone else to do it? It was mortifying…and maybe a little exciting too.

· Your stomach flips as Billy shifts behind you, the burgeoning stubble on his jaw scraping across your sensitive skin. Then you feel it, a smile spreading across his face—it’s a grin you’ve come to know well, all teeth and wide enough to make his jaw pop. Even without looking at him, you know you’re fucked.

· All at once, he lurches to life again, fucking his fingers hard into your mouth, in tandem with the harsh thrusts of his hips. A filthy string of gibberish falls from his lips as he pounds into you, “Greedy! Greedy cunt! Want it in your mouth too? Filthy, greedy fucking whore!”

· You whine, and choke, and sob around Billy’s fingers. Your face is wet with sweat, with spit, with tears, you can’t tell and at this point, you’re far beyond the point of caring. The world has narrowed to a single point between your legs as you teeter on the knife’s edge of your release. You rock your hips back against Billy, meeting his thrusts, desperate for more. You’re so, so close, and Billy can feel it too—the way you tighten around him spurring his pace from wild to frantic.

· His voice is broken, his words panted out between jagged breaths and garbled moans, “Gonna be good for Billy? Gonna cum?” His face is buried in the crook of your neck. He giggles against your flesh as he splits you open, slamming into you like it’s the last fuck he’ll ever have. “C’mon, take what Billy gives you! Take it, take it, t—ta—fuuuck!”

· Your hips stutter as your orgasm throbs through you. You scream around his fingers as you cum, your muscles clamping down around Billy so hard he almost has to stop moving, rolling his hips forward quick and shallow. His howl is lost in the sound of blood rushing in your ears, but you can feel it vibrating through his chest, and down into your back. Your fingers scrabble at the wood beneath you, desperate for something to latch onto—to keep you grounded here as the pleasure threatens to carry you away.

· You sob and slump limp against the desk, letting it bear the brunt of your weight. There’s just no strength left in your body anymore. Your hands and feet tingle with the lingering aftershocks of the adrenaline as you begin to come down from your high, and your breath comes hard, as though you’ve run a great distance. Billy’s hips continue to snap against yours, brutal and quick. You sob into his fingers, the as the relentless pleasure sparks through you, nearly painful to your sparking nerves.

· Slowly, as your ears stop ringing, you realize Billy is still talking, babbling away in several voices. “Like your pussy tight like this. Wanna fuck you full while you cum again and again and again and I told you, Jan, I left it in the kitchen! Make you soaked, keep you soaking wet, make you fucking cry! Where is that cat? Where’s that cat? Where’s the…WHERE’S THE BABY, BILLY?! AGNES? WHERE’S AGNES, BILLY?! Beat that kid! Teach him a lesson! BEAT HIM UP GOOD!”

· His left hand shoots up from your arm and wraps around your throat, fingers flexing around your windpipe, not quite squeezing, yet, but the pressure is far from comfortable.

· “T-T-Teach rotten old Billy a lesson.” A spike of fear shoots through you and you choke around his fingers. This seems to bring his mind back, at least in part, to the present, or at least confuse him enough to serve as a distraction—he makes a noise caught between two voices. The fear that courses through you lends new strength to your limbs as you reach up and claw at his fingers.

· As you attempt to pry him lose, his grip only tightens, fingers locking around your windpipe, “Teach that boy a FUCKING lesson!” The knobby joints of his fingers press hard against the pulse in your throat and you’re sure he can feel it hammering beneath your skin. He’s losing himself again, you’re sure.

· But again, this time was different. He hadn’t stopped fucking his cock into you like he had before, and he’d wavered for a moment, when you’d choked on him. There might be something else you could do to help him. Desperate to keep him here with you in the present moment, you flex your tongue against his fingers. His hips stutter and your heart skips a beat in turn. “Filthy fucking c-c-cunt…”

· You bob your head, hollowing your cheeks around his fingers again. C’mon, Billy!

· “F-Fuck!” It’s not quite his voice, but it’s close, perhaps a little higher, a little more strained than usual, but it’s close. “Where’s the baby, Billy? Where’s the…c-c-cat gone to now?” His fingers begin to relax around your throat, but you keep sucking on his fingers, wanting to make sure you’re well and truly out of the woods before you even think about stopping. If this is going to work, you’re going to make damn sure of it.

· “Fucking greedy little cunt!” You could have cried with relief at the sound of his voice—his real voice. You hum around his fingers, and he laughs, the sound low and rumbly, “Still so fucking eager.” His hips buck forward, pressing deep inside of you. It’s still too much, too soon, and you sob with the overstimulation. The sudden spike of pleasure punches the air from your lungs and shakes your legs from underneath you.

· Billy groans as you pulse around him. “You want Billy to cum? Wand Billy to fucking fill you?” You nod frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he grinds into that spot, filling your vision with white hot splotches of light.

· “Suck his cock, then,” he says, shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth again. He spreads them wide, nearly matching the girth of his cock where it fucks you open. Billy jitters behind you, chasing his release with quick, cruel thrusts. Impatient as always, he pushes digs his nail into the wall of your cheek, “Fucking suck Billy’s cock!”

· You jerk into motion as though startled from a deep sleep, pressing your head down against his fingers to take them as deep as you could. Your tongue laves against the digits, prodding gently against his scarred knuckles, playing in the space between them.

· Billy throws his head back, moaning to the ceiling long and loud, “Yessss! Good little pet! Pretty, pretty pet! His fingers stroke your throat as though he’s petting a cat, feeling it work up and down as you swallow around him. “Gooood pet! Suck Billy’s cock! Suck his cock! Su—NO!”

· Suddenly, he stops, his fingers stilling. For a moment, you think you’ve done something wrong. Had your teeth caught against him? Had you hurt him? Should you pull back and ask, or carry on? Before you can make a decision one way or another, Billy thrusts his fingers back into your throat, pressing them in as deep as he could. His knuckles bump against your back molars as you gag around him, trying desperately to breathe through your nose.

· “Lick Billy’s cunt,” For a moment, you’re still, confusion slicing through the pleasure. Billy tries to press his hand forward, his fingertips brushing against the back of your throat, “Lick it! Lick Billy’s cunt! Lick it! Lick it! Tongue his fffffucking clit!” You think about it for a moment, your exhausted, lust-fogged brain struggling to put two and two together, and then suddenly you think you understand. As gingerly as you can, while Billy continues to rock you forward over the desk, you press your tongue against the soft spot between his knuckles.

· This must have been what he’d wanted because the sound he makes is like nothing you’ve ever heard before—a wail caught somewhere between human and animal. You’ve never heard a human sound like that before. Like so many things about Billy, it’s frightening, and yet it fascinates you, attracts you, arouses you. You press your tongue harder against that spot, and the frantic rocking of his hips picks up again—but this time there’s no rhythm to it. He’s close.

· “Fucking lick Billy’s clit, make him cum! Make him cum in your pretty pussy!” You lap at his flesh with quick, deliberate swipes of your tongue. He howls against your flesh, his forehead thudding against your shoulder heavy and hard. “Fuck, f-f-f-fuck, make Billy fucking cum! Billy’s gonna, he’s-he’s-he’s gonna—!”

· In the moment before he cums everything is calm. He stills, and his voice is soft and steady in your ear; “I’m going to ruin you.”

· Then the world falls back into chaos.

· His whole body shudders above you, a bag of jangling bones he couldn’t keep control of if his life had depended on it. His teeth fix themselves deep into your shoulder, slotting into the indentations they’d left not long before. You cry out around his fingers, sure he’s drawn blood this time. You can see it when you close your eyes, visions of thick red blood splattered against his dark incisors floating against the dark inside of your eyelids.

· He shudders, momentarily stilling, then kicking back into motion, seemingly unable to deicide if he’d rather pound you through his orgasm or remain still, buried to the hilt in your tight heat. You feel the heat of him inside of you pulsing against your walls as he cums. His cheek is pressed tight against your shoulder gibbering a collection nonsensical sounds and snatches of obscenities into your flesh, “Pretty pink cunt! ah, ahhhh, fuuh—fuuuh—fuck! Dripping now! Where did you leave it? Left it fucking dripping!"

· You’re sore beyond belief from the pounding you’ve taken, but there’s still a throbbing want underneath. He’d dragged you most of the way to a second orgasm, now all you needed was a little push. Before you were completely at is mercy, able only to receive the pleasure he decided to give you. But now, your hands were free and with them you could do as you pleased. You wriggle beneath him, slipping your hands down between your thighs.

· Your fingers find their prize, and you sob, your whole body jerking forward. Even though you’d cum mere moments ago, you can’t believe how sensitive you are. You’re on the verge of orgasm almost immediately. You press harder the slide of your fingers aided both Billy’s cum and your own. You shudder, whimpering around his fingers. Your muscles clamp down on him once again, throbbing and pulsing as your orgasm builds.

· He hooks his finger inside of your cheek and pulls, “Wanna cum again. Wanna cum in your mouth,” He pulls harder exposing the sides of your teeth, “Billy wants to feel them! Feel them on his cock! Sharp and hard.” He laughs, “But Billy likes it hard.” The harsh snap of his hips that follows has you seeing spots. He opens his mouth as though to gloat, as you clench around him, he loses his words. Whimpering, soft and broken sounds against your neck, he grinds into you.

· Seconds later, you clamp down around him, a second orgasm shooting through you. The sound he makes as you cum on his oversensitive cock is nothing short of feral. He bucks wildly into you, seeking more of a pleasure that sounds almost painful as he sobs into your shoulder. His cock pulses inside of you again, throbbing as he fucks his cum deeper inside of you, as though intent on giving you more.

· And you’re sure he would. Or he would have, if you hadn’t reached back and pushed against his shoulder. He was insatiable—he’d keep going for hours unless you stop him now.

· He pulls his fingers out first, a pearly string of saliva connecting your lips to his fingertips. You cough, scratchy and wet, but when you speak, there’s no pain. “I…I just need a little break, Bills. Okay?” Your chest is heaving as you struggle for air. Billy hums above you, hesitating for a moment. He’s reluctant to give up the tight heat of your body. But at last, after nearly a full minute of grumbling and mumbling to himself, he pulls out.

· There's a sticky gush of fluids against your thigh as his cum beings to leak out of you. You rest there for a moment, the pair of you breathing hard in the darkness, the comfortable weight of his body pressing down above you, the solid plane of the desktop below. Then all of a sudden, you’re being lifted up. You squeal in shock as your flipped about and placed atop the desk. The surface is still cool against your heated flesh. The difference in temperature is a shock to your system and goosebumps break out across your arms and legs.

· Before you have a moment to process what’s happening, Billy’s head is between your thighs, his tongue lapping at mess he’d made. Your eyes go wide, and you head knocks against a wall as it falls back, “Fuuuuck, Billy!” Your hips cant up against his face, thighs squeezing tight around his ears.

· “Pretty pussy came twice already,” You can feel him smirking against your inner thigh. “Still wants more? Greedy, greedy, greedy.” You catch a glimpse of his eyes, wide and wild, shining in the darkness beneath is tangled hair, “It’s okay, Billy likes you greedy.”

[the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo]

Fall Into You | Laszlo Kreizler x Reader

Alright my friends. Here is my latest piece of insanity.

It is completely raw and unedited. So, if there are a ton of mistakes, I apologize in advance.

What a whirlwind thing this was. I literally only planned to write the last little bit at the end, that was the entire premise and then 7000 more words came along with it.

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This is a partial crossover fic.

TFATWS | The Alienist | Dr. Strange | Loki | universe all mushed together in bits and pieces.

But mostly The Alienist.

Hopefully the characterizations feel okay. Dr. Kreizler and John Moore can be a bit tricky to write and I've never written them before. So, please bear with me on this.

Buckle up. It's going to be a doozy. Kinda.

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Word Count: 6,900 - ish

What happens when you wind up 124 years into the past and meet a relative of Baron Helmut Zemo's?

A lot.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was early evening and you were perched on one of Dr. Kreizler's fine couches, in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

You were waiting for Stevie to drop by and drag you to some musical street performance not terribly far from Dr. Kreizler's residence. Normally, you would have stayed hidden indoors, but you took a liking to the kid when you first met him, and decided you couldn't let him down.

Hopefully Stevie wouldn't drag you out too long, otherwise Dr. Kreizler would start to worry. Although, he would never outright admit to it, but it was the subtle things he did that indicated his concern. Or perhaps it was annoyance. That wouldn't surprise you either. You were loud and very talkative. He'd probably grateful to have to leave his house; so he can finally get some peace and quiet.

Dr. Kreizler always kept to himself and rarely made a display of his feelings to anyone, but you were a good friend of his in the short time you had come to know him. So, you got little peeks into what lay hidden away.

He was gracious enough to allow you stay in his home until you could figure out a way to get back to your own time. One minute you were talking to Wong inside Dr. Strange's sanctum in New York, and the next a portal opened up underneath you and you were falling.

After travelling through an empty void that seemed to go on forever, you finally exited through the other side, which landed you in front of a police precinct. You had looked around after picking yourself up and realized you were in quite the pickle. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was not your New York.

People were starting to stare at as you took in your surroundings. You initially thought it was because you had randomly fallen out of the sky, but realization had dawned on you; it was because of your clothing.

Ah, yes. You suppose compared to what all the other women were wearing, you were a sight to behold. Jeans, a forest green blouse, and short brown leather jacket, would draw some attention, when all the other women were dressed so conservatively in dresses. You laughed nervously backing away from the small crowd on the sidewalk. You calmly but quickly darted over to a newsie holding up a paper for sale.

You paid the kid a dollar and snatched the paper out of his hand. Not paying attention in the least to his shouts of joy on making so much off of one measly paper, but you were too focused on finding out what time period you were in.

You caught the date at the top of the newspaper: April 1st, 1897.

April Fool's Day.

Typical, something like this would happen to you. Joke's on them, as someone is going to have a hell of time trying to figure out where you went. You're quite sure Wong was trying to sort through what happened and had already calling Strange.

Well, you hope he had.

You put down the paper and tried to think of what to do, but a small crowd of people were still stopped and whispering to each other, pointing in your general direction.

One man was gesturing in your direction and started shouting, but not at you.

"Hey Kreizler, this one looks like a crazy. Should probably haul her off to Bellevue!"

You raised your eyebrow at the man, but didn't say anything, instead choosing to turn and see who he was yelling at.

A very well dressed man wearing a bowler hat was walking down the steps of the police precinct in a rushed sort of manner. He had a cane with him, and it appeared his right arm was tucked against his body as if protecting it. A few steps behind him there was another man darting to catch up with him, also well dressed and carrying what seemed to be a sketchbook.

The guy on the street had yelled at the gentleman in the bowler hat again, which you had assumed at this point was Dr. Kreizler. As the two men reached the bottom of the steps and were about to step into their carriage, the incessant yelling had managed to grab Kreizler's attention. At least it seemed so, because the man with the cane had paused and turned his attention towards the direction of the yelling.

You could see from his body language he wasn't all that interested, but when his eye-line landed on you, he backed away from getting inside.

The other gentleman that was accompanying him, the one with the sketchbook, said something to him, but Dr. Kreizler just waved him off as he started to walk over to you.

Great.

You look over to the rude gentleman that had now drawn even more attention to you and gave him an unappreciative stare.

You steeled yourself, ready for whatever this stranger was going to say to you, but your guard had dropped slightly upon getting a better look at his face.

No way.

This was not possible.

The man that had come over to you was the spitting image of one genius, criminal mastermind and general pain in your ass, you knew all too well. One who's currently locked up in The Raft.

If it wasn't for the beard, you'd swear you were looking at Baron Helmut Zemo.

As Dr. Kreizler stopped a few feet from you, he tilted his head to the side and eyed you warily, but not unkindly.

That head tilt, a family trait for sure. Zemo had to be some distant relative of this man in some way, there's no chance they aren't with how closely the two resemble each other. She'd have to make a trip to The Raft and ask him about it sometime, if she ever got back home.

"My dear, you seem out of sorts. Are you alright?" the man inquired, gazing at the small gathering of people and then back to you.

"I kinda stick out like a sore thumb, yeah?" You laughed as you answer his question, peering down at your outfit.

"Quite," he replied.

You saw while he may be cautious around you, you've seem to grab his interest with the scrutiny and intensity of his gaze.

"If I may introduce myself, my name is Doctor Laszlo Kreizler," the gentleman stated.

Ah, so this was indeed the man who was being called out from the street. You noticed he didn't extend his hand in greeting, but then again perhaps it wasn't a pertinent gesture for the time period either. So, you didn't take offense to it.

Your eyeline moved behind Dr. Kreizler and could see his friend at the carriage watching with interest, but also growing impatience.

You gave a kind smile as you introduced yourself and added, "Thank you for humoring the nosy man over there, but I'm not in need of a doctor. I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your day."

"Not in the least. And I may be a doctor, but I am an alienist more specifically," Kreizler explained.

Your eyebrows shot into your forehead and then contemplated his title. An alienist? Where had you heard that before? If you remembered correctly, an alienist was someone who assessed individuals for competence?

Oh.

The shouty man had mentioned Bellevue. Okay, now you understood.

"An alienist! That term is...." you paused trying to think of a better way to phrase you response. "The term is outdated where I'm from. Instead we simply acknowledge your specific doctorate profession as psychologists, since the very definition of what you do is to study the mind and behavior of individuals," you answered, satisfied with your explanation.

"Outdated. How intriguing. Perhaps we could continue this conversation away from prying eyes and gossipy busy-bodies?" Kreizler asked.

You wouldn't be able to read it on his face, but you can tell you've piqued his interest even more so now with his body language. And his eyes had this sparkle in them as you spoke of his profession so specifically.

Though you felt you could trust this man, you couldn't take the chance that he might, in fact, lure you into his carriage and ship you off to the nearest mental institution, such as Bellevue Hospital.

You'd be lying if you weren't equally intrigued by this enigma of a man standing before you. The resemblance to Baron Zemo was uncanny, and that alone made you want to find out more about him; however, Zemo was not to be trusted as far as you could throw him. Though he did have his moments. You'd give him some credit. Doesn't mean distrustful behavior runs in the family, but it also could. It was a difficult decision.

Your eyes narrowed assessing Dr. Kreizler as you came to decision.

"Shouldn't you give me a mental health assessment test before asking a complete stranger to travel off to who knows where with you? Why shouldn't I be suspicious you aren't going to drop me off at the nearest institute? No offense," you replied warily.

"Thank you!" the man with the sketchbook at the carriage shouted at both you and Dr. Kreizler, clearly in agreement with your answer.

You snickered at his sarcastic reply, but attempted to cover your ever growing smile by coughing.

The corner of Dr. Kreizler's mouth ticked up in a smile as well.

"No my dear, if anything you've just proven you're at least slightly more sane than my counterpart, Mr. John Moore," Dr. Kreizler shook his head and jutted his thumb behind him.

"Heard that Laszlo!" Moore responded with indignation.

"That was the point John," Dr. Kreizler answered back with dry wit.

Yeah, she liked him already.

"Shall we?" Kreizler turned slightly to gesture to his carriage.

You sighed internally. Why the hell not? You had nothing better to do and no idea what your next move should be trying to get home. Dr. Kreizler would no doubt be curious about your attire and that alone with most likely bring up a slew of never ending questions. You'd have to be careful how to explain your situation and make sure what you revealed was limited, but truthful. You wanted to tell him the truth about where you were from, but you needed to word it in a way that doesn't make you out to be a crazy person, but present the information with facts and evidence that Dr. Kreizler could not refute. Luckily you had some tech with you that could prove your point rather efficiently should the need arise you convince him of what time period you come from in the future. 124 years it a length period of time. It would be difficult for anyone to accept your explanation, but Dr. Kreizler seemed to be different. Let's hope you aren't wrong about him.

"I accept your offer Dr. Kreizler, thank you," you spoke kindly.

You were formally introduced to Mr. Moore and to Stevie before getting in the carriage. Mr. Moore seemed uneasy, but went along with Dr. Kreizler's acceptance of you. He was a trusting friend of his, you could tell right away. And something told you, Dr. Kreizler was a tough nut to crack and didn't seem to be the type of person who might have very many. Only a close few.

"What made you decide to take Dr. Kreizler up on his offer so quickly," Moore asked standing outside the carriage as Stevie was getting the horses ready.

Dr. Kreizler had held the door open for you and waited patiently.

You looked at Dr. Kreizler before turning back to Mr. Moore, "You mean besides his sparkling personality?" you winked and got in the carriage.

John leaned into Kreizler before adjusting his hold on his sketchbook and climbing into the carriage himself.

"Oh, well I like her already Laszlo," he grinned incessantly and gave Kreizler a clap on the back.

You saw Dr. Kreizler bend his head down in amused exasperation as a small huff of laughter sounded with the movement. He sighed somewhat dramatically before getting in the carriage and closing the door.

"You know, I've never actually ridden in one of these before," you say slightly awed.

Both Moore and Kreizler gave you confusing looks before Dr. Kreizler used his cane to tap on the rear enclosure signaling Stevie to head home.

Home. Well, this should be interesting indeed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You closed your book with a snap and slumped into the couch you were perched on. It had been six months, since that day. Six months, you've been trapped in this pocket of 1897.

You had reflected back on how well John and Dr. Kreizler had taken the explanation you were from the future. As you told your story, your only requirement was that they wait until the very end before asking any questions. That gave you the chance to be very methodical about how you explained the future and how it was you ended up in 1897, which to be fair, you don't know exactly how that portal opened still, but magic was involved to say the very least.

It was oddly reminiscent of when Loki used the space stone, which gave her pause. All the infinity stones had been destroyed, and yet you knew that there was an errant 2012 Loki running around the universe with one. It is plausible, he could factor into this, but how or why you, you have no idea.

After you had explained your fanatical circumstance, to help prove you weren't absolutely off your rocker and have Dr. Kreizler change his mind about you, you showed them your phone.

Yes, there may not be any service available, but you could still access all your photos and videos and holographic imagery, etc. That was what allowed John and Dr. Kreizler to accept your story; paired with your unique clothes; they had a surprisingly open mind. John had gaped like a fish for a good 10 minutes before Dr. Kreizler told him to get over it already. John was somewhat outraged that he wasn't more shocked by your existence. But like all things, Dr. Kreizler took everything in stride, which was quite a relief to you. He was incredibly understanding and offered a room in his home to you until you were able to get back to your own time. You made a promise to Dr. Kreizler that you would never lie to him, about anything. It was the least you could do since he opened up his home and essentially part of his life to you.

You understood why he was an expert in his field. His patience and intellect allowed him to be open-minded and grasp concepts others word merely scoff at. However, there was another side to that coin; he was also closed off, and could at times, be calculating and manipulative. Though, none of these traits were used in any nefarious manners, they were there all the same.

He reminded you of Zemo to be sure in this regard. Some personality traits apparently do get passed down through the generations. In some ways, after meeting Dr. Kreizler, you felt you knew Helmut Zemo a bit better. And somehow, you missed him. Not that you were ever particularly close to him, but the time you spent with him in Latvia with Sam and Bucky forever altered your opinion of him.

So while you've been living at Dr. Kreizler's residence, in your spare time, you had been working different avenues of how to achieve ways to get home. You couldn't just solely rely on your friends to get you out of this mess. So, while Dr. Kreizler was at work, you enlisted the help of Stevie to run down leads of potential scientist and gathering of general information of the time period to help you put together some sort of road map. None had turned out to be very promising.

You had, over time, gotten more acclimated to living in 1897, though you mostly refused to wear the clothing of the time period. John Moore would always comment about how you would draw attention in the public eye, should you dare to go out. But you refused to give in most of the time, saying that 1897 would just have to catch up to your fashion sense, and you weren't about to apologize for it. If you were going to be stuck here, you were going to be stuck here, comfortably. You fondly remember Dr. Kreizler's reaction. He seemed pleased, possibly proud of you in that moment. Probably because you had refused to conform to the times, and set your own rules to live by. Not giving in to anyone.

The question lingered, how exactly did you get away with living in this time without having to dress in the clothing of the period? Well, a friend of yours, Scott Lang, had gifted you a device that allowed you to chose one object to shrink and return to it's normal size. So, of course, since you traveled so often with the Sam, Bucky and the other Avengers, you chose your wardrobe. You were just thankful you had it on you already when you got dumped into that portal. So, essentially you had all your clothes with you, making things a bit easier.

Life was not fast paced here, which made things a bit difficult for you. You were used to always being on the go, another crisis to fight through, another area of the world that needed help. But here, here everything was, for the most part, quiet.

It drove you nuts sometimes. Made you antsy. You managed to weasel your way into helping John, Sara and Dr. Kreizler on one of their serial killer cases recently to pass the time. Dr. Kreizler was unhappy at first. You were able to prove your usefulness though with advanced techniques and theories on how to potentially catch the killer in question. Be that as it may, Dr. Kreizler still seemed grumpy, if that were the correct word to use, about you working on the case. You confronted him about it one evening, but he glossed over the whole thing. He was holding back, but what that was, you weren't sure. Maybe he still didn't fully trust you yet. It was a fair assumption, but he was always so hard to read. Though you've managed to get a few good laughs out of him from time to time. Those were the days that really made you smile. Seeing him happy, as most of the time he was always so guarded. It made you feel like you and Dr. Kreizler shared this little secret when no one else was around.

Dr. Kreizler let himself relax ever so slightly around you, but it was far and fleeting. On rare occasions. You savored all those memories and tucked them away. Everyone was so refined and conservative in their mannerisms. You missed just wanting to hug someone. You craved some sort of physical affection, and it was hard, realizing just how different the times were from the future. They weren't terrible by any means, but the social norms of the times had been trying on you, to say the very least. Dr. Kreizler, ever astute, had picked up on this.

He had been gracious enough to offer himself if you ever needed to hug someone. This had been roughly 4 months into your stay at Dr. Kreizler's. You both had gotten more comfortable around the other, and even had a routine of sorts. You had thanked him for his offer, and told him you would not abuse the privilege he had bestowed on you.

Something told her there was more to it, but you hadn't dwelled on it, you were simply appreciative of his friendship.

However more recently, it was more than just friendship you felt. You kept squashing your feelings down, telling yourself this was the worst possible time to develop feelings for someone. Especially someone like Dr. Kreizler. There would never be a happy ending. At some point, you would return home, and that would be that. But there was that nagging sensation in the back of your mind, reminding you, you might not ever get back home. You tried to reason to yourself that you were possibly transferring some of your fondness of Zemo to Dr. Kreizler because of how he reminds you of him. But then you were just lying to yourself. Dr. Kreizler was a person all on his own and one of a kind. You knew better, you were just fighting yourself tooth and nail to live in denial a bit longer.

Footsteps from the kitchen were headed in your direction knocking you out of your musings.

You twisted on the couch to see Dr. Kreizler had returned home from his institute.

"Dr. Kreizler! Good evening," you voiced into the low lit parlor room.

"Good evening to you as well, I trust your day was fruitful?" Dr. Kreizler inquired, coming to rest on the opposite end of the couch.

"It was, thank you. I was somewhat restless earlier, so I took it upon myself to work on the cryptogram the killer left his last victim, with the hopes of figuring out his next location before he strikes," you sheepishly stated.

Dr. Kreizler ruefully smiled at you and shook his head. At one time, he might have gotten upset, but he had been taking your antics more in stride, and you managed to be helpful providing much needed information. So, he'd act unhappy, but silently was thrilled.

"And did you uncover anything useful?" Kreizler queried, he got up from his seat and walked over to the chalk board.

"Not completely, I believe I've broken the code word and the book that the killer has been using to write his cryptograms, but I have yet to comb through all the evidence to gather the page numbers, line and word number to crack the full message. I planned on working on it when I got back with Stevie later this evening," you happily expressed while fidgeting with the watch on your wrist.

"Impressive work. And what book has our killer been using?" Kreizler asked, eyes still going over the work on the board.

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. You'd think we could have figured that one out sooner given our killer's eclectic methods of murdering people," you answered sarcastically.

Dr. Kreizler bent his knees in utter annoyance, "Of course it is. Of course. How ridiculous to have missed such an obvious choice."

You smiled knowingly. He was irritated he hadn't figured it out sooner.

A companionable silence continued for a few minutes after his outburst.

Dr. Kreizler was still staring at the board with mild interest when he spoke next, "May I ask you a personal question?"

You had just reached over to place the book on the coffee table next to you when he asked his question and you froze mid motion.

Dr. Kreizler generally didn't push too much into your personal life, so this was somewhat out of left field for him. Never-the-less, you recovered after a beat and placed the book on the table.

"Of-of course Dr. Kreizler. I told you I would always be truthful with you regarding anything. Please, go ahead," you answered, motioning for him to continue.

"Why do you always regard me as Dr. Kreizler and not by my first name?" he questioned softly, almost hesitantly.

This was not the question you thought he would ask. There were a million questions he could have chose, but it was this one he went with.

This really was personal.

You glanced down at your hands sitting in your lap as you pondered how to answer his questions. You could lie about it, and he'd be none the wiser, but it's not who you are. And you promised.

Dr. Kreizler went on to further express his inquiry with a bit more confidence, "You call John Moore by his first name and the same with Ms. Howard, including our other friends we work with, but not me. Why?"

You opened your mouth to answer him when the front door slammed open and Stevie came barging in.

"You ready?" he exclaimed loudly. Stevie was clearly excited at the prospect of showing off his musical talent. "Oh, excuse me Dr. Kreizler, I didn't realize you'd gotten home yet. Thought you were working late," Stevie took off his hat and looked sheepish as he apologized for the disruption in his home.

You sighed. This was your saving grace. You could probably make an excuse and make a run for it with Stevie. You mulled over what to do, battling with the decision.

"Hey Stevie. Nice to see you too! Go on outside, I'll be right there. I just need to put my coat on," you laugh at his enthusiasm.

He nodded at you and dashed back down the hallway and out the door. You could hear one last shout as he exited, "Okay, but don't be too long, we're going to be late!"

Dr. Kreizler gave a look of displeasure at Stevie's unrefined outburst, but didn't say anything as he knows his antics all too well from over the years.

You stood up grabbing Dr. Kreizler's attention.

"Walk me to the door?" you ask, jutting your head in the direction of where your coat hangs.

"Do you plan on providing me with an answer?" he kindly jabbed as he nodded his agreement to follow you out.

You outwardly sighed, trying to figure out how to best answer his question. As you both walked to the front door, you start to answer him.

"Okay, so I address you as Dr. Kreizler 33% of the time, because you deserve the respect that comes with that title. You went to school for many years, and you earned it. So, it's only fair to address you as such," you tell him confidently.

A completely reasonable and partial explanation, you thought.

You both reached the front door, and you grabbed your jacket. Dr. Kreizler, the gentleman that he is, assisted you in putting your coat on. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, making sure you looked okay before heading out.

You caught Dr. Kreizler staring at you in the mirror as you adjusted a stray hair that had fallen onto your face.

"You look lovely," he quietly voiced.

You turned to face him as he had opened the door for you and stepped outside.

"Thank you," you said, a bit bashful by his sudden compliment.

His expression had gotten softer and his eyes were glowing in the evening lit night.

Your resolve was crumbling even more so now.

"And the other 67%?" Kreizler softly spoke, head cocked to the side.

"Hey - Miss! We need to be going!" Stevie cried.

You turned to Stevie and hollered, "One mo, Stevie! Don't lose your head!"

"I'm sorry I have to go otherwise Stevie is going to have a coronary," you apologized to Dr. Kreizler.

You walked down a few steps, but stopped. You couldn't not answer him.

You go up a step but not completely back to where you where standing in front of Dr. Kreizler. You inhaled a deep breath and exhaled before continuing, looking up to see Dr. Kreizler eyeing you with slight confusion and anticipation with your hesitance to answer his question in full.

"And the other 67% of the time, I call you Dr. Kreizler because..because," you drifted off closing your eyes. You open them again with quiet resolve shining through, finding your confidence. You take another step up to now stand just a foot away from where Dr. Kreizler was.

"Because, I love you Laszlo. And I use your professional title as a barrier, to - to remind myself I have boundaries. It's just easier to separate you this way or well, to keep myself living in denial," you quietly and defeatedly said, laying it all out for him.

You wanted to open your mouth to say something else to him, to let him know it was okay he didn't feel the same way, but you could never quite form the words that needed to come out.

The shock was written clearly on his face. You had completely gob-smacked this man. His eyes had widened considerably and his jaw had gone slack from your answer.

But he never said anything back. You weren't expecting him to.

So instead, you did what you did best. Ran.

"You've got your answer. I-I really have to go now, I'll see you later," you stuttered out, suddenly drained from your revelation.

You took one last glance at Dr. Kreizler before making a mad dash for it with Stevie.

You were gone before Dr. Kreizler recovered from what just happened. And you never got to see the expression on his face after.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[revenge-of-the-shit]

Racism, antisemitism, and anti-Jedi sentiment in Star Wars (Part 1/4)

via @shadowaccio6181 (submitted to me through an ask - the bolded stuff is what I have bolded from their submission!):

I wanted to take a leap and point some stuff out, I guess? Namely, racism and antisemitism in relation to fandom views on the Jedi. I'm not the most eloquent, and this isn’t the most polished, but I hope I can convey my thoughts to you clearly enough! (I also hope this makes sense.

Many anti-Jedi sentiments misrepresent things and take events out of context -- sometimes directly contradicting canon. Furthermore, a lot of the rhetoric has parallels with racist stereotypes and anti-semitic motifs (and these are just what I've found -- there's probably more). I wasn’t really comfortable trying to point them out without evidence I could refer to, but I think I’ve found enough sources listing out racist stereotypes—and anti-Jedi sentiments are common enough—that I wanted to put this out.

One of the first, which I notice a lot, is people saying that Mace Windu is angry, aggressive, unsympathetic, a criminal, etcetera, and therefore deserved to die. It’s usually in regards to Palpatine, and this misrepresents the movies, where he gave Palpatine multiple chances to surrender (at the very least, it’s pretty clear that his decision to kill Palpatine wasn’t impulsive or out of anger). Furthermore, he is commonly depicted in canon as rational, gentle, and kind — in TCW, he’s shown being exceptionally patient with Jar-Jar, among other examples. Therefore, this is not only a mischaracterization, but given the historical stereotype that is the “black brute” caricature (some references: 1, 2), it’s racist.

Commentary from me, Annessarose: yes, I absolutely agree. Much of the fandom hatred revolving around Mace Windu is suspicious, to say the least, and many of the arguments revolving around him often exaggerate his behaviours or cherry-pick them to take it out of context to portray him in an unreasonable and angry light. There are entire episodes that center around Mace and his compassion and strength and desire to do good (e.g. Liberty on Ryloth, The Zillo Beast, The Disappeared Parts 1 & 2).

That isn't to say that he isn't a flawed character. The way he spoke to Ahsoka after her trial was... not the best way to handle it. But for the love of god, let POC characters have flaws without catapulting them straight to the "they're 100% evil and deserved to die" end. The way fandom treats him with these flaws also mirrors how people treat POC in real life - the moment there's a single mistake or a flaw, any flaw at all, people will use it as an excuse to villify and demonize POC (and thus use it as an excuse for their racism). Mace Windu is a character who is good, who is kind, and who sticks to his principles, and the way he's hated on definitely points to an underlying issue of racism within the fandom.

"Another thing that we really can’t ignore about the Jedi is that they were intended as a parallel to Jewish people — the Jedi are a small cultural group (with some religiosity), the Empire is very clearly a parallel to the Nazis, and the Empire was very focused in hunting down and killing Jedi, specifically, amongst the the other atrocities they committed. To drive the point in further, there are at least a few Jedi with very Jewish names.

Common anti-semitic motifs include lack of national loyalty, global conspiracy, Jewish control, money and criminality, and the deicide myth. I’ll take some quotes directly from these sources (1, 2, 3, 4):

Lack of National Loyalty: “Jews are often subject to claims that they conspire to shape public policy for Jewish interests, or that their patriotism is less than that of other citizens.”

Global Conspiracy/Jewish Control: “In its standard modern formulation, the Jews or Zionists form a powerful, secret, global cabal that manipulates governmental institutions, banks, the media, and other institutions for malevolent purposes, undermining decent values. The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a fraudulent document purporting to record a Jewish plan for world domination, has influenced countless ideas about supposed Jewish global conspiracies including, notably, ideas contained within the Hamas Charter. For example, these writings accuse the Jewish people of starting all modern wars. The myth of global Jewish conspiracy has echoes in contemporary opinions about the putative over-representation of Jewish people in various business sectors. This can be seen, for example, in representations of Jewish control over government, the media, academia, and financial institutions, especially when phrased in terms of a ‘Jewish lobby.’”

Money and Criminality: “Since medieval times, Jewry has frequently been depicted as a wealthy, powerful, menacing and controlling collectivity.” “Claims of Jewish control of and fascination with finances are as old as the New Testament, in which Jews are occasionally portrayed as moneychangers engaged in unholy practice at the Temple in Jerusalem. This continued into the medieval period, when Christians were forbidden from lending money at interest, leaving the field open to others. Since Jews were severely restricted from entering most trades and from owning agricultural land, some began to lend money. Since then, Jews have been depicted as wealthy, powerful and menacing.”

Jewish Deicide Myth: “From the early years of the Christian church, Jews have been condemned for rejecting the teachings of Jesus despite knowledge of his words and proximity to his presence. Worse, some Christians have condemned Jews for slaying the Christian messiah and have held Jews collectively responsible for this action. This view is associated with related doctrines such as the notion that Jews are sustained in a wretched condition in order to bear witness to the moral superiority of Christianity and to foreshadow the final triumph of Christianity at the end of days.”

Commentary from Annessarose: you're right. You're absolutely right. Thank you so much for researching this, and for writing about this. With the sources you've provided, it is extremely obvious how there's a fuck ton of anti-Semitic sentiment in the anti-Jedi hate.

So, I'd also like to add links from a couple of Jewish Fans who have spoken about antisemitism in Star Wars:

Watto, Toydarians, and antisemitism (would also like to add that there are a lot of articles on google that talk about this)

Antisemitism in the design of Clone Wars (2003) and The Clone Wars (2008)

This is part 1 of this ask!

[Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4]

[straight4joekeery]

Teach Me How To Love In Your Own Lyrics

(Part four)

Prev. Part one

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

“Steve, STEVE”

“What? What’s wrong?” He panicked. Oh. Oh no. He’s back. But there’s no way. Surely after 7 years he couldn-

“It’s 10 o’clock!”

Oh. “Huh?”

“It is TEN and I have to be at the airport by ELEVEN!! We over slept!”

“Shi-” he wasn’t gonna hear the end of this one.

“HURRY GET UP, LETS GO!!” Steve hopped out of Eddie’s bed without any delay.“We stayed up ‘PARTYING’,” he air quotes, “out of all things” Steve grabbed a few bags that he was sure Eddie needed and set them in the living room. “We’re gonna be late I knew it. I’m gonna miss my flight. I can’t go on tour. Oh my god I can’t go on-“

“Eddie it’s fine. I promise. We will make it and you will survive. Just go put these in my car.” He handed him some luggage and sent him on his way. He threw on some ‘airport appropriate clothes’ and fixed his already perfect hair. He grabbed the remaining bags locked the doors and ran so fast you would have thought a serial killer was chasing him. Eddie ran to take the bags so Steve could start the car. He still had the same exact stupid red Beamer. (Hey, it still ran fine so no complaints here.) Eddie jumped in the car before yelling at Steve to go. “Okay! Okay! Who’s house first?”

“I had a really strong feeling that this was going to happen,” nice going Steve, “so I told them to all go to Jeff’s.” Perfect only one stop. The airport was only about 20 minutes away so they should be fine. People in Hawkins don’t really have lives outside of work so the roads were empty. So Steve sped. What? It was only like 42 miles over the speed limit.

Eddie was visibly nervous. He was shaking really badly and you’d think he was trying to pry his nails off with his teeth. “Hey,” Steve placed his hand on Eddie’s leg to try to get him to calm down, “it’s going to be alright. On the bright side at least we woke up before eleven.” It made Eddie smile a bit so he’d mark that as a ‘you rule’.

“Thanks Steve,” Eddie grinned, “if we don’t make it you’ll drive us to cali right?” He joked. Steve didn’t know that though.

“Probably, when’s your first concert? Would we make it in time? That’s like a 3 day drive right,” you could see the gears turning to try to figure out the distance.

“Steve I was kidding,” oh, “you’d actually do that though?”

“For you? Of course I would,” he’d drive across the world for Eddie actually, but he’d never admit that. He smiled looking Eddie’s way. Oh no. He just realized he hadn’t taken his hand away yet. He removed it quickly. But not to quickly. That would probably make it even weirder. Eddie probably hated him now. When he comes back from tour he probably won’t talk to him. What? Why is he so worried about this? It’s even weirder that he freaking out. I mean, it’s just bros doing bro things. I mean after all they’re just friends. Right?

“It’s this street right here,” Eddie pointed at a street sign, snapping him out of his thoughts. It read, “Shirley road.”

“Okay,” Steve turned. He saw his band mates waiting out side and pulled up to them. He got out and took their bags.

“Thank god!” Jeff yelled

“We thought you’d never come!” Freddie said while he shoved his suitcase in Steve’s arms. Gareth just gave him a death glare as he handed Steve his stuff. Sometimes Gareth can be scary absolutely horrifying. Steve saw his face and checked his own pulse to make sure Gareth didn’t just explode him with his mind or something. They all jumped in the car simultaneously yelling at Steve and Eddie.

“I’m sorry!!” Eddie yelped, “you realize this tour means as much to me as it does to you. Now just please be quiet,” Eddie paused, “and hey why don’t you thank Steve for being so so generous and driving us?” Oh. That was… sweet? He obviously started blushing like a schoolgirl.

“Sorry,” Freddie mumbled

“Sorry Steve,” Jeff said. Jeff was the nicest one out of the three, so you could tell he meant it. Gareth said nothing. He however would not say anything about because he would 100% be murdered in his sleep.

“It’s no problem at all,” he smiled at Eddie. Eddie tried to smile back but he’s so stressed again he kinda forgot how. Of course this sends Steve into another spiral. He’s still mad at him isn’t he? Oh my god Steve you’re so stupid. He grips onto the steering wheel until in knuckles go white.

They spent the next 10 minutes of the ride in silence besides the tape that Eddie put in before they left.

“Sooo, how’s everyone feeling?” Steve said to break the silence. Freddie and Jeff agreed they were both super excited. Gareth… still wasn’t speaking.

“Honestly? I’m terrified.” Eddie said with another fake smile.

“Why? You guys are great.”

“It’s not that I think we’re gonna do bad! I know we’re going to be amazing! I don’t know. 3 months is kinda a long time,” he sighed loudly, “I get like horribly homesick,” he frowned.

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t want him to be sad, he had to cheer him up at least a little, “did I tell you literally all of my students love you guys? James is going to your concert.”

“James? The one that you said like never speaks?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “was very passionate about you. Almost passed out when I said you guys went to Hawkins high.” And… oh thank the lords above who have blessed him on this fine evening (morning? He didn’t even know anymore.) This not only made Eddie smile but also Gareth. Steve might live to see another day after all!! “We made it!” Steve says as they pulled into the airport. He checked the time and, 11:10 they can’t easily make it (because they are so so cool and famous and are practically Royalty) but they have to run. Thankfully, tsa doesn’t take hours here.

“Okay rockstars! Let’s goooo!” Gareth spoke for the first time. They all scrambled out of the Beamer and ran to the trunk. Steve popped it open and grabbed a handful of random luggage. There was… a lot, all instruments considered. Once everything was out they all ran. Steve walked with them as far as he could without a ticket.

“Hey man, sorry for being… rude?” Gareth said putting his bag on the luggage belt.

Steve laughed, “it’s fine. I’d be mad at me too.” Gareth actually smiled at him. Oh thank the heavens above he doesn’t hate him. “And uh.. good luck. You’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks dude,” he said as he was walking away.

“Hey,” said Eddie from behind

“Hi.”

Eddie took a long deep breath before walking up to Steve and wrapping his arms around his neck. “I’m gonna miss you. Like a lot.”

“Yeah? Me too. A lot,” he laughed as he wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist. Although neither would ever admit it, they were both crying.

“Okay I have to go or I’m gonna be late,” he backed up. He sniffled and wiped his tears away, “see you in… three months,” he said rolling his eyes.

“Three months,” he sighed, “bye Eds.” He pulled him in for one last hug. (What? It’s not weird. They are friends. And plus he’s leaving for THREE MONTHS.)

“Bye Stevie,” they stayed like that for a while until Gareth yelled at them, “Okay now I really have to go,” he laughed. They said goodbye one last time before Eddie ran. He turned around before walking up to tsa to wave. Steve waved back.

He had to go. He ran back to that stupid car and opened the stupid door. He sat down in the stupid seat and closed the door. He stared to cry. He cried his stupid eyes out until he couldn’t breathe.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself. This is the first time Steve had actually cried since he was eight. Why? Why was he doing this?

He remembered back to his dads words, “kid quit your crying!” He yelled, “crying is for emotional sissies who will never be able to care for themselves. You will get nowhere from crying. It won’t magically make your problems away!” God he hated him. But he was right. Crying wasn’t going to make Eddie come back. He felt so pointless without him. He was his other half since the day Robin left. He missed her. If she was here she would tell him that everything was going to be okay.

This was so stupid. Steve was so stupid. He was crying for nothing. Speaking of, why on earth was he crying. He didn’t cry when Robin left permanently, why is he crying now. He thinks. And thinks. Thinks about how they are different. They aren’t? Because remember Steve and Eddie are JUST friends. Steve cried more at the stupid thought. Why? Why is this hurting him? It’s not like he wants them to be more then friends. (Right?) That’s weird. Plus Eddie isn’t gay.

“YOUR’E SO STUPID,” he yells to the top of his stupid lungs. He has to remind himself that they are just friends again. Plus he Eddie wouldn’t want that. Because it’s the truth. The stupid stupid truth. Right?

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

Next

MWAHHAHAHHA. FEAST MY CHILDREN. Im so evil. My goal is making at least 2 people cry. If you didn’t? Don’t fret! There’s still more 😉. Anyways. This one’s pretty goooooddd. Part count is still 9 or 10. So so sad for little baby Steve. Anywayssssss comment or reblog if you want to be tagged! I will say I hope you enjoyed but if you did you’re a psychopath 😘. Also lmk if I made any mistakes I only read over this once. Also don’t come at me for the airport anatomy. I haven’t been in one in a year and it was also 5 in the morning so I was very much not awake.

I’m also really sorry if you asked to be tagged and didn’t get tagged, tumblr is like not letting me tag a good portion of my people. if you are not able to be tagged I will message you! Let me know if you don’t want me to do that if this happens. (Also make sure you have your tags on!)

Tag list: @idea-less-author @queerbeansworld @asbealthgn @vecnuthy @jehneeg @steve-themom-harrington @bird-with-pencils @artiststarme @piningapple @lfaewrites @azreadytodie @thequeenrainacorn @pastel-dreamscape @importanttimemachinenerd @swagaliciousmarie @mightbeasleep @krazyperson @milkshakeflower @fando-random @bumblebeecuttlefishes @swimmingbirdrunningrock

Also it’s so annoying that I only get 30 tags. That’s where I truly express myself :(

[where-fantasy-meets-reality]

A Twist of Fate

(GIF not mine) 

W/C: 2.1K

Warnings: Fluffy overload  

A/N: So, this is my first ever posting any kind of writing. I have written before but I have never had the courage to post anything. But, @mrskenobi19​ and some other friends gave me the courage to put this out there. I own nothing, I was just having fun. Hope you all enjoy 😃

----------

“....Ugh, crap….”

The rain was now coming down in a heavy downpour, like someone had turned on a shower head with you standing under it, as you made your way through the slightly crowded city sidewalk. The dark sky rumbled as you noticed the clouds roll across it.

Most people had taken cover once the storm had started, but not you. Seeing as you had your umbrella with you, you decided to plow through it.

At the time that had seemed like a good idea, after all, that is why you took the umbrella with you when you looked at the forecast this morning; that is until the wind picked up.

Now the rain was actually flying at you. The bottom of your pants were soaking wet and the water dripped off your umbrella onto your hands, soaking the cuffs of your rain jacket. Your shoes were starting to make that squishy sound from trudging through the puddles on the sidewalk as you maneuvered your way through the crowd of people who had decided to brave the storm like you.

Why hadn’t you worn your rain boots again?

“...Because it wasn’t supposed to be this bad…..just a light rain the weatherman had said...”

You huffed frustratedly under your breath, answering your own question.

The wind was blowing your now damp hair across your face, making it even more challenging to see.

Trying to secure your umbrella tightly to you in a one handed grip, you used your other hand to now brush the hair that the wind kept blowing out of your face.

But just as you let go, a surge of wind came rolling behind you, threatening to knock you off your feet.

While you had managed to catch your balance, your umbrella had not fared so well. The strong gust of wind had blown it inside out.

“Prefect!” You hissed as you stood in the middle of the now empty sidewalk, fighting with the broken umbrella.

Whatever little part of you had been dry was now absolutely soaked. The rain was falling down through your hair, down your face, to your eyes, blurring your vision.

The faster you tried to fix the umbrella and be on your way, the more it seemed to jam.

And all of this for a cup of coffee.

You were so focused on your umbrella that you didn’t notice when the rain seemed to stop falling on you. Looking up, you realized there was a large umbrella covering you.

“Hello there.”

You looked up to notice that a man was now standing over you, as you were slightly crouched down, still trying to fix your umbrella.

His voice had a wonderful accent to it. English? Or was it Scottish? His thick auburn hair seemed to be blowing in the wind as much as yours had been despite its short length. His beard was neatly groomed. But his eyes, his eyes were really what caught your attention. They were the prettiest blue you had ever seen, almost like the blue of the ocean on a summer's day. They really stood out against the dark gray sky that framed him. His navy sweater and grey peacoat certainly helped enhance his looks.

You regretted wearing your sweatpants.

“I’m sorry, but I saw you struggling and I was wondering if I might be able to help?”

How long had you been staring at him? His soft smile and his head nod as he gestured toward your broken umbrella snapped you back to reality.

“Ah….Yeah….I think it’s broken, a huge gust of wind knocked it back and I can’t seem to fix it.”

His expression turned to a slight frown as his brows furrowed.

“...Oh dear….Well, that's dreadful...I’m terribly sorry…..”

Was he staring at you too? Your eyes had locked with his for a brief second and it seemed as if the whole world had stopped spinning. It didn’t matter that you were both standing in the middle of the city sidewalk in the pouring rain; there was only him.

“....Well, are you going somewhere close by? I’d be happy to escort you. I had originally approached, hoping I could be of service. But, if not then the least I could do is see that you get to your destination as dry as possible.”

“Who was this man?” You thought to yourself. How lucky could you be that not only was this stranger good looking, but that he was also kind and helpful.

For the first time, you smiled. “Are you sure, you don’t have to, I don’t want to impose on you.”

You really didn’t. Plus, you were only going three doors down from where you stood and it’s not like it would matter if you got any more wet than you already were.

His smile was warm and genuine. “It’s no trouble at all. In fact, I offered.” Extending his arm out toward you, his eyes seemed to speak more words to you than he did. “Where can I take you too?”

Sheepishly, you took his arm. “...It’s just a few doors down, I was originally heading to that cafe over there.” You point to the building with a red door.

His eyes closed momentarily as his mouth curled into a side smile. “Well….what a coincidence, I am too.”  

Sticking his umbrella into his elbow, he now held his free hand out toward you. “I’m Ben by the way.”

Chuckling, you shook his hand. “Y/N”

Starting the walk toward the cafe, you noticed that he made it a point to keep pace with you and make sure that you both were actually able to share the umbrella. Clearly your escort was a gentleman.

Approaching the red door, he unlinked arms with you, moved to the side and held it open. “After you my dear.”

Blushing with a smile, you didn’t say anything as you stepped over the threshold.

Why couldn’t you stop smiling?

As you heard the door close behind you, you turned to find him shaking his umbrella off on the carpet.

As the two of you approached the counter, you turned to him. “Allow me to buy you a coffee, as a thank you.”

He shook his head as he shrugged his shoulders. “No, that’s not necessary, I was glad to be a help.”

“I know, but I insist. It’s the least I can do.” You annunciated the word “I” as you echoed the phrase he had said to you on the street corner.

He chuckled, a deep throaty sound; and it made your stomach flutter. “Okay, okay….you win this round.”

You noticed he said “this round.” Would there be another “round”?....The more you looked at this stranger with kind eyes and a warm smile, you did find yourself hoping that there would be another “round.”

After placing the order, the two of you stood off to the side waiting.

“So….what brings you out to a cafe in the middle of a rain storm.”

His eyes seem to light up. “I had planned on meeting some friends here. Well, I say friends but they’re more like my younger brother and sister; I’ve known them both for ages.”

His eyes lingered on you as if he was memorizing your face. “....And how about you?”

You laughed nervously. “Sadly, I am just a coffee addict. I thought I could make it here and back in time before the rain got too bad.”

His playful smile caused you to mirror his expression. “Ah, I see.”

The sound of the barista calling your name out broke the bubble that you two seemed to think you were in.

Moving toward the counter, the two of you grabbed your respective coffees.

Now what? The two of you were looking awkwardly at one another. It was as if you two wanted to say so much but at the same time you both said nothing.

Your eyes darted to the floor nervously as you tried to think of something to say

The sound of him clearing his throat caused you to look back up at him expectantly.

“.....if you aren’t doing anything you’re more than welcome to join me. My friends are hardly ever on time for anything and I’d love some company while I wait.”

He turned to the side and pointed at one of the free tables under the large windows.

Your wide smile creeped over your face. “I’d like that….thank you.”

The two of you sat down at one of the tables he had originally pointed to, but not before he pulled your chair out for you.

It didn’t matter that you were absolutely drenched and uncomfortable in your clothes. Or that you had left the television on in your apartment thinking that you would only be gone for five minutes. You could only focus on Ben.

The conversation flowed easily between you two. He was a history teacher down at the local high school and you had always loved history. Additionally, the more you two talked, the more you seemed to have similar interests in all the same areas. How many other men had you met that could enthusiastically talk about the finer points of movie musicals with the same enthusiasm that they could talk about serious dramas? Food, music, books, current events...the topics were limitless. The man even went from quoting Shakespeare to Spider-Man in just two sentences.

All of it made you not only laugh, but your walls slowly came down for this charming and intelligent man. You had completely lost all track of time to the point where you hadn't noticed that it stopped raining.

“So, do you come here often?” You asked him.

“I do. I usually stop in on my way to or home from work….Sometimes both depending on how the day went.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I get that.”

The sound of his cell phone buzzing on the table caught both of your attention.

“I’m sorry, excuse me.” He said picking up the phone and reading the text.

“......Huh…..Typical….” He smiled as he shook his head slightly back and forth.

You gave him a raised eyebrow look, asking a silent question.

“Well….it seems Anakin and Ahsoka are so late that they would rather we catch up for dinner instead….” He chuckled as he put the phone down. “Why am I not surprised?” He said looking back at you.

You looked at your watch. Wait….what? Dinner?! How late was it? You looked out the window. When had it stopped raining? How enchanted by this stranger were you? You needed to move along before you bored him to death.

Brushing your hair behind your hair, you stood up. “Well I should probably get going, I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

Standing, he gave you another one of his infectious smiles. “It was a pleasure. I enjoyed your company very much. It was lovely to meet you Y/N.” He stuck out his hand once again for a handshake.

Smiling, you shook his hand. “It was lovely meeting you too Ben.”

As you turned and headed for the door you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach that you could possibly never see this charming and interesting stranger again. Before you had any idea of what you were actually doing, you stopped. Running with the surge of courage you had before you thought too much about it. Turning on your heel, you casually looked at him.

“Maybe you could lend me your umbrella again sometime?”

His glazed eyes that had been watching you walk away cleared as he blinked rapidly at you, taking your words in. The thoughts he had been lost in would never become a reality.

“I would like that very much.” He gave you that smile again.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him a thoughtful expression. “I wonder if it’s supposed to rain again tomorrow?”

The glee in his blue eyes was unmistakable as he understood your hidden question. “...You know, I believe it is….Around 3, actually I think the forecast said…”

“ 3’oclock huh…..well…..I may just have to bring my broken umbrella to get a coffee in hopes that a kind stranger helps me out again.”

“....Hmmmm that does sound like a twist of fate….perhaps I’ll have to stop in for a coffee myself after school, see if anyone needs help with their umbrellas…”

With a polite head nod, you slowly backed towards the door. “Enjoy the rest of your evening Ben.”

He raised his coffee towards you. “You as well Y/N.”

As you walked down the bustling sidewalk, the sunshine was now shining across your face, drying your damp clothing. You sighed happily as you replayed your afternoon with Ben. You really liked him. I mean, what wasn’t there to like? He was kind, polite, funny, charming…..and not to mention beautiful…...a twist of fate indeed.

Waiting till tomorrow at 3 would be practically impossible, but the prospect of seeing Ben again would make it all worth it.

[luminouspoes]

After Poe being tortured by Kylo Ren in TFA, he would have some kind of PTSD.... So I was thinking can you write about Poe having nightmares about that, and the reader comforting him? Just pure fluff

Warnings: some references to Poe’s torture/nightmares & PTSD 

It’s well past midnight when you shuffle into the shipyard, a sweater tucked around you and a toolkit hung around your hips. You couldn’t sleep, so you figure it would be a good time to get ahead on some of the repairs you needed to do tomorrow, which included some minor repairs on Poe’s newest ship.

He hadn’t crashed it or gotten it blown up yet, which you supposed was an improvement, the most damage his X-Wing sustained in his last mission was some blown fuses and carbon scoring. 

You’re surprised to already find a technician’s ladder rolled up against the hull of the ship when you arrive. You glance around, but find that the Resistance base is surprisingly quiet, save the sounds of wildlife emitting from Ajan Kloss’ jungles. You step up on the ladder and clamber up to the top, where you find Poe Dameron asleep in the cockpit.

His head is tilted back against the headrest like he fell asleep looking up at the stars - which he probably did - and while the sight is certainly endearing, he doesn’t seem to be sleeping well. His expression is screwed up and he’s fidgeting in his seat quite a bit. Worried, you rap your knuckles against the closed window to get his attention. It works - a little too well because Poe jolts upright abruptly and slams his head into the roof.

You wince apologetically as his eyes fall on you. His eyes soften around the corners, and he presses the switch to unlock the ship’s canopy as he runs a hand over his sore head. You push up on the canopy so you can rest your arms just on the edge, then you lean forward. “You’ve got to stop falling asleep out here, Dameron.”

“Well, at least I sleep,” Poe says defensively. “I’m not sure that you do, as many times as you keep finding me out here.”

“Insomnia is my best friend,” you retort wryly, stepping down the rungs when Poe goes to stand up. You hop down instead of taking the last couple of steps, then steady the ladder as Poe steps onto it. Instead of doing the civilized thing and walking down, Poe just grips the handlebars and slides down till his feet land on the soft grass beside you. 

“Which I’m sure has nothing to do with the amount of caf you inhale.”

You skirt around his crack about your caf addiction. “So what’s your excuse for sleeping in this thing and not - oh, I don’t know - your quarters?”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, instead, his dark brown eyes sweep back up to the canopy of stars above. “The stars calm me down.”

You sidle up closer to him, following his gaze. There are thousands of glittering stars, too many to take in all at once. You’re tempted to point out a few systems you think you recognize, but you remain quiet because looking up makes everything on the ground fall to the wayside, and you kind of want to embrace that.

“You’re still having nightmares?” You finally ask, sliding your gaze from the sky to the star standing beside you. There really is no other way to describe Poe, in your mind. He’s a bright light in the middle of all this darkness, with an irresistible gravitational pull that brings people together. 

“Yeah.” He admits, voice rough. His content expression slips to a pained one. “They were starting to go away, I don’t get why they’re so much worse recently.”

You step around in front of him, taking his face in your hands. “Trauma’s not a straight line, anything could have triggered them. A recent mission, the way someone phrased something, general anxiety -” you brush your thumb along his cheekbone where you can just barely make out the faint outline of a scar - “Which there’s plenty of, anymore.”

Poe hums in acknowledgment, catching your wrist and bringing your hands down. He doesn’t let go though, instead, he pinches the fabric of the sweater as he thinks. ��Outta all the things I’ve seen, I can’t believe I let that brute get to me most of all.”

You shake your head. “Nope, we’re not doing that.” You press a kiss to his nose, which he scrunches his face up at, ticklish. “You didn’t let him do anything, that’s not how this works.”

“How does this work, then?” Poe asks, sounding both genuinely curious and frustrated.

“It works by you not blaming yourself for your trauma.” You reply with ease. “You’re already doing well.”

“How so, doc?”

You tip backward and make a sweeping gesture towards the sky. “You found something to calm yourself down, enough to sleep by.”

“Not very well,” Poe admits as he rubs the back of his neck. “I was having another nightmare when you showed up, and besides...falling asleep in an X-Wing isn’t the most reliable way to catch up on sleep.”

You look down sheepishly, trying to muster up the courage to say what you're thinking. “You could, um, stay with me. If you want.” There's a leaf just by the toe of your boot with a fascinating set of bright orange veins that pop against the dull yellow of the leaf, so you stare at it as your question is met with a beat of silence.

“In your quarters?”

“No, in the X-Wing.” You retort sardonically. You fix Poe with a well, duh expression. “Yes, my quarters. I don't sleep well at night anyway, so you could...lay down and if I notice anything bothering you, I can wake you up.”

You entirely expect him to decline, but instead, he asks, “You wouldn't mind?”

“You're my friend, of course, I wouldn't mind.” You reply, cheeks warming. “Besides the Resistance needs its favorite commander well-rested.” 

“Are you sure it's the Resistance's favorite commander and not yours?” Poe asks with a tiny smile, and you swat at his arm. He dodges easily, catching your hand again, but this time he tugs you forward. You stumble against him, one hand landing on his chest as he looks down at you with a soft expression. 

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a warm embrace, his chin resting on the crown of your head. Despite your hammering heart, you melt instantly against him. Few people gave hugs like Poe Dameron did.

“Thank you.” He murmurs faintly as he moves his head to press a kiss to your hairline. 

“Always.” You say when he draws back. You extend your hand to him, wiggling your fingers slightly. Poe chuckles, takes your hand, and you lead him back to your quarters. 

You don't pass anyone on the way there, which is fine by you and by Poe too, you're sure, but by the time you're stepping into your room with Poe hanging sheepishly behind your heels, a wave of exhaustion has hit you. Still, you're true to your word, so you motion at the mattress. “Have at it,” you tell him as you move toward your desk. 

Poe doesn't even pull down the duvet, just toes off his shoes and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed like he's afraid he'll break it. “You sure about this? I don't like the idea of you staying up all night to make sure I sleep. Where'd we be if one of Rose's best techs were falling asleep on the job cos of me?”

“I told you, I'm not even tired -” you hide a yawn behind your hand and cough, but Poe's eyebrow shoots upward so you know you've been caught - “I mean, I'm tired, but not enough to sleep.”

Poe leans forward off the bed, grabbing you by the sleeve of your sweater, and gently tugs you forward. You could hold your ground if you want, but you shuffle forward anyway, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. 

“You need your rest too, you know. I can always sleep on the floor or go back to my quarters.” 

“You're not sleeping on my floor.” You scoff, “And I think we've already established that you’re having trouble sleeping in your quarters.”

“The X-Wing is always available.” 

“Or we could just share the bed.” You don't mean to say it aloud - you don't think - but it slips out anyway. Part of you flounders, but it's overridden by your concern for his screwed up sleep schedule, so you continue on, “It's not like we haven't fallen asleep together before.”

Those times were different and you know it - falling asleep huddled together over datapads in the corner of the debriefing room was totally different than dozing off in the same bed.

Poe stands up and you start to think he’s going to leave, but instead, he gestures at the bed. “Pick your side.”

“Really?” You ask, moving to your favored side, closest to the wall. Unlike Poe, you yank the duvet down and snuggle in before patting the space next to you. He climbs on just as warily as before, feet kicked over the blanket.

“I figured there was a 50/50 shot of me finding you asleep outside my door if I tried to leave,” Poe says with a light smile and you whack him with one of the bed pillows. He isn’t wrong, you’re well-known around the base for your dedication to looking out for your friends, and that sounds...exactly like what you were planning to do if he wasn’t going to stick around.

He settles on the bed beside you, a low sigh escaping his lips as he stares up at the ceiling. You twist onto your side, propping your head up with your elbow. “Poe?”

He hums in response, not immediately taking his eyes off the ceiling. 

“It’s okay to be afraid, you know.” 

He turns his head to look down at you softly. “I know, I just...wish I wasn’t.”

You seek out his hand in the dark. As soon as you find it, you thread your fingers together. You wish none of this happened, it makes you angry when you think about it. “No one wants to be afraid, but it’s okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

“Everyone’s counting on me. Leia’s counting on me.” 

“You really think the General doesn’t have nightmares either?” You counter. His gaze flicks back up to meet yours. You shift again, scooting a little closer. “Rey’s mentioned having nightmares, so has Finn. Even Jess has them, you know that better than anyone. People are all counting on them, so what makes you so different?”

“I just...don’t wanna let her down.” He’s talking about Leia, you realize.

You shake your head. “Poe Dameron, that’s impossible. No one understands the General quite like you do.” You bump your knee against his side, “I’m pretty sure no one understands you quite like the General does.”

“I don’t know about that.” Poe chuckles and looks back up at the ceiling. “There’s this person who always seems to know what I’m thinking.”

“Oh? What are they like, then, have I met them?”

“Probably. They’re a technician. One of Rose’s best, actually. Chewed me up one side and down the other for strapping experimental tech onto Black One before it got destroyed. Usually drags me to bed when they find me out cold in an X-Wing.”

Your cheeks warm. “They sound like a handful.”

“They are,” Poe agrees and you resist the urge to swat him with a pillow. “Stubborn like you wouldn’t believe, strong sense of justice, has an even bigger heart and will do anything for the people they care about. They’re a damn good friend - even if they keep their room below freezing -” he emphasizes this last part by finally ducking under the blankets and you bark out a laugh.

“It’s not that cold.” 

“Oh, yes it is,” Poe argues with a shiver. You roll your eyes and settle back into your pillow as he settles on his side, his back to you.

After a long moment of silence, you say, “Hey, Poe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a damn good friend, too.”

You’re met with a sheepish laugh, and you cautiously throw an arm around his torso. He doesn’t react for a minute, but just as you’re about to pull away, he wraps his hand around yours and pulls it up to his chest. You smile and awkwardly move closer, burying your face in between his shoulder blades.

It doesn’t take long for his breathing to even out, but you stay up for a while longer to make sure he’s in a steady sleep, but for the first time all evening, he seems relaxed and peaceful, so you close your eyes and murmur against his shirt, “G’night, flyboy.” 

[rhaenyraisadyke]

Unhealthy Competition Transcript: 8/4/21

Heres the transcript on a google doc if thats easier!

W: What do we want?

R: Burgers!

W: When- When, when do we want the burgers?

R: When they're cooked because if we get them now wait they are actually cooked right now but it would be raw if we immediately gave them out to the customers which is why we DO cook our food.

W: Wh-a what are you on there! They are cooked! Look! Does that not look cooked?

R: I- I mean.. Ah it looks fine it looks fine

W: I’ve never tried one of our own burgers before

R: Oh yeah we should've done that before- a while ago

W: Leme do it lemme do it lemme do it lemme do it lemme do it leme do it right, I need to get hungry first

R: mhm

W: Let me just quickly slap a Wilburger in there, leme leme just

R: there we go

W: I’m gonna get hungry

R: Alright let's get hungry

W: Wooh wooh wooh, how’ve you been Ranboo?!

R: I’ve been doing good!

W: Have you been vibing?

R: I’ve been doing alright! Yeah! I had a good rest, I’ve had a good day

W: Mhm, mhm

R: So far you know i'm excited to get to working the nine to five, it's a dream.

W: Wait, I don’t make you work nine to five- you just have to work when we run out of burgers man. You’re free to do what you want, this is your- you’re working part time for wilburger- oh it's the horse! We need that

R: OH yeah we should probably, we should probably,

W: I want that horse, aye! Do you know what quackity’s horse is called? Okay I’m hungry now, I’m hungry now, are you ready for this?

R: okay, alright

W: Bread first, burger, mmmm Ranboo… we gotta to better than that

R: Oh, okay

W: Ranboo that's the best burger I’ve ever had

R: Nice!

W: But we gotta do better than that

R: Okay, then to volume two.

W: WE are taking down an entire nation with this burger van- oh sorry competing peacefully outside of this burger van, we can't have just the best burgers I've ever had- they have to be the best burgers anyones ever eaten in their entire lives

R: In any universe!

W: In any universe in any universe at all, at all. You’ve done a really good job of this I know I’ve already said that but yeah

R: Thank you thank you, yeah

W: this is fun, I like this little toy you’ve made, I like this, i'm a big fan

R: I like it too, thank you.

W: I’m a big fan of a lot of things we have done Ranboo. Do you remember they um, boom boy?

R: yeah.. I do remember that.

W: Yeah?

R: Yeah.. I hope it didn't I hope it didn't, it wasn't, hopefully it wasn't too much, I don’t think it was too much

W: Oh I thought it was great I thought it was great man, when you smashed the window and blew up the wall- I’d be pissed

R: Mhmm

W: And I bet that was the right stick it to the man that he needed

R: But, butm you, you wanted that for competition, for business and all that, right?

W:... yeah

R: Yeahhhh

W: Yeahh, hmm, Ranboo I think you’ve taken a side here which feels like a change for you. I’m not used to this, you’re mister not choosing a side you know?

R: Yeah, yeah, because when I looked back especially when- especially after, your talks about Lmanburg and everything I realised

W: Look back on what?

R: You know, when you looked back on like Lmanburg and everything

W: Oh like life and all that

R: Yeah I decided to take a look back on my life and everything and I realised that I mean I’ve been involved in things, but, I haven't really done anything, I haven't really done anything

W: What do you mean?

R: I haven't made anything like, I haven't really, I haven't really done much to alter history, now if you were to write a history book, I wouldn't really be that much you know…

W: Whatttt

R: Involved in it

W: I don’t think, I don’t know what you’ve done, I don't..

R: Exactly, that proves my point

W: But you don’t need to have an impact on the world Ranboo to matter you know? You don’t need to go out, you don’t need to build a fucking effile tower just to be, just to mean something.

R: Yeahh

W: Ranboo, Ranboo don’t get me wrong

R: Yeah

W: You’re talking to me here I think it could be that you, you know, are going out and doing stuff. Look at this bozo

R: What he's doing here?

W: I think it could be that you decided to go out and change you know change this, I think change things for the better.

R: You know it's -

W: Don’t don’t start go out and breaking windows and blowing up walls just because you,

R: Oh no I won’t probably not too much

W: Just because you want to make something

R: This is why I like our little, little burger shop, you know it's small but at least it's something, you know I’ve always I’ve always wanted to go and make something that's gonna outlive me a little bit so I think this, I think this is a good start to something.

W: Mhm mhm

R: It’s a nice little burger shop you know?

W: And man? Honestly, I’m proud of you bro. I know, I know I don't know you very well man and I haven't known you for very long but you’ve done a really good job here and tell you what tell you what?

R: Thank you

W: Have you ever seen the phrase “fruits of your labor”?

R: Yeees, I- I think! I think so

W: Shall we see the fruits of our labour? Cause Quackity, quackitys online

R: I mean

W: Quackitys online, Quackitys here man

R: Oh!

W: We can go, we can go and see and chat with him about what we did. By the way after you blew it up I know you didn't see but I gave him back all the materials because

R: That's good

W: I gave him back all the materials for the wall and I also, I also left him a diamond or two just to say like you know no hard feelings you know?

R: Mhm

W: That it was just for, just you know, to prove a point but um yeah Quackitys here, and I wanna see. Do you want to ride a horse? Here, get on the horse.

R: You want me to uh?

W: Yeah yeah, it's Quackity’s its quackitys horse just a disclaimer

R: It’s quackitys? Oh oh okay,

W: Normally when I come to the las nevadas sign as im not allowed in las nevadas, normally when I come to the las nevadas sign Quackity is the first one to come and tell me to fuck off so lets see, lets go up to the las nevadas sign.

R: Alright

W: Yeah man its half the fun of making something and doing cool things is that moment where um, where you get to see what everyone feels about it now that we are here I promise wait here, I promise you

R: Wait.. wait here? Okay

W: Just you wait… Ready?

R: Alright, i'm ready

W: Um um “boy las nevadas sure is big from up here” just hold on

R: Okay um okay

W: Just give it a second, maybe from this level, hmmm maybe if I take another step, ooh what's that?

R: Oh yeah OH do you remember the cookie outpost thing?

W: Yeah yeah the little thing you built with tubbo

R: Yeah so basically right he got really upset so then I- I tried to apologise and everything because we- there was a little bit of dispute with it but we honestly just decided to really just give up.

W: I mean he hasn't accepted it… look its all in there

R: He hasn't accepted it?

W: Yeah, it's all in there….

R: Oh he said he liked it at least…

W: Is- did I just lie? This guy, Ranboo I swear to god I feel like I understand him, how his brain works, how he how his mind go and then he just, just proves that he doesn't give a shit.

R: Yeahh

W: Which is why I can’t wait to show off what I’ve done, but he's just nowhere to be seen. So this cookie shop thing? What was your intention of it? How would how you don’t pick sides usually but what was your intention with it? When you built this?

R: To give out cookies to people

W: And that was it? And that was your be all and end all hah?

R: Yep

W: Right, well how did you feel about Tubbo doing what he did then?

R: Doing what he did… What do you mean?

W: Well he.. He I heard the stories man I heard about how it turned into more than what it was supposed to be you know?

R: Well I mean that's- he kind of goes above and beyond on a lot of things, you can’t really blame him into make it a castle. That's, that's just you know, you can’t be TOO careful. Especially when you know, he has all the right to be nervous about something going wrong, so no wonder he put all those defenses and everything.

W: Why would he have the right to be nervous?

R: I mean just a lot of things, a lot of bad things have happened to him that haven't really come from his actions

W: Oh so youre talking about.. oHHHH LOOK WHO'S HERE!

Q: Hellloooooo

W: Quackity!! It's lovely to see you man, it's been awhile. How have you been?

Q: How- how long have you guys been here for?

W: I-I just arrived you know I just- Quackity you think I would wait for you? You know you know I’m just a

R: Yeahh

Q: Well I didn't even notice you guys were here. I um have been busy with uh much more important things… so, but hey I mean it's great to see you guys it's really great to see you guys, Wilbur and Ranboo together this is uh

W: It’s good to see you man

Q: What's this?

W: Oh uh Ranboo was just looking after your horse that I um

R: Mhm!

W: That I took a little bit of a joyride, it's a good horse look at it, look how high it jumps man! You got a good horse man

Q: Yeahhh who told you that's my horse?

W: Well it was tied up in your nation

Q: haha no no that's not my horse you just got someones random horse, i think you should probably put it back, I have no idea whose it is That- this is really awkward Wilbur, you should, you should probably put it back

W: Let's go! Let's go dude. I wanted- I wanted to come and ask you a question.

Q: Yeah, yeah what's up?

W: So I don’t know if you saw this? Uh you can’t actually see it, but behind this we built a burger van quackity!

Q: Really???

W: Competition, competition

Q: You built a burger van? Is that what you’ve been up to wilbur?

W: Yeah yeah!

Q: You know all this time you’ve been settled next to me and this- this is uh your big ceration? A burger van?

W: Hey man

Q: Hahah,

W: Rome wasn't built in a day. Small steps

Q: That's true, that's true. Leme take a look. Can you order anything yet?

W: No no, wait lemme- actually let me cook you up something real quick

R: Oh yeah oh yeah, you'll love this

Q: I don’t know if i trust anything coming from you Wilbur, but I’ll I’ll, give it a shot i'll give it a shot

W: Doo doot doo quackity you are so nice to me doot doo doot you never bring up my past doot doo doot Here you go, one volume one wilburger. Take a bite of that!

Q: Volume one?

W: Take a bite! It’s like an NFT Quackity

Q: An NFT?

W: Yeah no one, no ones gonna be copying that!

Q: Why would I bite it if its an NFT, then if it goes away it wouldn’t be worth anything,

W: Exactly Quackity, you can keep hold of it OR you get a bit peckish, eat the bread anyway! The bread is not bad

Q: I’m not hungry, I’m not that hungry right now but hey, I’ll keep it with me

W: At least keep it to appreciate the value, it's my NFT, but Quackity anyway I did want to ask, you have a little restaurant in your town I saw, from a distance obviously.

Q: Do you guys want to take a look? I didn’t want to mention it as I felt like it would have been awkward given that you have your own restaurant- I have my own restaurant, that's the only thing that would make it a little awkward but, you know you brought me to your restaurant and I want to bring you to mine. Can, can I do that?

W: Yeah, yeah man I just want, I just wanted to say sorry if you notice if you notice a bit of superficial damage, I left you a little gift as well, afterwards I sure that's okay. It was Ranboo and I that did that to your restaurant actually.

Q: Yeah yeah I saw it in the signs you, you guys

W: Yeah Ranboo and I did it

Q: Yeah the signs no no

W: I just thought- it it was a little bit of a you could say a misclick

Q: It doesn't seem to be like a misclick. You said MY restaurant was wank

W: I did I did I forgot about the signs, I was talking more about the window- oh

Q: But its fine its fine actually and I actually want to take this moment to thank you guys actually because uh that little destruction you did made me realise that the non tinted glass it just wasn't a good fit for the restaurant so I went with the kind of you know neon look and oh oh yeah the explosion! Right, I uh thank you guys again I was just finishing up this fish tank.

(The fish tank has salmon in it)

This nice little fish tank in the restaurant I think it gives a nice little look, a nice touch you know a nice family touch so thank you guys- this made me realise this needed a little bit of work haha so I appreciate it. I appreciate it a lot um actually you know what?

W: what?

Q: You know what Wilbur? Your little game here whatever you did, it made me realise another thing, that my country needs a source of passive income, so I decided to assign a workforce to this restaurant, I decided to hire an employee…

W: YOU'RE FUCKING ME?? YOU'RE PISSING ME

T: Hello!!

Q: Haha! Hey Tubbo!

T: Hey

Q: Tubbo look who came to visit look who came to visit

W: Tubbo!! Man it's good to see you!

T: Hey man this is my new job!

W: Tubbo aww it's nice to see you here man, I thought you were with your, your little snowy town

T: Oh I decided that you know I needed you know a job somewhere to work

W: Tubbo… what the fuck?

Q: Ha ha yep!

W: Fuck tubbo! Why are you, why? Why? Why did you get employed at the restaurant?

T: Why well eh I mean you know? Job?

Q: Tubbo is an excellent employee

T: I- I didn’t know you guys did burgers! I didn't know…

W: I mean, I mean it's - I just dude I offered for you to come and work at my burger van, it was uh hh hh hhhh hugh I told you yesterday- I told you yesterday in the Lmanburg crater and said you should come and hang out and make burgers at my burger van and now your at another burger restaurant after turning down my burger restaurant. Quackity… What did you tell him? Quackity what did you tell him? What did you say man?

Q: Listen listen, I’m gonna tell you this right now, tubbo is one of the best employees I’ve ever had. Me and tubbo had a little talk and we realised he has really great aspirations in life, and he really wants to do a lot

W: mhm

Q: and I told tubbo I would offer him maybe one of the best jobs anyone can have

W: best job

Q: one of the only jobs in las nevadas- tubbo is actually not only an employee but he is managing this place

W: mhm mhmm

T: This is my establishment

Q: Yeah, yeah and tubbo, tubbo now owns it

(note ranboo now has a grass block and is holding it along with placing and picking it up and it pacing during all of this)

Q: Tubbo tubbo now manages this place and he cooks here and makes a great deal of economic prosperity as well for las nevadas uh you should try his food, you NEED to try his food he makes these burgers kind of NFTS wait what a coincidence, it's NTFS as well and he makes burgers, and I like to call it the tubburger

T: The tubburger joint.

Q: The funny thing is we called it the tubburger volume one as well! It's really weird haha our plates are the exact same

W: Shh shh shh, quackity… tubbo, are you? Are you aware we are in competition now? Like this, this, tubbo we have always been on the same side man, we have always been together… your head to head with me now

T: Well I don’t look at it like that, it's not like complicated competition.. .Competition is good for the consumers, it helps everyone!

Q: W- Wilbur you’re taking this a little too far man, I feel like

W: Wai-twait no no I am perfectly

Q: I think you’re taking it too far man!

W: I am perfectly happy with mr tubbo

Q: At the end of the day we are all friends

W: Where did you get the NFT idea from??! Where did ya get that idea from?

T: Fazeclan?

Q: Fazeclan

T: Fazeclan

Q: Fazeclan, wilbur listen I told you this once and I am gonna tell it to you again, thank you. Thank you for opening my eyes that whole renovation came to do because I’m assuming it was a kind of renovation it really made me realise it has more potential then I thought

W: MHmm

Q: And at the end of the day that's what we all need. That's what we need, we thrive, we thrive through competition…. Healthy competition you're gonna make your burgers better and i'm gonna make my whole restaurant better and with the help of seriously one of the greatest people I’ve met in a business like this

T: Aww thank you man

Q: of course, of course tubbo

W: So,

Q: Wilbur, don’t take it the wrong way

W: I- I’m not does it look like im-

Q: to be mad about it, it's good for us it's gonna be happy for everyone

W: I’m happy, I’m really happy for tubbo, I’m happy tubbo’s got a job

Q: Really?

W: Yeah, I’m happy for him. Tubbo you were telling me yesterday how you were, how you felt like you lacked direction, you lacked purpose

T: Yeah I finally have a goal

W: Bro!

Q: That's true

W: How could I be angry about that man?

R: Yeah… that's good

W: Just you know I was just wondering why you chose that over the burger van but I get it Quackity, Quackity is a hard man to refuse.

Q: Mhmm

W: And

Q: And tubbo, tubbo is just constantly looking for whats next whats gonna happen now, and me and tubbo we think alike, very much alike actually, and I don’t know if you remember this but me and tubbo, you remember lmanburg?

T: Yeah

Q: Me and Tubbo, Tubbo was president and I was vice president, this is like lmanburg all over again isn't it?

T: Well- I mean-

Q: This is all a working- work in progress

W: It’s giving me lmanburg vibes

Q: Mhm- sorry?

W: I said yes I agree its giving me Lmanburg vibes

Q: Yeahh. Well listen uh all i'm gonna say is wilbur we are doing our own thing, you guys are doing your own thing and be healthy competition and you know….

T: Well the best burgers win!

Q: Haha- there you go there you go tubbo I agree with that yes!

W: we- yeah Ranboo you agree with that may the best burgers- say it say it

R: yeah yeah, may the best burgers win… yep

W: Wilburger vs tuburger… match match partners against crime

T: Together!

R: No-t not crime we hate crime

Q: Tubbo tubbo you gotta try their burgers sometime

W: Well, well we gotta go we gotta go

T: oh?

R: Yeahh yeah

W: It was lovely, it was lovely hanging out with you guys I - I am just thrilled with the renovations. What should we do next time we hang out?

Q: Yeah yeah

W: Do you wanna we- like

Q: I think I think we should yeah let's set some time apart and talk you and me

W: Yeah let's have a little run through a little run through

Q: Yeah yeah absolutely, and ranboo wilbur, you guys are welcome in the restaurant, las nevadas anytime

W: Wait-

Q: Anytime you guys like

W: Wait, I'm allowed in Las nevadas?

Q: Wilbur, you’re not, you’re taking this the wrong way

W: You told me I couldn't come in

Q: What kind of person would I be to tell you to leave my country. What kind of person would I be to not allow you in my premises? I wouldmt be a good person would I? Wilbur, you are my friend … I would never do that to you. I’m very welcoming, Ranboo come ahead, come inside as well ah this is all this is all healthy competition alright?

W: You’re a good man, you’re a good man Quackity, I’ll I’ll give you that. We got some burgers to flip so we will

Q: We do too we do too

T: Bye guys!

W: thanks for coming, thanks for coming down

Q: Cya guys

W: Cya guys

Q: Bye!

W:Ranboo.. Ranboo lets go

R: Yeah…. Let's go….

W: ooooOOOHHHHH boy ha- ha… ha ahhh ohhh this is good, this is what I want dude dude Ranboo did you see he was trying to act like I didn’t get to him?

R: Mhmm mhmm

W: You see the WHOLE time ohh it's not my horse

R: Geeh I mean yeah I mean he did I’m pretty sure

W: Dude he made an NFT burgers

R: He made an NFT burger- that is true

W: He cares so much he cares so much

R: That was your idea yeah

W: He cares aww man- How did you feel about this Ranboo? I mean dude!

R: I mean it's just burgers and everything so I think it's okay.

W: Eh it's “just burgers”

R: Its okay you know

W: I feel alive Ranboo, I feel alive! Someone is looking at me and talking to me!

R: Yeah yeah!

W: I’m alive I’m alive this is great!

R: Yeah, yeah I mean yeah, I again don’t I have to get used to competition and everything and be out there more with it all

W: I feel you Ranboo I feel you its scary its scary man, especially when we have a long way to go, bridges to cross and one day grab it by the horns and ride it

R: Yeah yeah,

W: And not it's just, it's just you and me against the world. The world being tubbo and quackity.

R: mhm mhmm

W: I mean why would you be against being against tubbo and quackity anywhere? I mean how well do you know Quackity?

R: I- I mean I don’t really know Quackity- Quackity all too well

W: Yeah yeah and I mean what do you and tubbo have you know going on that would block this?

R: I mean…

W: Sounds great to me

R: I mean… yeah yeah I - we kind of had like that cookie outpost we did together and everything it's fine I don’t have to get to it too much I dont um really wanna

W: You’re both businessmen

R: I don’t really ah want to get into it all too much

W: And that's fine. Ranboo I wanted to ask you man

R: Mhm?

W: You’ve had this cookie outpost right?

R: Yeahh

W: Did you like to get up to anything at the cookie outpost? Is there anything…?

R: Ahh, not at the cookie outpost but I do have something else actually… follow me I do- I do have something else…

W: Is it a secret?

R: It's a secret , yes.

W: Should we sneak?

R: Yeah um I think we can just get far enough away I think we'll be fine

W: Where are we going?

R: Into the strip club

W: heh-sh haha haha

R: Comeon, come on let's go

W: ahhaa sorry say that again

R: Into the strip club- we are going in!

W: Lets go

R: I have- I have my little hole in the strip club

W: You got a strip hole?

R: Yes!

W: I’ve never been in here before

R: Well I mean for logs, I mean look at those spruce logs over there, those are stripped. Alright ah perfect it's still, it's still here

W: This doesn't look very hidden

R: Oh its hidden trust me

W: it's very cozy

R: Oh it's very cozy and well if you need to use this for something we can definitely expand a little bit, but probably not too much though because we don’t want to infringe on everything

W: I like this, I mean we can do a little bit now! How about what we do? I like this. I like the wherewithal, maybe we can build a tunnel from here to the burger van. It can be our way in sneaking in from the burger van. aH okay okay you got your finger in a few espionage spies, I appreciate that and no one knows about this?

R: Yeah no one knows about it, yeah I think- to the best of my memory no one knows about it.. There's like a 85% chance that's right

W: That's cool that's cool because at the end of the day we’re- going right now we are the good guys Ranboo, we are the good guys, we-

R: You sure?

W: We-.... yeah! I mean we haven't done anything wrong you know?

R: Yeah

W: we haven't done anything wrong and quackity, quackity done a few things wrong…

R: Yeah yeah

W: hmm hmm is tubbo working full time? What's tubbos deal you know with the burger place?

R: I don’t know I have no idea actually

W: We don’t know we just don't know

R: I Don't know anything about that.

W: It's like how good of an employer is quackity? So I wanted to make sure before I go knowing you have already done a little act of espionage with the strip hole and other things I just

R: Mmmhmm

W: I just wanna, I just wanna say in any case of an emergency right?

R: mhm

W: When we are head to head, you know when- not head to head with each other uh when we are head to head with tubbo and big q and stuff

R: mhm

W: and maybe shits ya know hitting the fan and stuff- I need to know, that we have a saviour card to save the innocent people in this city like tubbo

R: mhm

W: Like fundy and these innocent people

R: So yeah.. So like a plan B just in case anything goes wrong we can save them?

W: Yeah, plan B

R:Okay I'm down for that. What is this- (Wilbur gives Ranboo thirteen TNT)

W: I want you to make yourself useful and..

R: oh

W:Set that up somewhere in las nevadas. I have more, I have more I have another stack if you need it but I think that should be enough to do a marketable amount of damage if you- okay so the problem essentially is that TNT as you know TNT doesnt detonate in water and as you know las nevadas is quite a large majority of water bound. However, quackity really seems to care about the inside of the casino which I’ve peaked in and there's no water in and the outsides of this restaurant section of this spire right? So what you could do is easily make a section in the casino that has a chain reaction under a button somewhere and each one of those detoniates the next consecutive one. It would take a little bit of work, I know quite a bit about TNT, I could help you.

R: Mhmm

W: So

R: o-okay

W: Look dude I’m just letting you know that's what I want you to do. PArt of working-

R: But in most cases and everything it would never see the light of day right?

W: In most cases yeah 100% most of the time maybe it won't happen, BUT if we need to protect the innocent thats what its fore

R: Yeah yeah

W: Yeah you want to protect like fundy, slimecicle, tubbo?

R: Yeah! Yeah

W: So that's, so that's what it's for and Ranboo! I shall bid you adieu, it was a pleasure, thank you for coming

R: Yeah of course!

W: and thank you for being a good co worker, you know?

R: Yeah

W: You’ve done a good job and I can’t-

R: Thank you

W: I trust you will do good work with that TNT I gave you but remember, make it safe!

R: Yeah

W: We don’t want it going off by accident we don't want it

R: Yeah I’ll maybe it very safe

W: Promise?

R: Promise, yeah

W: And you’re gonna tell me where you put the button and you’re gonna tell me where it's set up and-

R: Yep!

W: Okay. Alright, thanks Ranboo

R: Yeah, thanks, I’ll see ya, buh bye

W: I’ll see you around Ranboo. What a nice guy!

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

I know this question isn’t related to any stories on your blog but do you have any study tips? Recently I’ve really had to buckle down and study but some of the information just won’t stick in my brain. All throughout school I’ve luckily never had to study because I was just someone who picked up on things rather quickly but now that is really coming back to bite me in the ass. I’m currently taking a course online and they provide videos but the instructor’s voice is really monotone and I notice myself zoning out more easily than I usually do. They also include a lot information that can be considered “fluff” so I’m not sure how to decide what is important for me to know and what is considered “fluff”. Only taking notes on what my teachers had on their PowerPoints also came back to bite me in the ass. 😭😭

I’ve been following your blog for awhile now and noticed that you take mini hiatuses to focus on your studies and am wondering how you do so especially considering the difficult classes that you take and have to keep up with year round.

Any tips are greatly appreciated 💕

Hi, love! Yeah I’m happy to help! Studying can be a pain so I get it. Just for context tho, I’m a STEM student so a lot of my studying skills are geared towards Science/Math based classes, but I’m sure these tips can be applied universally. Anyway, onto the tips!

Pomodoro Technique - Online classes are such a pain too, it’s easy to get distracted! That’s where this comes in. 20 minute study intervals with 2 minute breaks in between, and after two hours have elapsed a 30 minute break. This especially helped me with online lectures as I couldn’t just sit still and watch an hour and a half lecture every time, and this works for general studying too! As you get more proficient in this method, feel free to extend the study interval in increments of 5. And if it’s too hard, feel free to decrease it to 15 instead of twenty.

Active Recall Techniques - Flash cards, flash cards, and more flash cards. I think I killed a couple of trees in my last quarter alone (it’s okay I use ecosia LMAO). See, it’s nice if a professor provides a formula sheet, but that’s time wasted during an exam. Pick out key words and remember phrases. Cornell notes also helps a lot especially when writing down questions to ask your professor later during office hours or such, and it helps with revising later!

Different Notes Methods - There’s no one way to write your notes! I’ve always hated it when people said “you can only do your notes this way!” Because every person is different! For me Cornell works well, but I can see why that wouldn’t work for some people! But if you’re following active recall, try not to just copy paste your notes onto paper from the PowerPoint, rather, try writing your notes from memory instead! Copying your notes activated passive learning, which isn’t as effective for some people. Again, just try what works best! To revise I usually make mind maps, for example.

Mind Maps - Write the central topic of one chapter and expand upon it similar to a branching tree! The leaves are the details while the branches are broad ideas! Do this from memory first and, with a different color, write in extra details you missed when cross referencing with your notes.

Practice Problems - I cannot stress this one enough. You can be amazing at concepts in theory, but if you don’t practice them you won’t fully grasp them. The best way to test if you understand concepts is to do a problem on it!

Summarize - When it came to studying for exams, I found that blatant revision, at least for me, wasn’t effective (but if it works for you go ahead!) instead, I would try to summarize the chapter (by memory) in a compact form (1-2 pages) as if I were making a study guide. Similar to the mind maps, if it wasn’t something I could recall off the top of my head, I wrote it in a different color.

Unfortunately, I can’t help much on sorting through fluff. For me I had to memorize or understand everything because I never knew what would be on the exam, but hopefully the methods above can help! Happy studying! You got this, love <3

[cozy-the-overlord]

Now, Forever, and Always

Summary:  She was perfect—intelligent, entertaining, kind, beautiful... but mortal. Loki was determined not to lose her.

Word Count: 7,031

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: So this idea came from a made-up fic title sent to me by @the-emo-asgardian for an ask game a few weeks ago and has been living rent free in my mind ever since. I don't know why that out of all the nice, happy fic ideas I got out of that game, it was the depressing one I decided I had to write. Oh well. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask :)

Read it on Ao3!

He knew better.

He hadn’t planned on remaining on Earth for any extended period of time. His forced servitude to the Avengers, his punishment—it was a nuisance that he would have to endure for a bit, but like everything else on the planet, it was temporary. Human lives passed with the beat of a heart. They would not hold him for long. Loki only needed to keep his head down and wait.

He knew better than to get involved with a mortal.

In his defense, it hadn’t been something he could have prepared for. At first glance, Madelyn Robbins was hardly anything remarkable. Her role as Stark’s personal assistant kept her in the periphery, the type of person one didn’t notice was in the room until she stepped forward with the answer to their question mere moments after it left their tongue. She was forgettable, unexceptional, a background figure that you weren’t supposed to notice.

But Loki noticed her.

He noticed her intelligence, how easily she picked up on concepts most mortals could never even begin to understand, how she seemed to remember anything and everything she heard and saw. He noticed her focus, how she was able to filter through the chaos of the Tower and retrieve the information she needed without ever having to raise her voice. And he noticed her boldness.

The first time he spoke with her was a week or two after he had first joined the Avengers, back when it seemed there was not one employee in the whole building with enough backbone to look him in the eye. Loki told himself it was fine with him. It wasn’t as if he was interested in making friends with any of them.  He had been reading in one of the common areas when he noticed her standing over his chair, waiting expectantly.

He frowned. “Pardon?”

Madelyn’s smile didn’t waver. “I said Mr. Stark’s sending me out on a coffee run,” she said, clutching her tablet to her gray blazer. “I was wondering if you wanted anything.”

Loki glared up at her coldly, out of instinct more than anything else. “I do not drink coffee.” He had expected her to cower, but she only laughed.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” she nodded as she turned to leave. “But I just wanted to make sure.” Loki had watched as she made her way across the room to where Thor was talking with two agents he didn’t recognize. He didn’t hear what they said, but her musical laugh carried over his brother’s booming voice. When he turned back to his book, he found himself reading the same page over and over again.

She didn’t ask him for his coffee order again. Loki should have been pleased with that—she got the hint, she wasn’t trying to bother him—but as he watched her make the rounds with the other Avengers, joking together as she balanced the plastic cups on her tray, he felt only disappointment.

He started watching her from afar without really realizing he was doing it: during briefings, in the lab, at Stark’s godforsaken “teambuilding exercises”—she was always there, standing in the background, waiting to jump into action the moment someone needed something. She was quiet, but not a shy sort of quiet—she’d dive into conversation with anyone who gave her the opportunity to do so. No, Madelyn was a professional quiet. Loki found himself wondering what she was like outside the Tower, beyond the boundaries of her employment.

She was notoriously private about her personal life. Stark would tease her about it often, asking her loaded questions everyone knew she wouldn’t answer.

“You don’t mind staying late tonight, do you?” he’d smirk. “You won’t be keeping anyone waiting up, right?”

Loki would have been driven mad by such interrogation, but Madelyn always laughed it off. “I’ll worry about that, Mr. Stark. You just stick to your robots.”

Perhaps this was why it was treated as such a shocking turn of events when Thor announced that he had seen Madelyn’s boyfriend.

“It was in front of the building, on the street. They were embracing.” His brother seemed unreasonably proud to be the one to break the news to everyone. “He was tall, light-haired. Very handsome. I’d say they looked to be very much in love!”

As the others tittered over this gossip, Loki slunk from the room. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Madelyn was clever, kind, attractive—of course she had a lover. What did it matter? It wasn’t as if it affected him. Still, he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in his chest.

What kind of man would she love, he wondered? Someone gentle, probably. Someone who she could sit down and talk to knowing he was genuinely listening. Someone who would respect her choices and trust her decisions. Someone who could make her laugh—Madelyn loved to laugh. It seemed she was always giggling at something someone said, hiding her mouth behind her palm as her eyes sparkled with mirth. It was rather adorable. He had made her laugh before, once when Stark and Rodgers were arguing over some inconsequential thing. Loki didn’t even remember what it was he said; he had just rolled his eyes and made some dry remark, and Madelyn ducked her head into her hands as she chortled. When he turned towards her, she was smiling brightly at him. He found he was smiling too.

It was stupid, but Loki didn’t like the idea of anyone else making her smile like that.

The other Avengers didn’t seem to mind, and to Loki’s chagrin the mystery man remained a hot topic of conversation for the next several months. He couldn’t look at her without Thor’s words bleeding through his ears like poison in his mind: “I’d say they looked to be very much in love!”

Loki was thinking about it the day before New Year’s Eve, when Madelyn joined him in the elevator as he was returning to his rooms with her usual cheerful greeting. He nodded his hello. For a moment, they only stood in silence, but soon enough she turned to him.

“Are you going to Mr. Stark’s party tomorrow?” she asked.

Ah, yes. Stark’s infamous New Year’s celebration. Loki thought that he would prefer the scorching heat of a Muspelheim prison to spending the night with a skyscraper full of drunken mortals who despised his very existence, but Thor had made it clear that he had little choice in the matter.

“I’ve been told that I will be in attendance, whether I like it or not.” Madelyn chuckled, and Loki felt that familiar warmth rising in his chest. He cleared his throat. “Are you going?”

“Yeah, I guess. It would look bad if I didn’t,” she sighed wistfully. “I don’t know, I just always feel like such a loser showing up to these things alone.”

Loki frowned. Surely, attending alone was not her only option. “Your boyfriend is not accompanying you?”

Madelyn cocked her head, giving him a strange look. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said slowly.

For a moment Loki thought he was hearing things. “You don’t?” he repeated.

She shook her head, frowning. “Why did you think that?”

His mind was racing. “Thor—he said he saw you embracing someone in front of the building.”

“What!” she cried. “When?”

He told her the whole story, repeating his brother’s tale practically word for word in bewildered confusion. By the end, she was laughing incredulously.

“That was Dave!” she choked. “My brother-in-law, Dave! I left my purse in my apartment, and I needed my ID to get into the Tower. He was just dropping it off for me. Did everyone think we were a thing? Oh, that’s hilarious!”

She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve as Loki stared in disbelief. For so long, he had buried his thoughts under the belief that she was taken, that even if he allowed himself to want her she could never be his. This revelation seemed unthinkable.

“You’re not seeing anyone?” he asked.

“No!” She was still laughing as she shook her head. “I’ve been single for the past two years.”

“Oh.” Loki swallowed. He knew he should have left it there. She was mortal. She was temporary. Indulging the wild longing in his chest would only lead to more suffering. He knew better.

And yet he didn’t.

“Well, in that case,” Loki inhaled. There was a tremble in his voice—where had that come from?—that he hoped she didn’t notice. “Perhaps you would honor me with your company at the party tomorrow night?”

Madelyn turned back towards him “Are—are you asking me out?”

He burned. “I believe that’s the proper phrase.” This was a terrible idea.

But she didn’t appear to be offended. Rather, she sounded … confused. “Really?” she asked. “I just—I didn’t think you liked anybody here.”

“I like you.” He did, he realized, although it was strange to admit out loud. The simple truth was that the room lit up whenever she entered, and he lit up with it.

“Really?” Madelyn whispered. He nodded. “Well,” she said, a soft smile breaking out across her lips, “I like you too. And I’d love to go with you tomorrow night.”

Something bloomed in his chest, something lovely and wonderful and warm. He loved the way she smiled.

“Excellent,” he said, fighting to keep his elated grin from seeming too over-eager. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

It was scandalous, to be sure, when they walked onto the penthouse floor arm in arm on New Year’s Eve. It seemed the whole room fell quiet for a moment. In the back, Stark nearly choked on his drink.

Madelyn didn’t seem to mind. She pulled him through the hordes of people, the voluminous skirt of her dress swirling around her in an emerald sea. He didn’t know where she had managed to find a gown that so flawlessly matched his colors on such short notice, or how she had even known to look for one in that shade, but it was perfect.

She was perfect.

Stark’s holiday celebrations were always an adventure—they weren’t quite up to par with the unhinged chaos of Asgardian feasts, but they usually were hectic enough to keep Loki looking over his shoulder the entire time, half expecting to find some demon from his past lurking amidst the drunken partygoers. That night though, there was only Madelyn. She pulled him through the madness with the easy assurance of an expert, gliding with him across the dance floor as if they owned it. She knew all the nooks and crannies, all the little alcoves to which they could retreat when they wished to break from the noise to talk.

They talked a lot. She told him about her family, about her mother who went around telling all her brunch friends that her daughter worked alongside the Avengers for a living (“she leaves out the fact that I’m basically a glorified intern”), about her older sister who gave up her dreams of Hollywood to settle down with her high school sweetheart.

“He’s the one who dropped off your purse?” Loki interrupted as they sat at a bench against the wall on the balcony, overlooking the festivities below.

Madelyn laughed. “Yeah, Dave. He is a sweetheart.” She shook her head, still chuckling. “I can’t believe you guys thought he was my boyfriend. That’s so funny to me.”

“Well, my brother does have a tendency to jump to conclusions,” Loki sighed, watching Thor and his crowd of inebriated fools attempting to take shots off of Mjolnir’s handle. He turned back to his lady. “But you can’t place all the blame on him. We all knew next to nothing about your personal life. How was he to know better?”

“True,” she mused. “I like to keep an air of mystery at work. It keeps people interested.”

“Oh?” Loki raised his eyebrows. “If that’s the case, then why have you dropped the mystery with me?”

She scowled at him with mock outrage. “Am I not interesting enough for you, Asgardian?”

Laughing, he pulled back on to the dance floor.

It was fitting that the party marked the beginning of the New Year, because afterwards everything changed. It had been a while since Loki had courted anyone, and of course Midgardian “dating” was a bit different, but it brough a levity to his life that he hadn’t realized he needed. On the surface, it didn’t even seem that drastic a shift. Sometimes, it was as simple as a glance from her across a crowded room, that warm smile meant just for him, and suddenly the whole world lit up. Stark groaned that the two of them making heart eyes at each other all day made him sick, but Loki couldn’t care less. For once, life didn’t seem quite so wretched.

At first, they only spent time together within the Tower—after all, Loki was confined to SHIELD’s surveillance. He was rather ashamed of it, ashamed that he wasn’t able to take her out and show her a good time the way she deserved, but Madelyn insisted that she didn’t mind. She’d pick up sandwiches at a bakery down the street and they’d have dinner in his rooms while watching a movie.

He had to laugh—Madelyn had a list of film she claimed were a critical part of Midgardian culture that he just had to see, but inevitably they’d turn it on and spend the entire time talking over it about a subject only tangentially related. He didn’t mind though, and Madelyn didn’t seem to either—she’d rest her head on his shoulder and tell him all the differences between the film and the book which it was inspired by, and he’d wrap his arm around her shoulder and hang on to every word.

The first time she stayed the night had actually been an accident. It seemed that they both had miscalculated how tired they were after a week of wild missions and had fallen asleep together whilst cuddling on the couch. Loki woke up with the gentle pressure of her head on his chest and the warmth of her in his arms. He was smiling before he was even fully awake.

After a while, he began finding ways to sneak out of the Tower and meet her elsewhere. Her tiny apartment became the center of his world. He’d meet her for coffee or for dinner or just for a walk, and she’d take him home with her, so often that she stopped asking him if he wanted to come in. It was a peaceful kind of domestic that Loki had never thought to dream about. Madelyn was perfect—intelligent, entertaining, kind, beautiful, everything he could ever want. Sometimes, he almost forgot that she wasn’t Asgardian.

Her mortality would rear its head in other ways, though. One day, she tripped walking down the stairs as they were leaving her apartment building, tumbling to the ground before Loki could catch her. It wasn’t a bad fall, and Madelyn had scrambled back to her feet in seconds insisting she was fine, but her ankle had swollen up almost immediately. When she tried to take another step, she almost fell over again.

This time, Loki scooped her up into his arms. “Fragile little thing,” he teased, carrying her down the steps to a nearby bench.

They had laughed about it, but a week later Madelyn was still walking with a limp.

One night, he awoke with a start, sweating and shaking and gasping for air as Madelyn hovered over him anxiously.

“It’s a dream!” she was crying. “Loki, it’s not real!”

The bed was too hot. Loki ripped himself from the covers, hunching over the side as he struggled to catch his breath. Madelyn followed, rubbing his back soothingly as he fought to control the trembling in his hands. For a moment, the room was silent but for his labored breathing.

“Are you okay?” she finally whispered.

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

“You were crying in your sleep.”

Must have woken her up then. He tried to swallow, but his mouth tasted like sandpaper. “I’m sorry.”

Madelyn shook her head. “No, it’s fine! I was just worried.” She squeezed his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Loki inhaled. “It was just a dream. No matter.” Even in the dark, he could feel her eyes on him, studying him in concern. When he moved to lie back down, she laid next to him, a protective arm around his torso.

“You’re safe here, okay?” she whispered. “Nothing can happen to us here.” Loki didn’t answer, only staring at the ceiling.

For once, it hadn’t been about him.

No, he had dreamed of Madelyn, stiff in a hospital bed, her cheeks hollowed and gaunt, her once vibrant hair now a thinned and faded halo on the pillow beneath her head. Her wrinkled skin sagged with the weight of infirmity. Her clasped hands rose and fell with her chest as the death rattle stained her wilted lips.

Loki tried to forget about it, but the image was seared into his memory. He couldn’t look at Madelyn without picturing her face caving into a haggard old woman choking on her last breath. It would happen soon, he realized, horrifically soon. Mortals had a hundred years if they were lucky, less if they weren’t. He spent sleepless nights lying awake in bed, listening to Madelyn’s steady breathing in the dark. 100 years—that was nothing. That was a blink of an eye, a beat of his heart, and then she’d be gone.

He couldn’t bear to think of it.

There was a story, he remembered suddenly on one such torturous night, a story his mother used to tell to him and his brother when they were small, about a goddess with magical apples that could grant immortality to those who tasted them. It was probably nothing, just a childish bedtime tale, but once it flitted into his mind Loki couldn’t get it out. After all, didn’t most legends have some basis in fact?

It was a myth on Midgard, too. He found it within moments when he looked it up—the story of Idunn’s apples. Of course, that didn’t mean anything. The human versions of Asgardian history had a tendency to be quite muddled. But … it was an idea. There had to be something, some way to extend a mortal lifespan. Without telling anyone, Loki began devoting his free time to research.

They had been together for several months when Loki decided to take Madelyn to Asgard for the first time. Frigga had extended her invitation to her a bit prior, but accepting hadn’t been an easy decision. He had watched Thor take Jane home many times over since he began his stint with the Avengers. He had seen firsthand how Asgardians looked upon mortals in their midst, even when the mortal in question were on the arm of their golden prince. He couldn’t imagine that Madelyn could expect any better treatment— in fact, given his reputation, it seemed safe to assume that she could expect worse. 

But in the end, they decided to go. Madelyn was excited—her first time traveling off world— and Loki was eager to introduce her to his mother, who he knew would just absolutely adore her.

Secretly, he was also hoping that she would be able to help him with granting Madelyn immortality.

His mortal lover was a bit overwhelmed at first by their trip to the Golden City. 

“I think I’m going to be sick” she whispered, clutching his wrist so tightly it almost hurt as they stepped off the Bifrost, and for a moment Loki feared that the visit had been a mistake. But she recovered quickly, and soon curiosity bubbled over her anxiety.

“What’s this made of?” she asked, wide eyes staring at the bridge beneath their feet as he helped her mount his horse. “Is it some kind of crystal? How does it work?” He couldn’t help but laugh as he climbed on behind her, pressing a kiss to her neck before spurring on his stead.

As to be expected, his mother took Madelyn under her wing immediately, greeting her with an embrace before swooping her away to help her unpack and dress for dinner. 

Unfortunately, she was less helpful when Loki approached her later about his search.

“Oh Loki,” she sighed when he asked if she knew of any way to extend a human lifespan. “That’s the quandary of becoming entangled with mortals. Their lives are fleeting. You have to be able to accept that.”

No. Loki shook his head fiercely. “There must be some way,” he insisted. “The stories you’d tell us as children, Idunn’s apples—“

“Those were stories, my son.” He hated the pity in her eyes as she studied him. “She is mortal. She will grow old, and she will die. It’s the way of things.” Frigga took his hand in hers. “Enjoy the time you have with her. Don’t waste her life trying to save it.”

He ripped his arm from her. “That’s not good enough!”

She inhaled, holding the bridge of her nose. “You could ask your father,” she finally offered. “He may know something I don’t.”

Loki huffed in resignation.

When he brought forth his question before the AllFather, he had known Odin would never take it seriously. Still, he found himself tasting blood as his father’s ragged laughter echoed across the empty throne room. 

“Is this the reason why you brought her here, then?” he asked. “You seek a cure for inferiority?”

“I seek to expand my lady’s lifespan,” he said, struggling to maintain his even tone. “She has no inferiority to cure.”

“Your lady,” he mocked. “Your lady, who you might snap in half with a wayward flick of your wrist. Would you not call that inferiority?”

Loki held his tongue. Try as he might to ignore it, there was truth to Odin’s words and he hated him for it.

“I seek to expand her lifespan,” he repeated. “Do you know of any method do do so?”

His father raised his eyebrows. “Unlike my sons, I’m not in the habit of keeping mortal pets.”

Loki seethed. “She is not a pet!”

“Your time on Midgard has made you as childish as your brother.” Odin shook his head, leaning back in his golden throne. “The mortal’s life is fleeting, insignificant. You would waste your time and mine trying to raise a dog to godhood.”

“She’s not a dog!” he snapped. “She’s not a dog, she’s not a pet, she’s my love and her name is Madelyn.”

“And in a century, she’ll be dust!” the king retorted. “Will it matter then what name marks her headstone?”

Loki stormed out. 

It was pathetic, pathetic, that his father’s words still cut him so deeply, that his inconsequential views could still send him running with tears burning in his eyes like a slighted child. He stomped through the palace halls with no real destination in mind, heaving like some kind of animal. 

He’d show him. He’d show them both. He’d find a way to save her. Somehow, he’d find a way to make her immortal, and then they’d see. They’d see.

He was shaking uncontrollably by the time he found Madelyn in the gardens, gathered in the middle of the brick pathways with Frigga and several of her ladies. It was strange— swathed in an Asgardian gown, with her hair done up in the latest fashion, one would never have known she was of Midgard. 

She turned as Loki approached, her eyes lighting up as they always did whenever they landed on his. However, her gaze turned to a frown as he got closer.

“Loki, what’s wro—“ he planted his lips on hers before she could finish, cradling her face in his palms as he drank in her smell. Madelyn stiffened at first, but in moments she had melted into the kiss even as the court ladies tittered around them. 

When they finally pulled away, she let out a flustered giggle. “What was that for?”

He studied her face, her sparkling eyes that seemed to hold whole galaxies, entranced. “I love you.”

Loki had never said the words before, not to her or any other woman, and yet they flowed from his lips as easily as a downhill stream. Madelyn’s breath hitched.

“What?” she breathed. 

“I love you,” he repeated, his heart glowing with all the confidence in the universe, and he kissed her again.

When they returned to Earth, Loki threw himself back into his research with a new ferocity. He scoured the history of the Nine Realms, seeking just the slightest hint that what he was searching for existed. The myth of Idunn’s apples was a recurring subject, and he tried frantically to trace it to reality, but unfortunately, his mother’s assertion that it was naught but a child’s bedtime story appeared to be true. He couldn’t find any proof of them actually existing. Still, he spent nights at his desk, hunched over the scrolls Frigga sent him from the palace library, praying for something that continued to elude him.

Madelyn, unconcerned with her impending mortality, fretted he wasn’t getting enough sleep.

“Just come to bed,” she pleaded with him one night. “Whatever it is, it can wait until the morning.”

He laughed softly. “I don’t need as much rest as you do, love. I think I’ll be fine.”

“But you stay up all night, and then they send you into the field in the morning!” she insisted, rubbing his shoulder. “That can’t be safe.”

He covered her hand with his own, gently stroking her knuckles. It never ceased to amaze him how soft her skin was. “You don’t need to worry about me, darling.”

But Madelyn was right, as always. He wasn’t getting enough sleep at night, and it was beginning to affect his reflexes. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

In Loki’s defense, it wasn’t entirely his fault. The mission had been flawed to begin with, everything that could have possibly gone wrong went wrong, and Loki had ended up trapped in an underground Hydra base with no backup, no escape plan, and hordes of enemy agents closing in. Still, it was manageable—far from ideal, but manageable— until he miscalculated a dagger throw and hit one of their Tesseract-powered devices.

Shit—

He felt the blast more than he saw it, felt the burst of scorching heat that flooded the hall and ripped the air from his lungs. His vision burned bright white.

Huh, he remembered thinking, perhaps Madelyn and I will have closer lifespans after all.

She was the first thing he saw when he awoke, head buzzing and limbs too leaden to move. He opened his aching eyes and she was there, glowing in the light of the hospital room, his guardian angel watching over him through the night. When he croaked her name, her eyes swam with relief. She reached out to stroke his cheek, the chill of her fingers soothing against his feverish skin. He melted against her touch. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

“Madelyn,” he gasped. “Madelyn, marry me.”

He passed out before he could hear her answer.

They were wed on Alfheim, atop a picturesque cove overlooking the gardens of Ljosalfgard. Madelyn was absolutely radiant, her silver gown bathing her in a pearly glow as she practically sang her vows to him. Loki drowned in her eyes, drowned in the desire to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until they were both out of breath. He could have almost ignored the vow "til death do us part" had it not been for the pitied glance the Elvish officiants exchanged as she said them.

"I'm going to find a way to save you," he whispered against her hair that night as he held her to his bare chest.

Madelyn shifted, craning her neck so that she could fix him with a frown. "What are you talking about?"

A wayward strand of hair clung to her forehead. Loki pushed it away absentmindedly.

"Death will not part us, my love. I swear it."

She sighed. "Don't think about stuff like that. Not tonight." She leaned back against him, covering his hand with hers as she drifted off to sleep.

Loki didn't say anything.

Stark bought them a house in Upstate New York as a wedding present—a sweet, cozy little place not too far away from the new Avengers base. It was quiet, secluded, peaceful, everything he could have ever asked for.

If only he hadn’t known it was temporary.

Madelyn didn’t understand. She’d get up in the morning to find Loki pouring over his scrolls at the kitchen table, having never come to bed at all, and scold him for not taking better care of himself.

“This is ridiculous!” she snapped. “You’re going to kill yourself over this wild goose chase!”

“I have to!” he insisted. “I have to find a way to save you!”

She sighed. “You don’t need to save me.” Kneeling besides him, she took his face in her hands. “Don’t you see? I don’t care how long my life is, as long as I get to spend it with you.” Loki closed his eyes as he leaned into her palm, covering the back of her hand with his own. It was so simple for her. She didn’t understand how the image of her decaying features haunted his every waking moment.

They had been husband and wife for quite some time when he finally found something—a lead that might have the capability to save her from her ephemerality. Loki was ecstatic, more hopeful than he had been in years as he prepared to make the journey across the galaxy. Madelyn was less so.

“Look,” she worried as she watched race about the house packing a bag. “I’m glad that you’re so happy, but is this really worth the trip?”

“How could it not be?” he asked. “Once I return, you will finally be immortal, as you deserve. We will be able to live out our lives together forever.” Loki glanced up at her. “Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I want that, Loki!” Madelyn cried. “But more than that, I want you, here, safe. You don’t know what you’re walking into. You can’t even know how long you’ll be gone! What if something happens to you?”

He laughed softly. “You need not fear for me, my love. I will always return to you.”

Still, she remained unsoothed. “Please,” she said. “If you have to go, let me come with you. We’ll stay together!”

“No. It’s far too dangerous for you.” The very thought sent a shiver down his spine. “I’ll not allow the Norns to take you from me as I attempt to save you.”

“Loki …”

“Darling.” He kissed her, relishing the way she melted against him. “All will be well. I swear it.”

But all was not well. Months of searching in the very corners of deep space brought him nowhere, his false hopes dashed across the barren landscape of the planet her salvation. The scrolls had been wrong. There was nothing.

At first, Loki stayed out there, still frantically searching for something that could save her. He had promised, sworn, to her that he would find a way. He couldn’t return home empty handed. And so for a while longer he remained on the edges of space, traveling from planet to remote planet as he fought to find even the slightest hint of the solution he sought. But the time away weighed heavily on his soul. He missed Madelyn—he missed the curve of her smile, the melody of her laugh, the way she never seemed to tire of listening to what he had to say. He missed waking up to the comforting pressure of her head on his chest. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He had barely made it up the driveway before Madelyn had thrown her arms around him, clinging him so tightly that he almost couldn’t breathe even as her tiny body shook with her tears. Loki tugged her closer, burying his face in her neck. She smelled like home.

Still, something held him from smiling when they finally pulled away.

“I failed,” he whispered, hanging his head. “I failed you, Madelyn.”

She shook her head, cupping his face with her hands. “You’re back,” she said sternly, “You’re back and you’re safe and that’s all I will ever care about.”

Loki hadn’t realized how long he had been gone until he returned. Madelyn was the same gorgeous creature he had always known, but he began to pick up on miniscule differences within her. She was thinner, her face more worn than when he remembered. He found himself repeating the same tales to her over and over again—she’d ask him questions about his journey, he would answer them, they’d talk about his answers until she was satisfied … and then she’d ask the same question a few days later as if she had never spoken it before. It frightened him.

At first, he would point it out to her, his fear manifesting in frustrated questions: “Didn’t I already tell you all this?” But he hated the way she flinched, how her face would fall as she murmured apologetically that she must have forgotten. He hated feeling as if he was causing her pain. So, Loki repeated his anecdotes and kept his worries to himself.

He feared for her physical health as well. Her hands had become stiff and swollen since he had seen her last, painful to the point that she now took prescribed medication to help her cope. On some days, it seemed hardly noticeable, but on others she could barely bend her fingers. Still, Madelyn insisted that it was fine.

“It’s no big deal,” she told him. “My mom had arthritis, I knew I was probably going to get it eventually.” With a dry laugh, she added, “I’m probably lucky—she always had it much worse than this.”

Madelyn’s mother had passed away while he was gone, the victim of the horrible human disease known as cancer. Madelyn didn’t speak much about it, not even to him. Loki felt guilty—he had unknowingly her left alone and without support in a time when she had probably needed it the most. He was also increasingly anxious—if Madelyn had already inherited one disease from her mother, who’s to say she wouldn’t also develop the far more deadly one? Loki found himself returning to his research.

It wasn’t until he started on the texts Thor had gifted him from his own travels that he thought he found something. A necklace of myth, purported to be held deep within the twisted forests of Terma, enchanted to bring eternal life to those who wear it about their neck. Loki arranged to leave for it immediately.

 However, his wife put her foot down. “You’re not going again.”

Loki sighed. “I have to. Madelyn, there’s a chance that this could work—”

“That’s what you said last time!”

“I know. But I have to try.”

“Why?” she demanded, tone verging on hysterical.

He turned around incredulously. Why? “Because I love you!”

“No you don’t!” The walls rattled with the weight of her words. It was only then that Loki realized his wife was crying. His eyes widened in horror. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t keep leaving.” Her voice cracked, her breath coming in unsteady hiccups. “You were gone for so long. I didn’t know if you were okay, or if you were coming back—I was so scared—”

Loki pulled her into his arms, where she sobbed freely against his chest. It was as if someone had stuck a dagger in his gut. Everything he had done, every action he had taken—it had all been for Madelyn. That’s all he ever wanted, to protect Madelyn! And yet, it seemed he had caused her more pain than the forces of nature he sought to protect her from.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair as he held her to his chest. His vision prickled with tears of his own. “I won’t leave again, I promise. I’m so sorry, my love.”

He resolved to be strong. He would not think of what the future held; he would keep his mind in the here and now, safe and warm with his perfect wife at his side. And so he did, for a time. He’d read poetry to her out loud as she rested her head on his lap, telling himself that he was only imagining that the creases in her face seemed to be deepening with every passing day. Some nights, they’d join the others for dinner at the Avengers base, where the conversation would inevitably devolve into Barton and Stark arguing over who had the more accomplished grandchildren and Madelyn would doze off against his shoulder on the way home. There was a steady sort of domesticity to it, and Loki enjoyed it—he enjoyed every moment with her—but he could only ignore time’s dark specter for so long.

It reared its ugly head in the form of a bottle under the sink. When Loki had first found it, he had only been confused, but when he presented it to Madelyn, she wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“It’s hair dye,” she finally admitted. “I’ve been using it for a few years now.”

Loki didn’t understand. “What are you talking about? Your hair color hasn’t changed.”

Her laugh was soft and tinged with sadness. “I went gray a while ago, sweetheart. I’ve been dying it my natural color.”

It was as if someone had ripped the air from his lungs. “Wh—” A few years? He gulped. “Why would you do that?”

“I—” Madelyn seemed ashamed. “I was afraid it would upset you. You’ve always been so worried about me, you know—” she inhaled sharply. “I was afraid you’d leave again.”

The heartbreak in her voice was killing him.

“I’m not going anywhere, darling,” he assured her, reaching out to pull her closer. “I promised, remember?”

She nodded, resting her cheek against his chest. “I do remember that, at least.” Loki laughed as he held her close, but inwardly his mind was racing.

He was running out of time.

This time, when he returned to his research, he did so in secret. Madelyn was suffering enough—he didn’t want to contribute to her pain. At one point, keeping her in the dark about his activities would have been difficult, back when she caught every little shift in his personality, but these days she didn’t seem to notice as much. Still, Loki couldn’t spend whole nights at his work the way he used to. Madelyn slept lightly, often waking up in the darkness to a fit of hacking and gasping for air. He’d be at her side in a second, glass of water in hand and notes abandoned.

“Sorry … for waking you up,” she’d wheeze. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” he’d choke.

But one night, she caught him. It was chillier than usual, and he had moved from his desk to the living room and the fireplace. The crackling of the flames masked the padding of her feet down the hall.

“What are you doing?”

He jumped. Madelyn was standing in the hallway, wrapped in a blanket and leaning against the doorframe for support. Her eyes seemed to glow in the light of the fire.

“I—” He didn’t know how to respond. Perhaps that was enough of a response. She sighed, hobbling forward on unsteady legs. Loki rushed forward to support her. “Darling, you shouldn’t be up.”

“No.” She gripped his wrist, nodding towards the couch. “Sit with me. Hold me.” Her expression left no room for argument. He wasn’t certain he wanted to argue with her anyway. Loki scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the room, surprised by how little effort it took him. Madelyn had always been light, but it seemed she had become even more so since he had last picked her up. He found himself thinking about the first time he had carried her, when she twisted her ankle on the steps of her apartment. It felt like just yesterday that he had held her in his arms as he teased her for her mortal fragility. For Madelyn, he realized with a start, it had been a lifetime ago.

He sat on the couch before the fire, still holding her in his lap. She fixed him with a stern glare.

“You said you were done with this.”

As words failed him, Loki let out a pained breath. “It’s you,” he whispered finally. “I can’t—I can’t just give up on you.”

“It’s not giving up.” She reached out to stroke his cheek with wrinkled fingers. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Loki, I’m old. I’m going to die, soon rather than later. That’s not something anybody can change. Not even you.”

He wished he could accuse her of lying, that he could stand up and prove how she was wrong, how he could stop time’s work. Instead, tears blurred his vision when he opened his eyes. “I can’t lose you.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “You’re not losing me! I’m right here. With you. Now, forever, and always.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, leaning her head against his. “I love you, Loki.”

He pressed his lips to her temple. “I love you too. So much.”

The fire had gone out when he awoke in the morning. She was still in his lap, at rest and peaceful.

“Madelyn?”

She didn’t move.

Loki brushed his fingers across her cheek. Her skin was cold.

His voice broke. “Madelyn.”

But Madelyn only lay against him, still and silent and perfect as could be.