#can't believe we have to wait another week to see this unfold

[fjorests-of-wildemount]

I have talked quite a bit about this in the past, but given where we are in the campaign now and what has just happened, I wanted to put down some thoughts in a maybe, hopefully coherent kind of way. Mostly the thoughts chase each other around in my head going “brrrrr” so here’s hoping they cooperate.

Since we have known him, Orym has been on a Mission. When he first linked up with the Crown Keepers he had been on the road, presumably on his own, for at least four years, possibly five. At some time during those years, Keyleth charged him with finding out information on the attack that killed Will and Derrig to make sense of what happened that day. Early on he’s quiet, thoughtful, reluctant to take the lead, and honorable to a fault. Even as he opens himself up to create connections with this motley crew, he still guards part of himself. In fact, in the time we see them together he never tells the Crown Keepers about his family. The only mention we get is when he is asked by the Wildmother if he will continue on and Orym says, “For him, I will.”

None of this is to say he doesn’t feel connected to his friends, who manage to take him on a journey away from his primary directive, and–given the fact that Orym was alone at the beginning of ExU–it’s safe to say these are the first people he’s connected with in a long time. It was while he was with them that he started practicing the Zeph’aeratam again. Being part of the group with Opal and Dariax and Fearne and Dorian and Fy’ra showed Orym that the world was bigger than his grief.

But still, he kept it to himself.

After the events of ExU Prime, Orym and his two best friends from the Crown Keepers, Dorian and Fearne, went back to Zephrah. A place that I would argue Orym probably had returned to seldom, if not never, since Will and Derrig’s deaths. It was sometime during this journey that Orym told them both about his family, likely the first people from outside of Zephrah to know their names and what they meant to him. These friends went with him to continue his Mission, to try to help him get closure. And when Dorian left, Orym kept hold of the means to keep in touch, because Orym had gotten closer to Fearne and Dorian than he had gotten to anyone since he lost his family.

I would love to know what, if any, kind of conversations Orym had with Dorian and Fearne about Will and Derrig, especially Will. Because as the weeks went on, Orym did forge bonds with Bell’s Hells, he did start to tell more people about the ones he’d lost, but always at a distance. He kept the memories of who Will and Derrig were to himself, even as he was honest about how much he missed them. Did Orym take the chance to tell Dorian and Fearne about what they were like when they were alive? Because it’s clear that Orym is bereft, and angry, and lonely, and goes to sleep every night with them in his thoughts. Is there anyone else alive who knows the secrets of what Will and Orym were like when they were together, just the two of them?

There is nothing secret about the pain and anger he feels, but what about the joy?

The Mission as it was originally put to Orym is over now. They know everything about how and why Zephrah was attacked. That doesn’t mean Orym is stopping, because Orym isn’t the kind of person who could stop when someone is in danger. But the single-minded drive toward Otohan, toward answers and justice or whatever Orym thinks Will and Derrig would have wanted from him in this, was the mortar Orym used to build up his walls. He’s standing on a precipice of a vast future and he’s alone because he has made himself alone. His grief has made him alone. And there are so many complicated reasons why Dorian is the one he is finally, actually reaching out to now that there is no more path to shuffle down. 

I’m not sure if Orym even knows who he is anymore without this grief, without this Mission. In his mid-thirties his whole adult life has been spent married to Will, or grieving Will, or searching for answers for Will’s death. In the middle of the world ending, how do you decide what comes next?

A million episodes ago Orym offered to be the one Imogen could lean on, and then, after she walked away, he reached out to Dorian on the Sending Stone. I think Dorian has been the one Orym thought that he could lean on for a long while now. And I think that is intrinsically tied to his Mission, this journey, and his grief.

[bangtaninborderland]

MYG- Music To My Heart pt. 2

summary: you helped yoongi get past a musical block, he finally shows you the song but it was nothing like you’d expected.

part 1

It was exactly two weeks before the countdown for the song had begun, army going crazy over the teaser for the new single Dawn, yoongi had been in higher spirits ever since that night in the studio. He had even asked you to go yourself, calling your presence a blessing to his artistry.

The usual before a song release would be yoongi waiting around Hybe, either hidden in his studio or in the company of another member. Very rarely would he be home to watch a release unfold so you knew it must have been a special occasion when he stayed in the apartment with you, moving you both to the couch to join the countdown for the music video.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, nodding towards the timer on the flatscreen.

He continues to pet Holly who situated himself in between you both, paws tucked under the blanket covering your legs. “I don’t like to think too much about these things, this song is just one I particularly liked so I feel excited. It’s not like I can go back and change it.”

“You should be so proud of yourself, you worked hard for this and the fans will know that.” You shifted closer to him, hand reaching out to massage the base of his neck.

He leans into your touch, eyelids fluttering. “I’m nervous for you to see it.”

“Don’t be, did you forget I’m number one in min yoongis fan club.” You laugh lightly.

He shakes his head, not enough to disturb your soft moulding of his skin. “There’s a million people who would have different opinions.”

“Yeah, and Jungkook would be the first one in line to do that.” You sigh dramatically, causing you both to laugh.

The rapper shrugs his shoulders, smirking. “What can I say I’m an idol of idols.”

“Min Yoongi have you no shame or has it all disappeared because of the “big house, big car and big rings?”

He buried his face in his hands, flushing red with embarrassment as he laughs at the old lyrics. “Stop it.”

“Oh, it’s starting!” You shout excitedly, nudging him to face the screen. “I can’t believe you didn’t let me hear it before now.”

Regardless of your continuous badgering and occasional bribery, he wouldn’t let you hear the song, declaring you could only listen to it once the music video had been released. You’d given up after he locked you out of his studio for two days.

The soft melody began playing, the music video starts out in flashes of black white and grey. Your eyes are glued to the screen.

“Is that?” You noticed the soft humming tone he had made you record, playing over the sound of a piano.

“It’s you.” He responded, you didn’t question any further wanting to take in the entirety of the song.

The music video shows him travelling through some sort of timeline, images of the locations you’d met at and been on special dates to flickering in the background. The lyrics caused you to tear up, the words being more meaningful than anything you’d ever heard before.

“Oh, I'm runnin' round in a daze

We been walkin' so many ways

Feels like my heart's about to burst

Can't you see the take two?

Stories unfoldin' just for you

Youth with you by my side

Take my hands now”

The last verse came on and you broke, drawing in a choked breath as you pull his hand closer to you.

“It was possible because I was with you

I was happy being with you

I breathe in your voice

I stood up with your tears

Do I deserve your love?

The intersection of souls we've created over the years

I am so grateful and happy to be with you

Let's continue to be happy in the future”

You noticed the grainy picture of you two in the background, neither of your faces showing but you remembered it anyway, it was the day he had asked you out.

You wiped your face as the song came to a close, the last notes being the song you always whistled whenever you were cooking.

You’d never heard something so powerful, you’d never heard a song that held so much meaning and although you were an avid fan of the entire bts and agust d discography this was by far the most beautiful song you’d ever heard. The message being clearly a one of devotion, love and thanks. Something you often realised you’d never understand so clearly if you hadn’t met the man beside you.

As you turn to face him you realise how eyes are trained on you, you doubted he had watched a moment of the music video. “It was so beautiful.”

He ran a hand down the side of your face, wiping away a stray tear. Search the song.”

“What?” You gave him a puzzled look pulling out your phone.

As you typed the title into Naver a ton of results followed, mostly articles about the release of the song. “Now what?”

“Search the credits.” He laughed, watching your eyes.

You did as he instructed and began reading through them. You went stoic with shock as you see the word “ace” below the melody section.

When you’d first met each other he had always called you that because he said you were the ace of multitasking. Dealing with your own job and supporting him at all times whilst making him his favourite foods whenever you could.

“Yoongi I don’t know what to say it’s all so perfect.” You began crying again and this time he brought you closer to him, careful to mind the sleeping dog as he pulls your head to his neck.

“I wanted to thank you for everything these past few years. For being my best friend and accepting partner, for loving me and the members. I’ll never not be grateful to have you.” It’s only when you pull back you realise he too has tears in his eyes.

You lean in to kiss him, the action speaking louder than words. “I love you Min Yoongi.”

“I hope I can spend the rest of my life with you.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You kiss his head in return earning a smile.

“You really are something.” He laughs, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Wait until your number one fanboy Jungkook finds out you made a song about me.”

He rolls his eyes, fake groaning. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You humm, tapping your chin dramatically.“You won’t but neither will I.”

“And why is that?” He raises an eyebrow, cockily.

“Because I’m yours forever.”

[lauriegraham01]

i'll never smile again

pairings: 40s!bucky barnes x reader, nurse!reader

summary: with you and bucky away to fight in the war, you both can't wait to come back home and begin the rest of your lives together. what's left of your plans when a mission goes sideway? could you and bucky have been born so unlucky?

w/c: 1,423

c/w: takes place in CATFA, ANGST, major character death, themes of grief

a/n: this has taken me the longest to edit, not sure if im completely satisfied with the ending but it's enough. hope u enjoy, lmk if you like :)

Time of death: 14:37

You hang your head low in defeat, the death of another soldier baring on your soul. There truly was only so much that you could do. He had come in completely mutilated from barbed wire and eyes blinded form tear gas. With limited options, you and your team of fellow nurses ensured that he could be comfortable for his passing. One of the other nurses raises the white sheet to cover his face, and you gather yourself to move on to the next patient.

You had joined the army nurse corps a little over a year ago. There was news that we were loosing soldiers faster than we could kill enemies and you decided to join the war effort, believing you could do some good for your country. Nothing prepared you for the horrors you faced daily, the chaos and death that surrounded your every breath.

However you weren't alone in your pain. Your two best friends, Steve and Bucky had too joined the war. They along with the rest of the Howling Commandos were going on missions targeting Hydra bases. There was only so much they could tell you, but the little they did still left you uneasy. It just seemed so dangerous and you worried about the both of them- especially Bucky.

Bucky and you had only been dating for two years when news of the U.S. joining the war broke out. Yet after a lifetime of friendship you felt like he knew you better than anyone else in this world. You two had agreed that when the war was over, you would finally get married. These days it was your future plans with Bucky that gave you the strength to survive the war. That, along with the letters that he sent. Writing in detail about what missions he and Steve were on and how things were looking on his side of the war.

The rest of the day had passed by in a haze. By the time you returned to the nurses quarter on base, you feel the full weight of the day in the way that your back aches. Upon looking in the mirror you wince at the amount of blood that's caked into your face and hands. A shower lifts your spirits as you feel the stress from the day drain along with the water. Stepping back into the sleeping barracks, you squeeze past the crowd of nurses until you reached your cot. As you tuck your uniform away you see a letter placed on the pillow. Lifting it up with curiosity, you flip the envelope and a smile tugs at your lips.

Bucky.

You tear open the letter eagerly, it had only been a week since you had last heard from him but it felt like eternity waiting between letters. Unfolding the pages within your hand you read each line carefully, hearing his voice with each word, imagining as though he were reading it to you. As he told you about his latest mission, fear threatened to creep its way into your heart. Yet as you got to the last page, you inhaled a sharp breath- the world around you seeming to go quiet in that moment.

“Doll, I’ve done enough thinking, and I know what I want. I’ve loved you for a lifetime. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I know that there's no one else for me but you, y/n. I wish I could ask this in person but I cannot go another day without you knowing how much you mean to me. When the war is over we’ll get married and I’ll grow flowers like you, and your womb will carry the most beautiful girl in the universe. Make me the happiest man alive - will you marry me?”

You fell backwards onto your bed and closed your eyes, Bucky's words burned into your mind. Tears began to well up at your eyes as your heart soared at Bucky's proposal. Bucky wanted to build a life with you. You began to imagine your wedding day. The familiar faces that would gather to celebrate your love, what it would be like to become the mother to his children, and to be able to grow old with him. As you thought about this, you couldn't contain your excitement anymore. Hastily rising from bed, you make your way to the center of the room before grabbing the attention of your fellow nurses.

"I'm getting married!" You shouted, all the nurses turned to look at you before ensuing in cheerful screams. They all congratulated you and gave you and Bucky well wishes for the future.

As you and the nurses were still caught in the excitement of the news, you were suddenly interrupted when a knock rang on the barracks front door.

As everyone scurried to stand in formation, you felt relieved when you saw that it was Steve and Peggy who had walked through the door.

"Officer y/n, would you please come with us for just a moment?" Peggy speaks up.

Stepping out of formation, you grab your coat as you follow behind the two, stepping out in the cold winter air.

"Steve!"

"Angel." He coos as he brings you in for a hug. It had been about 8 months since you'd last seen him. While you were happy to see him, you were slightly taken aback to see him here.

"What on earth are you two doing here?" You breath out as you go to pull away from his embrace. When Steve's grip on you suddenly tightens, you're slightly confused. Looking up at Peggy and seeing the solemn look on her face you know that something was wrong.

“Steve?”

"I'll give you two a minute." Peggy excuses herself, making her way toward the field to give us some privacy.

“Steve, hey, hey, what's going on?" As he finally lets you go you look up into his eyes to see that they were glossy with tears threatening to spill over.

“Hey,” you hook a finger underneath his chin fixing his gaze from the ground onto you, "talk to me. I'm here, what's wrong?"

“It’s Bucky, he’s… he’s gone.”

A dreadful weight settles deep in the pit of your stomach as Steve looks at you in a way he's never before. So full of regret and heartache. You search his face for any type of deceit, any indication that what he said had been a terrible lie and that Bucky was alright- but to your avail you could find none.

Steve went on about the mission leading up to Bucky's final moments but it fell on deaf ears as your mind was anything but tethered to this reality.

"No, no." You mumble underneath your breath as you stumble backwards a bit.

"Woah-hey," Steve grabs a hold onto you, steadying your grounding. "I'm so sorry y/n."

“He can’t be gone," your voice comes out strained in a high pitch, "he just can’t be.” Your vision blurred as the crushing weight of reality settled within your head and within your heart.

Bucky was gone- for real this time. There was no rescuing him, there was no saving him.

You felt Steve wrap his arms around you as you buried your head into his chest. That seemed to be the tipping edge as before you knew it a sob began to wrack out of your lips. You cried for all the plans you've made. For the memories and time now stolen from you.

"We were supposed to get married." You manage to choke out between ragged breaths.

"I know, angel," he said softly. "I know."

When you returned to the barracks, it was lights out and you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up from this terrible nightmare. You found it cruel how the last time you were within these walls you were an engaged woman, and now you return a widow. Memories of Bucky plagued your every thought as your own grief made you restless, sleep evading you.

Bucky and you had shared a lifetime of memories. Growing into the versions of yourselves that both of you had come to love. Now they'll forever be a hole left where the rest of the story should have been written. When you return home, you'll return a widow. You'll never be able to hold him, to touch him, to marry him, have a family with him-

"I'll never love again", you thought to yourself. "There's no getting over you."

[archtroop]

No, Israeli kids are innocent of any crimes. The same as Palestinian kids. The problem is the crazy people like you. It's funny to think that your people suffered from a Genocide once and you're now the Nazis committing Genocide. You can say to yourself whatever you want to sleep at night but the truth is what it is: it's not a war, it's not suicide (what a fucking ridiculous notion). It's genocide. Shame you're so brainwashed you can't see what's in front of you.

And yet again, no.

The only Nazis in this equation are HAMAS and their infrastructure.

Anon, you have no leg to stand on this.

Attacking a well armed state, massacring 1200+ people in one day and, what? What do you call this? What you expect to happen next?

Here is the thing. You want the big picture, I'll give you the big picture.

The Islamic Republic of Iran wants to control the Middle East. They fund proxies to ankle-bite those who threaten their supremacy in the region. Like SaudiArabia, Israel and so on by employing: HAMAS, Hezbollah, Houthies etc. They settle roots in places of discord and disarray (Lebanon, Syria...Yemen. West Bank and Gaza. Places with no functional government).

They use Israel as a scapegoat to unite under (Fascism 1.01). They call upon "The Zionist Regime" rhetoric whenever shit hits the fan and they need to blame someone with something. Oldest trick in the book.

The Abraham Accorda are designed so that USA could finally leave the Middle East. UAE and others, had already signed the accords with Isrsel to manifest a solid treaty that would hold the Jihad at bay and will eventually stabilize the region (against threats like IRI and ISIS) by means of finance, strategy and military. Two weeks or so prior to Saudi Arabia signing the accords, Iran gives a nod of approval to HAMAS. The attack on the 7th was premeditated. It was planned for years. The idea is simple: make Israel look bad so that Saudi Arabia won't be happy to sign an agreement with a "weak" country (Israel is the security part in the agreement. SA enjoyed up till recently the security US provided. With deglobalization, this deal is off), and then drag Isrsel into a bloody war in urban terrain in Gaza to make Israel look very bad so Saudi Arabia won't sign with Israel in defense of the Palestinian Cause.

Yes, it was a premeditated suicide. And all of this is a geopolitical known knowledge. Nothing in what I wrote above is new or groundbreaking.

It was never about Palestinians. Or Palestine. It was all just an excuse. All of this, we all are just pawns.

On the world scale, Gaza doesn't matter. That's the sad truth. They were used and thrown away by their leaders. Israel is holding talks with both Egypt and Saudis over how to extract the civilians from this death trap, believe it or not. Both HATE HAMAS and watch all of this unfold and waiting for Israel to declare HAMAS IS NO MORE. Egypt hates HAMAS, a tie in to the Muslim Brotherhood, that has the power to topple the Egyptian secular government (funny how the most affected by Houthies attacks are Egypt, but no one gives a crap).

Gaza is a funnel for aid money. It produces nothing, it exports nothing. They are meaningless on the world map. That's the sad truth. By making Gaza absolutely dependent on UN aid (that never actually used for aid, but to cushion up HAMAS leaders), you have a society that cannot support itself in any way. They don't even have political allies. They are pawns.

Hate HAMAS. Hate IRI.

Or you can hate Israel, the only place where Palestinians from West Bank and Gaza could actually work and get paid. Now they don't have even that.

You know what's the cruelest joke? The accords are on talks and are progressing. There is a route of merchandise that goes right through Saudi Arabia and to Israel and Egypt, by trucks.

All of this. Was for nothing.

It's called Terrorism for a reason.

So, I guess whatever makes you sleep better. Jews did not survive the Holocaust to lie down and take it when another one is knocking on the door.

After the 7th, my emphaty dulled by a huge margin. That you cannot take back. Even symphaty has an expiration date.

There is no Genocide in Gaza. There is a Suicide on a national scale, and that's the harsh truth. And it didn't even make a lick of difference.

The only hope people in Gaza have, is to wake up without HAMAS. And it WILL happen.

Whether you like it or not.

[jerseyshoresy]

I Pucking Love You

ANGST, FLUFF

Request for @laserotters ! Reader joins beer league hockey team--never having played the sport. Reilly and Jonesy lend their support, but will it be enough to impress Coach and capture his heart?

Coach x gn!reader

Warnings: language, some suggestive conversation

"What the fuck was I thinking?"

You muttered under your breath as you heard the slams of bodies against glass, your heart plummeting. This was a beer league, right? Why was everyone being so aggressive right now? You were watching your first game as a real hockey player unfold from the bench, not yet being put on the ice due to being the newest member of the team. You were tense as you fiddled with the laces of your skates, making sure they were tight for whenever you were sent into the game. You hadn't told anyone you were a complete rookie when you eagerly agreed to joined the league, your mouth and heart taking over the reigns when your head should've won the battle to keep you quiet. Instead, you had managed to make a complete fool of yourself in a matter of a few days and screw up the one good thing you had going for you. You took another nervous sip of your beer as your eyes scanned the players' bench, the doorways, the crowd for one person in particular—Coach.

The whole reason why you were here in the first place.

But you didn't know if he was going to show up to play, like he was supposed to, or watch from the sidelines and support you, like you wanted him to, after everything that had transpired yesterday. You wished with all your might that Coach believed in you as much as he once said he did.

Your team coach's voice pulled you out of your daydreams. "Y/n! You're going! Get in there!"

You gulped as you gripped your hockey stick tight, your knuckles pulsating under your gloves.

Here goes nothing.

“We’re looking for players for our beer league hockey team. You in?”

Coach had approached you three weeks ago while you were in MoDean’s, hanging out with your friends Jonesy and Reilly.

You almost choked on your drink in surprise but tried to hide it as quickly as possible. "Who? Me?"

You were a bumbling, lovesick mess when Coach spoke with you, walked near you, or even just looked your way. You'd had the biggest crush on the man for years but never wanted to make a move in case he wasn't over the death of his ex wife, Barb, yet. You would much rather yearn from afar than ever risk disrespecting him on accident. However, your refusal to admit your feelings was causing you to be on edge every time Coach was around, making you an anxious wreck.

"Yes, you," Coach said expectantly. "These two idiots are already signed up but we're looking for more talent. I'd love to get you on the ice if you're available."

"O-oh! Yes, sure! I love hockey," you said, your words tumbling from your throat. "When do we start?"

"Perfect! First game is in three weeks. There's practices Saturday and Sunday afternoons, but they aren't mandatory. It's a beer league so you can rely on any hockey skills you've learned from the past and you'll do fine." He clapped you on the shoulder and you tried your best to not keel over from his warm touch.

"Can't wait to see you in the barn, y/n."

"Right, yes, of course. Sounds great," you said as enthusiastically as possible, Coach giving you a small smile before walking away. Reilly and Jonesy exchanged glances with each other before turning their attention toward you, confused looks on their faces.

"Y/n... you've never played hockey," said Reilly.

"You've never even ice skated. That's, like... unreal for anyone in Letterkenny," Jonesy piped in, Reilly nodding in agreement.

"You guys are making me feel so much better." You rolled your eyes. "Besides, I have a few weeks! I can learn all I need to know, right?"

"Not quite."

"Definitely not."

Your friends' voices merged as they made their wariness at your decision known.

"You guys were great at hockey and you're already on the team. Can't you teach me some moves? We can practice every day from now until the first game. Please?" You gave them your best puppy dog impression but they, surprisingly, weren't moved.

"Why don't you ask Coach to teach you? That way, you two can spend some alone time together." Jonesy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Then you can finally ask him out," Reilly suggested, making Jonesy high five him.

"Great idea, boys. Y/n can learn some sick moves and get a sweetie. Sounds like a great plan, boys."

"They'll get hockey sticks in both senses of the word, boys."

"Y/n can hit the puck then hit up Coach to fu-"

"Enough!" you exclaimed, embarrassed by what your friends were shamelessly saying in the crowded bar. "I get what you mean. I don't want Coach to know that I'm new to hockey and if I ask him to teach me, my secret is out. Can you guys please just help me out this one time? If I score in my first game, I promise I'll ask Coach out."

"That'll be two scores for y/n in one night, boys!" yelled out Jonesy, Reilly jumping up and down in excitement with his best friend. You finished your drink and paid your tab to Gail, not wanting to waste time at MoDeans any longer. You had hockey equipment to buy.

Your first practice was a total disaster. The simple task of ice skating was proving to be a lot more difficult than you thought, let alone trying to multitask staying upright while watching a puck fly around and doing your best to guard it from your personal trainers. You went home that day completely dejected until you thought of Coach and how happy he would be seeing you score a point. The potential of being the one to make him scream in happiness during the game was a strong incentive for you to return to the rink the next day, ready to give it your all. By the time the first team practice came about at the end of the first week of your private training, you were confident in your abilities to at least skate well enough while wielding your stick. You were competent enough at the sport now to where your teammates thought you hadn't played in a while but were getting back into it slowly but surely.

The second week of your training with Reilly and Jonesy went tons better than your first week and you were actually getting excited for the team practice to better hone your skills. Saturday's team practice was the best you had done, proving you could take a hit from someone without falling over and losing control of the puck. Sunday's practice, though, was one for the books. Coach made an appearance and your heart was hammering through your uniform. He looked so handsome in his hockey gear, a far cry from the suit he usually wore while coaching. You liked seeing this side of him, infinitely more relaxed while playing the game he loved deeply. You were honored when he chose to partner with you for drills but you found it hard to focus on the task at hand every time you spied Coach's muscles bulging from under his sleeves or when his plush lips spoke your name to get your attention. When you did focus on hockey, though, you were able to keep up with Coach's pace and found yourself on the receiving end of many compliments from your friends and teammates alike, igniting a fire inside you to keep working harder. You were dead set on gaining the skills needed to get that puck in the net during the game, if not only as a promise to yourself to finally ask Coach on a date, but as a testament to your dedication to hockey and unwavering determination in the face of a daunting task.

The third and final week of training before the big game had Jonesy, Reilly, and you practicing your abilities to shoot the puck into the net when there were obstacles to maneuver around. They took turns guarding you, as well as the net, successfully blocking you from making a shot all throughout the week, but by the time Friday came around, you had outsmarted and out skated the both of them, smacking the puck into the net and earning cheers and hugs from your closest friends as you celebrated your achievement.

"That's all we can teach you," said Reilly, "now you just have to remember all of this stuff when you're actually playing."

"But we know you'll do great out there. You had the best teachers after all." Jonesy pointed at himself and Reilly while you let out a laugh.

"Thanks for all your help, guys, I really appreciate it. I would've been completely at a loss without your guidance and hockey expertise."

"Hockey expertise? That's my middle name. Actually, according to my birth certificate it's not, but it should be."

Coach's voice boomed from the doorway behind you, making you jump at the unexpected, but very much welcome, visitor. Reilly and Jonesy packed up their gear and made a quick exit, not-so-subtly hinting at you to enjoy your alone time with Coach by making hearts with their hands and kissy faces. Coach was none the wiser at the shenanigans happening behind his back, which you were grateful for.

"So, what was it those boys were teaching you? If you need more help, I'm here to practice if you'd like to join me."

Even with the cold air of the ice rink enveloping you, you felt your face warm at his willingness to spend time with you. You told him what you and the boys were up to earlier and he hummed in approval.

"I like that you're prioritizing scoring. That's a real winner's attitude, I like that about you."

You tried not to let his phrasing get to your head because you needed to keep a clear mind during this practice, but you couldn't help but feel giddy at the fact that Coach complimented you so freely. No one else seemed to get that treatment; did he have feelings for you that ran deeper than friendship? It was much too early to guess at that, but no matter what, his words meant a lot to you since he was extremely honest so you knew he meant what he said.

"Why don't you show me what you got and I can see what needs improving?"

You nodded and drew in a breath, recalling everything you learned over the past weeks. As you skated around, puck flying across the ice, you did your best to avoid getting blocked by the various hazards placed by Coach as well as Coach himself. He was impressively fast and quite nimble in his skates, not leaving much room for you to find an opening to lob the puck into the net. After a few failed attempts, Coach stopped you for a moment.

"Can I show you a better way to hold the stick while you shoot?"

"Please do, this is getting frustrating."

Coach smirked. "That means I'm doing my job well. I want to see you succeed at the game tomorrow, though, so you have to make sure you can keep calm to barrel through anyone who gets in your way."

"You're right. I get in my own head too much, too often. I just have to have trust in my skills and I know I can do it."

Coach was now standing to your side, holding his hockey stick out. "Put your hands like this... no, like this... yeah, sort of? Keep them lined up like this."

His demonstration was hard for you to understand exactly how your hands should be resting on the stick, but before you could express more of your frustrations, Coach caught you by surprise for the second time that day.

"Would you mind if I move your hands with my own?"

"That's fine," you squeaked out, anxiously awaiting his now ungloved hands to rest on top of your own. His soft skin made contact with you as he gently moved your hands to grip the stick in a new position. You didn't want to know how flustered you looked at that moment. You felt like your entire brain shut down and you forgot how to function as a human for a second, too involved in the lovely feeling of his hand on yours. The proximity was killing you as he held you close, the slight smell of cologne wafting into your nose and making you never want to experience another scent in your life but that one. When he finally let go, your hands felt empty in a way you'd never known before. However, you shook off the feelings of heartache for the man who was so close yet so far from you in favor of whacking the hell out of the black disc in front of you.

"Just remember, be quick and precise with it! You'll want to-"

You cut him off with a slam of the stick on the puck as it went whizzing past him and into the net with breakneck speed.

"Like that?" you asked, a cheeky smile on your face.

"Just like that," breathed out an astounded Coach. "What a great shot. You're a fantastic player. Do that tomorrow and we'll have no problem winning."

"Yay! That's what I was hoping for," you told him, taking a swig from your water bottle. You both decided that you had enough practice, not wanting to over exert yourselves before tomorrow's game. You two sat on the bench together, shedding your skates and talking about your hockey journeys. You heard how Coach got started playing and why he's so passionate about the game, and it made you happy knowing that he trusted you enough to delve into such personal topics. It was now your turn to divulge your history, or lack thereof, with the sport, and you tried your best to be honest but not totally spill your secret. However, Coach's presence relaxed you too much and you found yourself speaking much too freely.

"It's hard to believe I figured this all out just in these past three weeks," you sighed dreamily, your chin resting in your hands as you observed the ice. All of a sudden, your eyes widened in realization of what you said. You prayed Coach didn't catch what you uttered, but you weren't so lucky. You reluctantly turned your head toward him and were met with a look of pure incredulity on his face.

"Wait, what did you just say?"

You wished you could lie your way out of this but it was impossible. You screwed up, big time, and now you have to own it.

"I didn't want to tell anyone that I'd never played before because I really wanted to be on the team," you said sheepishly, "but I have the skills I need for the game, all thanks to Jonesy, Reilly, and you, of course."

Coach didn't seem any bit convinced. "You're telling me that the game is tomorrow and you think you can survive out there after never having played hockey? Are you out of your mind?"

"It's a beer league, Coach, not the NHL," you argued. You were upset that he wasn't taking your progress seriously. He had said himself that you were a great player--why did it matter that you hadn't hashed it out with strangers when you were capable of holding your own against your teammates in practice matches?

"It may be a beer league, y/n, but you're still gonna get crushed out there. Absolutely pummeled. I'm not allowing you on the ice for a few games at least."

"I am an adult, you can't tell me what I can and can't do." Your tone was tinged with venom.

"I am a coach and I know what players should and shouldn't do."

Coach, in his anger, was leaned in toward you, his face infiltrating your personal space. You would've been elated to be so close to him at literally any other time but this. You huffed in annoyance while Coach's peeved expression stayed trained on you as you backed up and crossed your arms in defiance, neither of you saying anything but your expressions were doing all the talking. The large, empty rink was presently feeling much too small as you stared into Coach's narrowed brown eyes.

"I don't need this from you. I'm going home. See you tomorrow."

You grabbed your bag and walked away as fast as your legs could move you without looking too pathetic.

Now it was game day and Coach was nowhere to be found. No one had heard from him all day so it was assumed he wasn't playing. With another person out due to sickness, that meant the team had just the right amount of players to rotate you in and allow you some time on the ice.

Which is where you were now.

Literally on the ice because some jerk on the other team slammed into you.

"This isn't the NOSHO, asshole, take it easy," you grumbled, quickly getting up and back into the game. It was halfway through the third period with still no sign of Coach, and you resigned to the fact that he stood you all up. You were disappointed, to say the least. What was his problem? You didn't explicitly lie to anyone and you were able to (mostly) hold your own on the ice. There was no reason for Coach to be this upset at you for something so silly! You shook your head to clear your thoughts. There was no time to care about something like that when you had a game to win.

By the time the last minute was shown on the board, the teams were tied for points. You still hadn't scored your own point, but you were helping the other members of your team score by blocking players and passing the puck back and forth. For it being your first game, you weren't doing horribly. Jonesy and Reilly were by your side a good portion of the time to encourage and support you, making your heart swell with joy at knowing your friends always had your back.

If only my crush was the same way, you thought to yourself.

The puck had made it back into your possession as the clock quickly counted down. You were skating fast and hard down to the net, utilizing your training to avoid the players actively trying to block you. You sped around them, completely focused on the monumental task in front of you.

"SLAM IT IN! SHOW 'EM HOW IT'S DONE!"

Coach?!

You were stunned to see his figure up against the glass, slamming on it with his palms. His arrival was enough to kick yourself into gear, ready to prove your worth as a hockey player. You took in deep breath, making sure your hands were positioned just like Coach taught you. Without hesitation, you brought your stick back and rammed it forward right as you got hit from behind by an opposing team member. The puck went flying through the air and landed neatly behind the goalie as the buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game.

You just won!

As the crowd went wild, your teammates rushed over to you, cheering for your impressive game winning move. The exciting moment of victory was over as quick as it began, the rink clearing out in a hurry as people had better things to do on a Saturday afternoon than celebrate a beer league hockey game. It was once again quiet as you collected your things, ready to get home and take a much needed shower. You were currently putting your skates in your bag when familiar shoes entered your vision.

"Why weren't you here earlier, Coach?" you asked, hesitating to meet his eyes out of disappointment, but your love for him was stronger than your dismay. "We were all worried."

His brown eyes held an uncharacteristically soft gaze toward you as he spoke.

"I couldn't stand to see you potentially get hurt and not be able to protect you," he confessed, a blush lighting up his face, "but that's all part of the game, I guess. I thought it was best for me to sit this one out and let you experience hockey as it should be. I wish you would have told me you never played before so I could have taught you everything you needed to know to stay safe out there but... it seems like Jonesy and Reilly really pulled through for you. You played well today, I'm proud of you, y/n."

You didn't know what to say. You couldn't fathom that was the reason Coach didn't want you to play. The normally brash, aggressive man was standing in front of you, blushing, meeker than a mouse, and telling you he wanted to protect you. Did that mean...?

"I really like you," you blurted out. "I have for the longest time and I promised myself I would ask you on a date if I scored today so that's what I'm doing. Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

If you were shocked at Coach's admission of why he was MIA most of the day, he was triple the amount of shocked at your question-- you could tell by the way his mouth hung open before he sputtered out an answer.

"Oh! Well, I haven't been on a date since my beloved Barb left me alone on this earth... but I like you too, y/n. A lot. I'd love to join you on a date."

You exhaled a sigh of relief. "Wanna meet at MoDean's later tonight? I heard it's open mic night."

Coach's eyes lit up. "I'll bring my ukulele. See you there?"

"See you there," you said in agreement, a wide smile never leaving your face. You would have never thought that this day would come, but you were overjoyed that you gained the confidence to ask out the Coach of your dreams. Tonight would be the perfect ending to the perfect day.

You'd better pucking believe it.

[chaotictarlos]

🤍 white 🤍

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos and paperstorm | read on ao3

Rating: Explicit | Warnings / Tags: Canon Compliant, Bottom TK Strand, Lace Panties, m x m smut, TK Strand in panties, m x m smut,

Summary: He sets his breakfast down, taking a sip of coffee before he gently pulls the box closer to the edge of the table. He lifts the lid and finds himself a little breathless, for a moment, as he sees what’s inside. Laid out neatly against white tissue paper is one of the most beautiful and delicate things Carlos has ever purchased for him. The white lace seems to glow up from the box, taking TK’s breath away as he reaches out and ghosts his fingers over the material. It’s soft, with that slight roughness that Carlos knows TK loves so much. It’s perfect, a beautiful piece of clothing that for a moment TK doesn’t think he deserves to own but that thought is quickly replaced by how lucky he feels to have a fiance who buys him pretty things like this. It’s perfect for TK in every meaning of the word. TK lifts it; the bodysuit unfolds as he does so that he can see the full length of it, in all its softness and delicately stitched patterns.

Part 5: Wedding night

Author's Note: Writing with Andie has been such a joy. There is something that is so elegant about her writing that pushes me to write on another level and I think this series has helped me to become a better writer. This series was something I needed and I've had the most fun writing it and getting to chat and become friends with Andie. We wrote this fic together, you'll see touches of both of us throughout the fic and I am so excited to see what everyone thinks about it. @paperstorm I can't wait to see what we create together again. Thank you for the joy of writing and thank you for writing with me.

Read: Turquoise | Pink | Yellow | Purple

--

TK stretches as his eyes slowly open. He inhales deeply, pushing his arms down and rolling his shoulders and then relaxing back into the mattress. He’s warm and still half-asleep, and for a moment or two he floats on that cloud. Then he inhales again, and a little more with it, he notices he’s alone in the bed.

Mid-morning sunlight streams in through the windows, creating patterns on the quilt, and TK lifts his head enough to catch a glimpse of the clock radio on Carlos’ side of the bed.

It’s almost 9:30. Carlos had to work today; TK didn’t, and TK is a heavy sleeper but not that heavy. Not heavy enough to sleep through Carlos’ entire morning routine. Carlos must have taken great care to be quiet as he showered and got ready and ate breakfast and left the loft, so that TK could sleep.

TK is stuck halfway between grateful and disappointed. Grateful because he’d worked overtime yesterday and needed the extra rest, and it’s sweet that Carlos hadn’t wanted to wake him. Disappointed because every moment he doesn’t get to spend with Carlos still feels like a waste, and he would have liked to have been kissed goodbye. TK can’t believe, after all this time, how much he likes his fiancé. How much Carlos is still, unwaveringly, the person TK would rather do absolutely nothing with than do the most exciting thing in the world with anyone else.

He stretches again and feels a pleasant ache of his muscles. They’d made a deal. No sex the week before the wedding. Carlos had laughed in his face when TK had pointed out some people abstain for weeks or even months, just to heighten their desire and anticipation so their wedding night is one to remember. Carlos bet TK couldn’t last one week, let alone more than that. TK had grinned at him and made that bet. It doesn’t really matter. Either he loses, and he gets sex sooner, or he wins, and their wedding night is spectacular. TK feels like they both come out on top either way.

The night before, Carlos had made such tender, passionate, thorough love to him that TK sort of does think he’ll be able to make it to the wedding, because he thinks he’ll carry those memories with him in every step he takes for the next seven days. He smiles to himself, blushing even though he’s alone and momentarily burying his face in the soft cotton pillowcase, and the phantom memories of the way Carlos had looked at him as he fucked TK through three orgasms. There haven’t been many in TK’s life who can make him blush. Carlos can. But TK returns that favor.

It’s then that he notices the little piece of paper folded and resting in the center of Carlos’s pillow. TK presses his lips together and reaches for it, propping himself up on his elbow and unfolding the page. In Carlos’ characteristically neat handwriting, it says Morning baby. Hope you slept well. One week – ONE WEEK!!! – until I get to call you my husband. Enjoy your day off. Pamper yourself for me.

READ MORE ON AO3

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes @meditating-honey-badger @paperstorm @otter-love-asl @kiloskywalker @angeltk @firstprince-history-huh @brouill3r @sanjuwrites

[respectthepetty]

Since I decided the best way to make it through Our Skyy 2 with minimal damage is to drink my way through it, welcome to the sixth round of

CockTails in the Skyy!

This week's drink is Deja Brew since we just saw this group six days ago:

dark coffee for our "tough" boss

vanilla brandy for the boss's babe

soy milk and ice for the men holding it together Tubtab and Jack

whipped cream and chocolate shavings for the disgustingly sweet Three and Zo

I don't like coffee, I didn't like the series, and I don't think I'll like this, but I like brandy, I'm obsessed with how Cher says "Boss" and anything that gets me more ThreeZo and Jack is worth watching.

Bottoms up!

What in the Tom, Dick, and Harry is happening?!

Call him honey, darling, or DADDY! <- Aoi gets it!

Cher feeding Gun who has a visible mustache shadow is hitting a sweet spot.

This is what upsets me - JimmySea and ForceBook have the domestic chemistry down. They excel at, yet had the wildest plots to work with. I hope Last Twilight and Only Friends do these men justice.

The yellow writing that keeps popping up is throwing me off.

Nice to see the wild ass color scheme is still going strong here, Reon!

The friend group is the reason I showed up every week!

Zo threatening his man while smiling is why I love him the most-est.

Cher made that imaginary intern very cute, but we all know Gun, who doesn't like skinship, would not touch that man like that.

Aoi getting more screen time this outing makes me upset that I didn't get MORE of her in the series. She was the best officemate.

I wonder how the office feels about Cher being ridiculous during office hours when he doesn't even work there. I'd be entertained, honestly, because I love other people's drama.

Okay, this is the tough boss I waited to see the entire series! Where was this jerk for twelve episodes?!

The entire office is really asking Cher to get his man together before they Julius Caesar his ass.

Cher constantly wearing Gun's colors is warming my ice cold heart.

I would love to believe that Gun doing 500 sit-ups is unrealistic, but then I remember Force's body-ody-ody and . . . do what you gotta do to maintain, sir.

I've written this before, but Force looks like a marble statue, and I need him to be in a BL about gym bros. Book can play the guy looking to get fit, and Force can be his trainer. Don't let those arm veins go to waste, GMMTV!

Gun is smiling like a ventriloquist, and it's creepy af.

Y'all, I'm really liking this installment. It's the Vice Versa one all over again. What are they going to do to eff this up?

Cher to Gun - "Are you finished or are you done?"

Why is everyone acting sus at this dinner?

I'm clutching my pearls that Cher's bright idea was to have Three and Zo fight.

I'm so conflicted. I want to be upset, but now Gun just gave Cher jewelry! Then Gun was cocky, and Cher slapped him on the ass. I like this.

The Deja Brew has too much caffeine and I feel my heart beating (I don't like reminders that I have a heart), so I'm gonna be a sober seahorse for the second episode. I'm already regretting this.

Moving into Cher's tiny apartment with this small tub thing instead of Gun's apartment with that huge ass tub was a dumb decision.

Every part of me hopes Gun acts just as amusing as Cher in the office.

Deadass, if I worked in this office with a boss whose boyfriend was this entertaining, I would be thriving. I would never have to drink another drop of water because these antics would keep me hydrated.

Jack has no fucks to give about this role-play situation unfolding during his billable hours.

Did this man have confetti in his pocket for this exact moment?! I'm telling you that I'd be living my best life in this office!

If I was that security guard, I would NOT have paid that 80 baht for Gun. Boss man does not need my hourly wage.

You'd be a custard apple or a pomegranate cause you're being extra! <-I'm using this because I love good commentary about *fruits*

I can't keep writing this, but I genuinely like this! Cher slamming his hand on the table and Gun immediately babying him. Urgh! I'm pleased!

This is giving me What's Wrong with Secretary Kim vibes.

Something keeps happening with the lighting to make the guys seem angelic, and I want to know what pressure the lighting department was under to make this work under these conditions.

I have been a vegetarian for over two decades, yet my meat-eating friends are the picky eaters, so I pop off like Gun just did every time I have to order them food. Why is the order so complicated?! Why three different places?!

Gun having printer and copier issues is the office drama I crave.

"That last sentence was lit." - GMMTV's translators deserve a raise.

Oh my gosh! WHERE IS PORSCHE?!

Aoi gets where I'm coming from. She is not going to let her boss and his boyfriend ruin her happiness. In fact, she embraces the chaos.

Cher is playing with Gun's face, and I'm going to fully admit that I liked this entire installment. They even exchanged colors!

The game idea is actually kinda okay-ish.

This role-playing unlocked a kink in Gun because now he wants to receive and give regularly-scheduled commands. Okay, sir, I see you.

Cher's shirt reads "Error Since Birth" and I LOVE IT!

I'm shocked and appalled about what I'm about to do. I thought I was going to be upset watching this, but I really enjoyed it. The color-coding (that I hated during the show) was consistent here unlike the other previous installments (Vice Versa, The Eclipse, and My School President), the repartee between Cher and Gun never missed, and their chemistry was good as usual. There was no Porsche, we didn't find out about Jack's previous relationship, and I'm pissed we didn't get THIS during the actual series, so . . .

8/10 CockTails for giving me most of what I wanted long after I wanted it.

Now, BRING ME MY SLUTS!

And before anyone asks, I'm in a long-term committed relationship with Pat's hair. That's how much I love it.

[allylikethecat]

hi ally!! how was your day??? today at work i went down to get my lunch plate and it was A PASTA BAR with a warm rolls on the side and cookies, my day was fucking made. i do thipnk it’s quite ironic that our drug reps are giving us nothing but carbs and sugar but hey you only live once haha

ok now for tuesdays update: if i’m being honest i haven’t really been keeping up to date w ducklings cause im usually not the target audience for mpreg but when i saw the update i read the last chapter and todays and omg i’m living for the drama and i can’t believe george finally found out!! it was def not the reaction i was expecting i feel like we never really get to see an angry george but he is righfully angry with matty for keeping that secret. i liked seeing that side of fictional! george. i can’t wait to see how this unfolds and if reconciliation will happen sooner or later in the story

ok last thing and thanks for reading all the way through 😭 for talk shop tuesday what’s a fic you’ve been reading or thinking about lately from another writer (1975 related or not) also—is it weird that i had a dream the other night and infection!verse matty was just chilling in my dream??? it wasn’t even a dream ABOUT an ally fic, fictional! matty was just a character in my dream😭😭

-🥤

HELLO MY DEAR SMOOTHIE ANON!! THANK YOU FOR SENDING SUCH A WONDERFUL DETAILED ASK! I apologize for the novel I have written you in response.

I can't complain about my day, it was extremely hot out but work was good and I had a nice ride with Pop after! He wasn't impressed by the heat but we took lots of walk breaks and he got a nice cold shower after. OMG a PASTA BAR?! That is amazing even if the fact that it came from a drug rep is hilarious. I'm happy to hear you had a good day!

AHH thank you so much for reading the new chapter even though mpreg isn't usually your thing (which very valid I know it is not a thing for a lot people and I like am a huge fan of the whole 'not for me, don't read' thing ) but like thank you for checking it out anyway! But yes!! It was the big one! Fictional!George now knows Fictional!Matty's secret and him finding out did NOT go well. Not going to lie, I think some of the nastiness of ATKH Fictional!George seeped into Ducklings!George a little bit there 😬 But at the same time, I feel like most of my Fictional!George's have a little bit of an angry edge to them? He's kind of an asshole in ATKH and in the Infection Verse he and Fictional!Matty really went through it and were at each other's throats for a while there after they broke up? Idk but I guess for the most part I do usually write him as pretty sweet and patient and understanding.I also will say, his anger and reaction was based on a lot of self doubt and self hatred that he then projected onto fictional!Matty. I am excited to continue unraveling their story - Fictional!Matty is going to make it much worse before it gets better lol

OOooo Talk Shop Tuesday! Recently I've really enjoyed @sundrownsthehouse's new chapter of Take This Pain and Give it A Name I am SO EXCITED to see where it goes! As always, I am also continually obsessed with @vinylandcoffeecollection's Poses Series, the newest installment You and Me Together Song is absolutely brilliant and I cannot wait to see how it continues to unfold!

I also love that Infection Verse Fictional!Matty has invaded your thoughts so much that he's now an extra background character in your dreams lol welcome to my life he is always looming on the edges shouting "PAY ATTENTION TO MEEEE" lol

Thank you for sending this ask and for reading and being just generally so lovely! I hope your Tuesday was fantastic and that you have a wonderful rest of your week!

❤️Ally

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Five: This Will Be The Day (Finale)

Warning: this series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing.

Summary: Everyone has returned but the battle for humanity against Thanos wages on.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You wake in a coughing fit, the rubble surrounding you sears your lungs. “Natasha.” You call into the rocks and flickering lights. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Natasha!”

“Here, I’m here.” Her voice is rough, pained.

You push yourself toward the sound, through the dust you can make out her hair. “You ok?”

“Mostly.” She’s laying face up, a few scratches visible.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I can’t move.” She nods at the piece of collapsed cement. “My leg is broken, you should go.” Nat says, staring up at the sky.

“I should’ve never let you go to Vormir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You try uselessly to budge the blockage over her leg.

“What is Vormir?” She asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “How much do you remember?”

“The red room.”

“Do you remember getting out?”

“No one gets out.” She shakes her head.

“We did.” You inform her. “Yelena did.”

“Yelena?” Her gaze finds yours. “You know Yelena? Is she here?”

“Yes, I know her.” You press your lips together. “She’s not here though.”

“The rest of this building is coming down. If you were really trained in the red room you have to know that.” Natasha frowns. “You need to leave.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t be a hero.” She whispers. “Let me go, it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not.” You argue. “I won’t do it again.”

“What about Yelena?” Natasha gives you a pointed look.

“She’ll understand.” This is what she would do.

“Hey,” Natasha pushes herself up on her elbows. “Would it be a good thing or a bad thing if a giant man in a metal suit carrying a smaller man and a raccoon appeared behind your head?”

You turn toward the man in question. Scott Lang. “It would be a good thing.”

———————————————————————

Natasha is taken somewhere safe. She can’t fight.

As the strange doctor and his disciples start opening portals you see that you’re not alone. Through one comes Alexei, Melina and Yelena.

Her white suit is pristine, dirty blonde hair held away from her face in ponytails.

On shaky legs you move toward her, taking your rightful place at her side. Facing what lies ahead together.

Yelena catches your hand, “this isn’t much of a welcome home.”

You can’t help but laugh, “pretty cool way to die though.”

“Very,” she agrees. “Natasha?”

“She is a little worse for wear.” You warn her, “but alive…and safe.”

Yelena gives you a watery smile, squeezing your fingers. “And you?”

“A tower fell on me.”

“Of course it did.”

Thanos’ army is nothing to scoff at. Giant airborne creatures hover over his troops. Larger monsters stand in their ranks, space ship overhead ready to destroy.

Steve is almost unrecognizable, covered in dirt, his shield battered and broken. But you know it is time when he gives the order. “Avengers, assemble.”

Fighting is easy, it’s what you know. What you were trained to do. Fight to stay alive, fight for what you believe in, fight with Yelena; for Yelena.

The two of you move together like a well oiled machine. Like riding a bike, even after all this time you could never forget.

“We’ve got company to the left.” Yelena says through gritted teeth, kicking at the alien creature beside her. Dropping an empty cartridge to the ground and reloading her gun seamlessly, firing several shots.

Despite everyone’s best efforts they just keep coming. “Do we have a plan here?”

“Getting there,” Steve replies. “Anybody have eyes on the gauntlet?”

“Yeah!” Clint rushes past you with the glove in hand. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Get it out of here!” Tony insists.

“What’s happening?” Alexei shouts over the chaos. “I still don’t have ear piece.”

“Just keep their army away from that guy in the tank top.” You grunt, falling backwards from the force of one of Thanos’ soldiers colliding with you.

“We have to get the stones back where they came from.” Rhodey reminds everyone.

“The time space tunnel is completely collapsed.” Tony points out.

“That isn’t our only time machine.” Lang cuts in.

“Does anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” Captain America’s voice hums through the ear bud.

“I do,” a female voice chimes in. “But you’re not going to like where it’s parked.”

After grappling for far too long, you manage to knock the creature from you. Using your knife to dismember it.

“Next time, we get the cool laser guns.” Yelena yells loud enough to be heard by everyone on the network, as she hauls you to your feet.

“Friday, please add laser guns for the ballerinas to my grocery list.” Stark gives his smart ass remark.

“What’s the word on the van?” Rhodey wonders.

“Working on it now.”

The ship at Thanos’ disposal begins raining fire, no regard for their own troops.

“We’ve got people going down!” Rocket hollers.

“Clint,” you call into the microphone. “How’s that gauntlet?”

“Moving down the field.” The archer replies, “I’m alright too, thanks for asking.”

“Good.” You bite back a smile.

Hell continues breaking loose around you. Glowing circular orbs unfold in the air above, providing coverage from the missiles. You’re not sure if this is winning or losing. It feels like a bit of both.

———————————————————————- Thanos and his army are dusted away. Leaving you surprised and still swinging as the shock wears off.

You won. You. Won.

And you lost.

You lost Tony Stark. The man you’d barely known, but offered you clarity that will stay with you forever.

You lost the Natasha you’d come to know over the five years that Yelena was gone. Some parts of the redhead stripped away for the price of the stone.

But she’s still here. Waiting in the wings to be greeted by Yelena and their little makeshift family. You share a look of understanding when your eyes meet over the blonde’s shoulder.

Others come, Banner refuses to leave her side. Despite the fact that Natasha doesn’t remember him.

Clint falls to the ground at her feet. Breaking down at the sight of his friend, his family alive and well. She doesn’t remember him either, but welcomes him into her arms somewhat awkwardly.

Her expressions flicker from happy to overwhelmed. Hesitant to open herself up to the possibility that she is wanted, needed and loved.

Too confusing for the girl who only remembers the red room. Adjusting to this life will take time.

Everyone begins clearing out, their jobs finished. Rushing home to reunite with their loved ones. Tomorrow will bring about new challenges. The world is in shambles, and so are you.

Steve decides that he should be the one to return the stones. His goodbye tells you that he has a bit more in mind. But this is his life. His choices, not yours.

“Well, I guess we should head out too.” You say after a while. Your car is gone, lost in the wreckage from the explosion.

The setting sun is eclipsed, causing all of you to turn your gaze upwards just in time to see the ship’s door open.

“Is that a raccoon?” Melina asks, pointing toward Rocket.

“Do you want a ride or not?” Rocket shoots back.

“Not the avenger’s super jet, but it will do huh?” Alexei smiles, this is his dream.

“This is better!” A man’s voice carries down from the interior.

“Well,” Yelena shrugs, “if you say so.” She leads the pack up the ramp and onto the ship.

“Fanny and the pigs will be expecting dinner soon.”

“How are they?” Melina asks, “have you been taking care of them.”

“That was me!” Alexei says proudly, bending at the waist to gather Natasha into his arms. “Aye honey,” he grunts, hoisting her up. “You are only little girl in my heart.”

Nat pushes against his chest in retaliation.

“Do you mind if I hitch a ride too?” Clint asks.

“The extra stop will cost you,” Nebula stares blankly at him from her seat.

“They always do.” He remarks, trotting up the ramp.

Bruce paces at the foot of the metal grate, watching the rest of you load up. “I gotta hang back, make sure Steve gets there in one piece.”

“After what happened with Scott the first time I’d say that’s probably the best bet.” You agree, standing near the entrance.

“Yeah,” he smiles, kindly. “Keep me posted on Nat, will ya?”

“I will,” you return the smile.

“I’ll see you around.”

You nod, “I’ll see you.”

The captain of the ship introduces himself as Star-lord, and after a moment without response, Quill.

“Any requests?” He asks, finger hovering over the control panel.

Alexei creeps over to the younger man, quietly relaying a message.

“Alright,” Quill nods. Stroking the keys until a familiar set of notes ring out.

“A long, long time ago-“ The singer croons.

You let out a chuckle.

“I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance. And maybe they'd be happy for a while.”

“We’re really doing this?” Yelena puts a hand to her head, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

“But February made me shiver, with every paper I'd deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step.” The melody carries on.

“It’s your song.” Natasha turns to her sister.

“I can't remember if I cried. When I read about his widowed bride.” Melina’s eyes are far away, carried back to their years in Ohio. Before the world had been so cruel.

“Something touched me deep inside, the day the music-“

“Died.” Yelena joins in, lulling her head to the side to gage your reaction.

You sigh, all of this beyond surreal. But you allow yourself to live in this moment, because you might not get another. “So bye, bye Miss American Pie…”

“Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.” The roaring chorus of voices fills the silence you’ve grown used to. Fills the parts of you that were empty for so long. “And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye. Singin', “this’ll be the day that I die.”

“This’ll be the day that I die.” Yelena sings, her face alight with a childlike glee.

——————————————————————-

Melina, Natasha and Alexei stay with you for a while. A few weeks as Natasha heals and becomes acclimated to her life.

She claims to hate the attention, but deep down you know she’s full of it.

The Ohio house is bursting at the seams with five adults, nine pigs and one dog.

That isn’t enough to keep visitors at bay. Namely Clint, his wife Laura and their three children.

Things feel a bit off when everyone begins moving out. Alexei, Melina, and their pigs return to the farm outside of Saint Petersburg.

Natasha finds herself drawn to New York, with Bruce and the makeshift building he’s using as a lab.

You adjust to the steady thrum that is daily life, with Fanny and Yelena.

After dinner you load the dishwasher, drying your hands on the nearby tea towel before selecting a cycle.

“So how does it feel?” Yelena asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hmm?” You turn to face her.

“Being a hero.” She clarifies, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m not-“

“Oh cut the crap, Y/N. You saved the world.” Yelena narrows her eyes at you.

“I did it for you.” You say simply, because it’s true.

Yelena closes the space between you, “why?”

“You know why.” You whisper as she cups your face in her hands, gently stroking her thumb over your cheek. “It’s ok if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I’d do more for you, and worse.” She assures you. “But do you really want to spend the rest of your life fumbling around feelings in the dark when you could have someone who-“

“I want you. I only ever want you.” You beckon her closer. “Anyway I can have you, that will be enough for me.”

Sometimes wires get crossed and you want things you never have before. And she provides them before you have a chance to ask. You give back to her tenfold, so that neither glass is ever empty. That is love. True love, the only way you’ve ever known it.

“I am yours…in every way a person can belong to another.” Yelena breathes, “and then some.”

Series taglist: @jeyramarie @freeshavocadoooo @ilovewinter101 @3and30aresoultwins @yelenabelovv @miphas-trident @1800-fight-me

If you loved this series as much as I did, you can check out the prequel here!

[humanityinahandbag]

Hi, this is just to say that I absolutely love all you and @samthefrank’s Sonic Cinematic Universe (as I believe we’re calling it now) fanfics. I was so excited when I saw that you had started one launching off from the second movie with Tails and Knuckles adjusting to their new lives, and their family adjusting to them. Bookmarked the series of it and my old favourite of the many ‘Sonic realizes his friends are actually his parents’ fics at Sonic speed. You manage to make me feel exactly the right Feel at every step, and the dialogue and characterization are so in-character I hope you get hired to work on future movies on this franchise.

I have a special place in my heart for The Four Stages of Trauma Recovery, because it take such a seemingly simple premise: this character the whole fandom sees to direly need therapy gets therapy; and develops it in into something so rich and compelling. Like, you have the Sonic plot, but you also have Tom and Maddie’s own struggles as his new parents, especially Tom’s, being woven in and filtering the way they talk about the Sonic plot to the POV therapist. And then you have Alice being her own interesting, likeable character instead of just an archetypical prop to provide the therapy, who brings not just her psychological knowledge and insight, but her personality, feelings and quirks - her rivalry with Tom never fails to be entertaining. And THEN you have her personal subplot as an outsider to the movie’s events and Green Hills community, slowly unfolding the mystery of the ‘ghost’ while simultaneously trying to more directly reach the mysterious Wachowski boy. Making her the POV character is genius and probably not something I would have thought of. Can’t wait for the inevitable ‘Everything makes sense in hindsight, but what the hell kind of animal is your son?!’ reveal. So I wish you the holy trinity of time, inspiration and motivation to finish that fic… and maybe for a sequel shortly after the second movie with Alice helping Tails and Knuckles as well, hopefully in person now that she knows about the aliens? Because let’s be honest, those two need truckloads of therapy.

This ask absolutely made my entire week.

To go through each of your points;

Calling it a Sonic Cinematic Universe is perfect and I'm sure @samthefrank would agree. It makes it feel like a better version of Marvel and I love it.

This fic has such a special place in our hearts as well and we adore writing it. Chapter 3 will be out soon! Sonic realizing his place between these two brothers is difficult for him, and I am cherishing every second of it.

Four Stages of Trauma Recovery is, and always will be, one of my favorite projects in the fandom. There will be another chapter coming out soon! @samthefrank actually gave me a LOT of help workshopping ideas, and I couldn't be more ready to show you how the shit is about to hit the fan.

And to answer your question, there absolutely will be one or two chapters at the end where she gets two new clients. That's all I'll say for now, but it will definitely tie into our other Sonic fic in a way. Being a new brother is hard! Therapy sometimes helps.

Thank you SO much again for this ask. Can't wait to give y'all more stories! This is one of the reasons I love to write, because of people who are passionate readers who reach out to scream with me! ❤️❤️❤️

Have an amazing day!

[plant-flwrs]

hi love, it's me again! i just can't get enough of your writing... i'm sorry to be asking for another fic, i guess i just can't help myself. lately i've been obsessed with the fake dating thing, so i was wondering if you could write a fred x reader (basically same reader as my last request, gryffindor, same year as ron) with that? like, maybe george knows they fancy each other and makes a bet with him so they start fake datig but realise they're in love with each other? aaa thank you so much, ly

bets off // fred weasley 

masterlist!

a/n: i used the same pronouns from the last request, hope you don’t mind!! i apreciate u sm ur always so active w my fics ily <3333 this is the first thing i’ve written in a while that i’m actually proud of so i hope u guys like it :D

summary: Fred makes a bet with George that entails fake dating you for at least a month. He never expected to fall in love with you. 

(5k)

-----------

Competition was healthy. At least, that’s what Fred told himself as he looked at George’s outstretched hand, a cocky smile etching the boy’s lips. 

“Two weeks?” Fred asked, looking suspiciously at George.

“Two. Weeks.” George answered definitively, smirking at his brother. 

Fred considered this in his head. Two weeks to get you, someone who had never previously shown any romantic interest in him, to date him for at least a month. He doubted it would be hard, for he had never had any trouble getting girls to swoon for him in the past. A few winks and charming sentiments and you would be putty in his hand. With this air of confidence, he shook George’s hand.

“You idiot!” Lee, who had previously been silently watching the exchange, called from across the table, a baffled smile on his face.

George laughed, leaning back in his chair and looking at Fred like he agreed with Lee.

“What?” Fred asked, the overly confident look still littering his features.

“You can’t win with this one,” Lee explained, shaking his head, “you either piss off Ron when this goes right, you piss of Ron when this goes wrong, you come out the git for breaking a girls heart, or you come out the embarrassed git who was rejected by your kid brother’s best friend.”

“Hey,” Fred said, faking offence, “I never agreed to ask out Harry.”

George and Lee rolled their eyes, hiding smiles as they continued their homework.

Fred was not deterred by Lee’s warnings, for he had a plan to avoid all of that. He was simply going to tell you the truth.

He found you on your way to the green house, pulling you away from a Slytherin girl you were walking with.

“He just stared at her? Like he didn’t eve-” you felt an unexpected tugging, “Ah!”

You squealed, feeling your feet stumble under you for a moment as you gathered your wits again. You looked down at the hand pulling you, following it up to the face. It was Fred, which was odd, because you two were not known for pulling at each other in hallways.

“You’re going to miss Herbology!” your friend called out to you, a worried expression on her face.

“I’ll meet you there, save me a seat!” you called back to her, turning away and following Fred as he still dragged you.

“Fred? What are you doing?” you asked him, making no effort to move from his strong grip.

“Got to talk to you,” he said airily, barely looking back at you as he pulled you down an empty corridor. 

He let go of your arm, smiling down at you as you waited for him to speak. He didn’t take the hint, just looking at you.

“What did you want?” you glanced at your watch, seeing you only had a few minutes before Professor Sprout would start class.

“I have a proposition for you,” Fred drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as per usual, “what do ya say?”

You squinted your eyes at him, frowning, “I have to hear the proposition first.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, thats how propositions work.”

“I hadn’t realized,” he replied sarcastically, dropping his cool demeanor and letting some desperation seep into his voice.

“What do you want?” you repeated, slightly more annoyed.

“I may have made a bet that heavily relies on your willingness to do me a huge favor,” he said, a hopeful smile coming to his face.

“Oh god, Fred, what did you do?”

“George may have implied that I was in a dry spell when it came to girls,” he said, smirking, “and obviously that’s just not true. So, he suggested a bet to see if I still had my skills-”

“Your skills?”

“-yes my skills, would you listen?”

Fred leaned closer to you, his eyebrows raising as you rolled your eyes.

“Back to what I was saying,” he drew in a breath, dragging out this entire conversation, “George suggested a bet to see if I could still charm the ladies,” he wiggled his eyebrows and you quirked one of yours.

“Long story short-”

You interrupted again, “That was the short version of that story? Fred can’t we do this later, I’ve got class in,” you glanced at your watch. “two minutes.”

“No! Give me a second,” he ran a hand through his hair, putting his strong hands on your shoulders to keep you in place, “I made a bet with George that I could get you to fall in love with me in two weeks and date you for a month!”

You looked up at the boy, thinking he had gone off the end. He had to, either that or he was messing with you. Or maybe he had been slipped a potion of some sort.

“Fred,” you started, your kind tone giving Fred the impression you would agree to the plan, “you just waisted the very limited break I have between classes, successfully pulling me away from a very entertaining story about Snape, and probably making me late for Herbology.”

Fred groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance.

“I’m serious!” 

You pulled against Fred’s grip, but he kept you in place. His face lit up, obviously coming up with what he thought would be a great plan. He released you briefly, digging his hands in his bag and moving crumpled papers around. He pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper, brandishing it like it was a diamond. 

“This, my love, is going to get you out of Herbology this class period,” he said, unfolding the paper.

He revealed a blank piece of paper with tiny sparkles floating on the page. As he held it for a second longer, words began to form on the paper, writing something.

‘Professor Sprout,

Please excuse Y/n from Herbology this period, she came to me with a pain in her stomach and I gave her a potion to fix it. She stayed in the infirmary during the period.

-Poppy’

You had heard about these before, enchanted notes that were written in authentic handwriting and enchanted the reader to believe it, no matter what they said. Perfect for forging notes from teachers. 

You stared at the paper in awe, grabbing it from Fred’s loose grasp.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. That’s the last one I have,” he said, feeling a bit remorseful having to give it up. He had been planning to use it to get out of Ancient Runes tomorrow. 

You folded the paper again, putting it neatly in your bag and looking back at Fred.

“Alright, let’s go,” you sighed, allowing him to lead you to the great hall, through the courtyard, and out to the Quidditch Pitch where no teachers would be. 

You sat in the stands, overlooking the empty and wet field,

“You want me to date you for two weeks?” you asked, sounding reluctant.

“No,” Fred said, sounding annoyed, “I want to fake date you for a month, but we won’t start until two weeks from now.”

You squinted, looking out at the stands on the other side of the field. You were thinking about this, finding the cons to outweigh the pros.

“What’s in it for me?” you paused, hearing Fred’s groan from beside you, “I mean, this could ruin my friendship with Ron, I get the embarrassing reputation when you fake dump me in a month, I don’t see how this is benefiting me.”

“Ron won’t care, I promise you,” Fred said acting as if this was obvious, “he lets Harry ogle Ginny all the time. And as for our fake dumping, that can be totally on your terms. I just need to win the bet with George.”

“What do you get if you win?”

Fred had hoped you weren’t going to ask that, but he was realizing you were smarter than he thought.

“Three Galleons,” he lied, looking at your skeptical face in the corner of his eye, “fine, six Galleons.”

You looked expectantly at him, waiting for his offer.

“I’ll split it with you,” he finally gave in.

He was a little upset at having to share his future winnings, but once you agreed to the bet and squealed excitedly at the possibility of some Galleons, a smile spread on his face.

Fred began laying the groundwork the next day. He made sure to send you flirtatious smiles when George was looking, waving to you in the halls, and talking to you in the common room.

You, Hermione, and Ron sat at a table in the corner, the three of you poured over a chess match. Ron was successfully beating Hermione, watching her as she tried to remember the rules he had taught her over and over. 

“You can’t do that,” he said impatiently as Hermione tried to move a pawn backwards. His hand reached out and returned the piece back to where it was, and Hermione groaned.

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes and turning your head up towards the ceiling. 

“Hello,” Fred purred from above you, looking down at you.

You snapped your eyes open, not entirely used to Fred’s flirting yet. It took you by surprise most days, and he always managed to get you when you weren’t expecting it. You looked to Ron, gauging his reaction. His eyes stayed locked on Hermione’s frustrated face, arms crossed as he waited for her move.

“Hello,” you replied, turning your head to face Fred as he move to your side. 

He leaned against your chair, his hand supporting his weight as he wrapped it around the back of your chair. The top of his hip bumped into your shoulder, and you resisted the urge to lean away from him. It’s not that Fred Weasley was disgusting or anything, he certainly wasn’t, but he had a reputation. Fred wasn’t known to be faithful or respectful of the usual rules regarding relationships. He wasn’t tied down, and half the student body has seen him naked (or wanted to). You had gone through your phase of liking Fred, and that phase lasted longer than you’d like to admit. You refused to boost his ego, though, and felt determined to not let this fake dating get to your head. 

Ron was still busy with his chess match, now watching Hermione’s focused gaze turn into a nervous one as she became aware of Ron’s eyes on her. She bit her lip, tapping her fingers on the table.

Fred glanced down at you, quirking an eyebrow and nodding his head towards Ron. He was showing you that Ron wouldn’t care if you two dated, testing Ron’s limits.

Fred’s hand moved slowly from the back of your chair to your shoulder. His slender fingers pressed gently on your clothed arm, moving to brush a piece of hair from your neck. He twirled a piece of your hair in his fingers, raising an amused eyebrow at Ron’s lack of reaction.

“Merlin, Hermione! I’ve taught you 100 times!”

Hermione scoffed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“Ron!” she exclaimed back, offended.

“Look,” he moved his hand to one of her pieces. He whisked it across the board, then one of his pieces, and then one of Hermione’s, and then one of his own, “Check.”

“Maybe if you had patience and didn’t stare me down every time it was my turn-” Hermione started, glancing to you for support.

Her eyes widened when she saw the somewhat intimate position you were in with Fred, her sentence dropping. 

“If you didn’t take so long, I wouldn’t stare you down!” Ron huffed and pushed his chair back, standing suddenly.

He hadn’t even glanced at you and Fred, missing Hermione’s shocked expression.

“What are you doing?” she questioned Fred, sounding even more offended than when Ron was yelling at her a moment ago.

“What?” Fred replied nonchalantly, pushing his body away from yours and taking Ron’s seat.

He moved the chair closer to the table, purposefully brushing his knee against yours. You knew he was watching your face, so you kept a neutral expression.

“He was all over you,” Hermione whispered to you, as if Fred wasn’t right in front of her,

“So?” you asked, acting as if it wasn’t abnormal for Fred to ‘be all over you’.

You were internally cringing at the whole thing, at Fred’s forwardness, lying to Hermione, the whole situation.

“Something must be in the air today,” Hermione said to no one in particular as she stood from the table, “everyone’s lost their minds.”

She left you and Fred, leaving him with a smirk on his face.

“I think that went well,” Fred said, moving the pieces on the chess board around swiftly as he set it up for a new game.

You moved to Hermione’s seat so you were across from him, rolling your eyes. 

“This is ridiculous, Fred,” you said, and at the sound of your genuine annoyance his eyes were on your face.

The board in front of you was set anew, white closest to you. You let yourself sit in your frustration for a moment, looking down at the board and moving a pawn. Fred made no move to his own pieces, just staring at you from his side of the table.

“What d’you mean?” he said, watching your hand retreat from the board. 

“These public displays of affection- isn’t it a little ridiculous?” you said, locking your eyes on the game in front of you.

A look of hurt flashed across Fred’s face, not that you would have seen it, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. His hand lazily moved one of his pawns.

“I don’t think so, no,” he said, leaning back in his chair and still studying your face, “I think they’re quite effective.”

“They’re only effective because I’m playing along,” you moved another pawn, hoping Fred would take the bait so you could steal his pawn.

“Which I appreciate fully,” he said, leaning forward and moving his pawn exactly where you wanted him to.

You stole his piece, advancing on the board. He hadn’t even registered the game, frankly, only looking at you.

“I feel like-” you didn’t know what you felt. You hadn’t put it into words, but you knew you didn’t like it.

Fred, and older, charming, handsome boy, was showing you a new amount of attention. Fred, a boy you had a crush on almost the entire time you’ve known him, was sending you flirtatious winks in the hallways and being very affectionate. Fred, your best friend’s older brother, was trying to date you to win a bet.

“-nevermind,” you finished, realizing you could not say any of this aloud. 

Fred had a quizzical look on his face, watching you as you silently sat across from him. You met his eyes for the first time since he sat down, swallowing hard. You stared at each other for at least a minute, neither of you moving or breaking the contact. His eyes had an intensity in them that you had never seen before, but they were also gentle and kind. He looked soft, his face illuminated by the faint candle light and fireplace, casting a yellow hue over his skin. His hair was grown out and pushed off his forehead, falling easily on the sides of his face. He had taken his tie off, though still in his school uniform, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mouth, usually in a resting smirk, was thin and straight, making him look rarely serious. 

You felt like it took ages, but you finally broke his stare and cast your eyes downward at the board. You looked back up at him, seeing his eyes unmoving from your face.

“Your move,” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

Fred’s eyes shot to the board, and he moved the first piece he saw. His mind was racing as he tried to collect his thoughts, all of which were about you. 

He had no idea what happened, but his heart was beating incredibly fast and his hands were sweating. Fred, a man who had never once done anything serious, was feeling very serious. He didn’t know what was going on inside his head, but all he knew was that he thought you were remarkably beautiful. You were perfect, really, and he could not wait for this game of chess to end so he could get the hell away from you. 

Fred had never been in any sort of serious relationship. He had never dated a girl for longer than a few weeks, usually doing something that offended them (that was often mentioning how hot another girl was, or, in the worst case, snogging said other girl). He didn’t care for anything long-term, anything serious, because he couldn’t be bothered to find anyone that interesting. You, however, made his hands sweat. No one had ever made Fred’s hands sweat. No one had ever made Fred’s mind run blank.

He blinked at the board, realizing it was his turn again, and felt like giggling like a school girl. He shot his head up, looking around the common room and pretending to be in a hurry.

“Have you got the time?” he asked, watching as you looked down at your wrist- eyes flickering to your hand, which he realized he wanted nothing more than to hold in that moment- checking the time on your watch and telling him. He sprang from his chair, “I told George I’d meet him in a few, can we continue this later?”

He hadn’t even waited for an answer before he was running through the portrait hole, nearly knocking a few first years off their feet when he bumped into them.

Fred disappeared from the common room, leaving you with the chess board.

For the next few days, Fred’s flirting was non-existent. He wasn’t ignoring you, but the entire dynamic between you had shifted; something changed. He wasn’t painfully arrogant, seeming to take more effort in the way he treated you. There was no inappropriate flirting, no lustful winks. You wondered if the bet was still on.

You found out soon that it was. 

You and Hermione left the library fairly late into the afternoon, but neither of you minded the time that got away from you. You spent the day doing very little actual studying, talking and laughing instead. There was a very few amount of people who could tear Hermione away from her studies, and she didn’t often like to admit that you were one of them. 

“Are you going to tell me why Fred was so-” she broke off, shuddering in some sort of disgusted way that made you laugh “-touchy with you the other day?”

Hermione had been pressing a little bit every time she saw you about Fred, and you had been avoiding it every time. 

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. That was just Fred being Fred,” you insisted, rolling your eyes playfully. 

The guilt of lying to your friends left you a few days ago, instead you only felt overwhelming uneasiness as your schoolgirl crush for Fred resurfaced. You couldn’t help it; the hot older boy you had liked since your first year was suddenly putting himself in compromising situations with you. So, you couldn’t tell Hermione about Fred’ bet, because then you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself telling her about your genuine crush. 

“Really?” Hermione teased, bumping her shoulder into yours.

“Yes, really,” you insisted, turning the corner to the main staircase that was crowded with students wandering the castle on the weekend afternoon, “ I don’t get why your fixating on this, ‘Mione.”

Your words, however, fell on deaf ears. Her gaze was locked on something on the stairs beneath you both. You followed it, seeing the heavy stream of students starting to part. From your position, you couldn’t see much through the crowd, but soon the crowd thinned around you and you got closer.

Fred stood on the landing, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hands. You bit your lip, trying to hide the laugh bubbling in your chest. Such a grand gesture for a fake one-month relationship, this boy was determined to beat George and win those three Galleons. You felt Hermione clutching loosely to your arm, a dazed sort of look overcoming her features. You couldn’t help but laugh at this, prying yourself free from her grip and walking down the stairs to meet Fred.

He also looked sort of dazed, and with a quizzical expression you felt your face heat up under the stares of everyone in the stairwell. You came to the landing, looking up at Fred. His hand shook a little as he held the flowers, and he bit his lip harshly. 

“Want to go out with me?” he asked, a surprisingly earnest voice replacing his usual smug one. 

You glanced at your watch, moving to stand on your toes to reach him. You moved your mouth to his ear, speaking so only he could hear you, “You’re about a week early with this gesture, Freddie.”

He chuckled, and from being so close to him his chest bumped yours slightly. You fell to stand flat on your feet, still close to him. He looked down at you, holding the flowers between your chests. 

“I don’t like following schedules,” he said, grinning down at you.

You resisted the urge to wrap your arms around his shoulders and never let go, settling instead on a bashful smile. He handed you the flowers, the brown paper they were wrapped in feeling a little damp from how profusely his hands were nervously sweating.

When he made this bet with George, he had just planned on kissing you in some busy hallway to announce the start of your relationship, as he did with most of his relationships. Somehow, though, you felt more special. His stomach sank every time he thought about the limited and fake month he’d have to with you, but he forced his way through it. 

So he went to the field by Hagrid’s hut and picked the best flowers he could find, wrapping them in a brown paper and organizing them so they were perfect, because you were perfect. 

He looked down at you, watching you as you held the flowers up to your face and smelled them. Your eyes were light and filled with innocent excitement, giving him an enchanting smile that showed all your teeth; you looked incredibly and undeniably happy, and that made Fred happy. 

You had both nearly forgotten about the entire student body surrounding you both, watching the exchange. Fred, feeling unnerved by the vulnerability he had exhibited in such a large crowd, looked up and smiled smugly, wiggling his eyebrows. The entire staircase erupted in a somewhat jumbled mix of cheers and laughter, sending a deep red blush to your cheeks. Fred looked down at you, and in a moment of unfiltered happiness, brought his hands to your cheeks. He lifted your head from where you had ducked it to hide the blush, forcing you to look up at him with the embarrassed grin on your lips. Before he could think about what he was doing, his face was leaning closer to yours and his hands on your cheeks were pulling you closer to him. You barely had the time to register what was happening, only hearing the laughter and cheers around you get louder as Fred’s face was pressed against yours.

He was fast at first, passionate and quick as if he thought he only had a second before you pulled away. You couldn’t though, even though every bone in your body was telling you to. Your lasting feelings for Fred were telling you that this kiss was okay, that your friendship with Ron would take the backseat for a while as you let Fred press himself against you. Your thoughts were fading, being replaced with the hyper awareness of everywhere Fred was touching you. His lips slowed and his breathing became slower too. He let out a sigh through his nose, the air hitting your face and sending a brand new flush to your cheeks. His hands on your cheeks stopped pulling you towards him, now being a gentle and soft presence on your skin. His left hand was grazing your jaw, his calloused fingertips tickling the skin lightly. His right hand cupped your cheek firmly still, but his thumb rubbed against your cheekbone. You held the flowers in one hand, and it wasn’t until a few seconds into the kiss that you had even remembered you had hands. You rested your hand holding the flowers against his chest, tilting the bouquet so it didn’t hit Fred in the face. Your other hand snaked up his arm, clutching loosely at his strong forearm as it hung between your bodies. 

You were both at each other’s wills, you would do anything Fred and Fred vowed to himself that he would follow you to the ends of the Earth, if you asked him to. 

The spark moving through Fred’s body was nothing he had ever felt before. He didn’t feel it when he kissed Angelina Johnson, his first kiss, after winning a Quidditch match. He didn’t feel it when he drunkenly kissed Alicia Spinnet at a party. He didn’t feel anything close to this when he kissed Katie Bell in a game of truth or dare last year. You were completely new to Fred, and part of him already knew he wanted to spend every second with you from then on out.

You pulled away first, entirely and completely breathless. You looked up at Fred, mouth opening and closing like an out of water fish as you tried to find words to say in this moment. Fred just chuckled, bringing his hand on your cheek to graze his knuckles against your swollen lips. You closed your mouth, feeling okay with having nothing to say, and figuring it was better to not say anything anyways. 

The crowd registered in your brain, making you feel extremely embarrassed again. You shoved your face into Fred’s chest, hiding the flush all over your face.

“Alright! Shows over, you perverts,” Fred called out, smiling widely at the group.

You heard the shuffling of feet begin around you, the traffic beginning once again. A few wolf whistles reached your ears, and you didn’t remove yourself from Fred’s chest until you were sure everyone had moved on. 

Fred’s large hand rested on the back of your head, soothing down your hair. You found it oddly intimate, and you knew letting all of this happen was only setting yourself up for hurt when this bet was inevitably over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Pulling away finally, your flowers clutched at your side, you took a deep breath. You were bringing your gaze to look up at Fred, but a group of redheads standing behind him caught your eyes and made them widen.

“I am so telling mum you have a girlfriend!” Ginny squealed, her voice easily heard in the now empty stairwell.

Fred turned to face his family, seeing Ginny, Ron, George, Hermione, and Harry looking at him as if he’s sprouted five new limbs.

Ron elbowed Ginny, sending her a wide-eyed look, “my bestfriend is not his girlfriend!” Ron said confidently, then turning to Fred with a threatening look, “My bestfriend is not your girlfriend.”

Fred smiled nervously, “I’m not dating Harry, Ron,” he attempted to joke, only earning a laugh from George and an embarrassed look from Harry. 

You peaked from behind Fred, meeting the group. You smiled at them sheepishly, meeting Hermione’s baffled eyes.

“I knew it!” she called, causing the entire group to turn their heads to look at her, “I knew you fancied her.”

Hermione looked quite proud of herself, but Ron looked fuming. Harry had sort of a ‘I-saw-this-coming’ look on his face.

“Guys,” you said, stepping towards them, “Ron.”

You gave Ron a pleading look, prepared to embarrass yourself and set the whole thing straight, even prepared to lose 3 Galleons. Suddenly, Hermione stepped between you and Ron.

“Ronald,” she said sternly, snapping Ron out from his angry mood briefly, “I hope you are not about to prevent a lovely relationship just because you have no emotional intelligence or maturity regarding these subjects.”

Your eyes widened from behind Hermione, casting a shocked glance to Fred. George and Ginny stifled their laughter, saving an embarrassed Ron some of his pride after being scolded by Hermione. 

“But he’s my brother!” he whined, his anger leaving him and instead being replaced by some sort of tame disgust.

You couldn’t take it, every part of you wanted to tell them it was a bet, the galleons be damned. You looked to Fred with a warning look, only to see him digging in his pockets.

“George,” he called out, removing his hand from his pocket and clutching something, “catch.”

Fred tossed six coins at George, and George caught them with surprise.

“Bets off,” Fred said, looking painfully serious. 

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, an immense feeling of guilt wash over you. You had cost Fred six galleons, even after the work he had put in. He had kissed you for the sake of it, and you couldn’t go one month. 

“Fred,” you stuttered, looking at him with guilt

His mouth broke into a grin, however, and he took a few steps towards you. George watched Fred’s movements, and began pulling away the group. Ron, still standing there with a confused look on his face, was tugged away by the back of his collar.

“I don’t want to fake date you,” he whispered to you once he was close enough, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Well, that seems like a lot of work for nothing, then-” you started, only for his lips to fall onto yours and silence you.

You couldn’t help it, again, as you let yourself melt into him. He pulled away all too soon however, resting his forehead on yours as he looked into your eyes. 

“I want to date you for real,” he said, biting his lip nervously, “not as a bet.”

Your eyes widened, and once again you could not think of anything to say. You opened and closed your mouth, searching for the words, but gave up. You gave a relieved sigh, hearing the words you had dreamed of hearing since you were 12, and kissed Fred Weasley. 

[candlelightreader]

Ok I binge watched Castle (never watched when it aired) and I have QUESTIONS! And yes, OTP Caskett for life right here no ifs, ands, or buts.

Already rewatching right now, but here's what I don't get:

- the fuck was that last season? I binge watched I cannot imagine what it would've been like to wait week after week while that mess unfolded.

- season 8 again: did Castle truly believe she was leaving him for real? And she let him? I just really was confused and thought he knew there was something up but that he played along. Completely nonsensical

- whole disappearing for two months was so fucked I can't even express myself. And the explanation makes no sense. Period.

- frankly, I love this show except for the parts I don't. But the suspension of disbelief necessary in it just made no sense. I am never one to jump out of a story, I'm usually happy to go with the flow. but are you seriously telling me that there are no defense lawyers out there who throw the cases out because Castle is in on interrogations and is at crime scenes? But maybe that's me. That's not the biggest one. The biggest has to be the extent to which they keep allowing these cops to investigate their own cases or cases where there's a clear involvement or what can be qualified as conflict of interest. Not even talking about the whole Beckett's mom thing. That at least was mostly rogue. Just talking about (for example) Castle remaining on the case when his rich buddy's wife was killed. Or when Espo is allowed within arms length of that case with his thief of an ex. Like, come on! Is there no internal affairs in this universe? (Other than the one internal affairs cop that was the villain, of course.)

- Castle's mom was too good for that show! No I'm kidding. I just loved her.

- Alexis devolving into a normal young adult was a bit jarring after she had been such a wise and unusual teen whom her dad had to bribe to be bad. I guess as he dad grew up she allowed herself to be a child?

- OK back to Caskett. What stopped them being together at the beginning? Nah this one is not serious. But the tension sure was nice yet excruciating. I would've loved them to explore what happens when he's super famous and she's super famous by proxy. Just wouldn't have objected to seeing their lives as a couple, solving crimes by day, being glamorous by night. I hate that his fame seems to become a non-issue later. Why couldn't the Nikki Heat movie be a hit if that actress was supposedly a hit? And who played Rook exactly? We see everyone else but him.

- oh another illogical thing. I get Castle signing away his life in the second episode. But it just never made sense that Beckett has him as partner but essentially has no back-up with him. (Who backed her up before he showed up btw? Espo and Ryan have each other. Aren't detectives supposed to have a partner?) He is unarmed all the time and is just a liability. Bringing me to how they never have him being shot which is annoying to my hurt trope loving self.

- that first/fake kiss? ... ya ... got nothing there

- fuck Josh.

- fuck Demming too, though I'd give anything to see/hear about how he takes the news of C and B being together

- why was she so PDA heavy at the precinct when she was with Demming and Josh, only to have that nowhere to be seen with Castle? (After they are out)

- fuck Gina too, kinda. I have less hate on Castle's exes or lovers only because we actually get a sense of who they are and we see they insignificant and a way for him to pass time while waiting for Kate to make up her mind. But Beckett's lovers are just there to be hated by Castle. There is an inconsistency in how much the audience gets to know them. Josh is a man doctor with a bike. That's all we know. Like she ordered him on cliche dot com. So ya, I get the show is Castle's, but then don't show the fight room scenes with Beckett but then have her get together and dump Josh both offscreen. He was just there to annoy Castle and push him that one time!

- for a writer he just couldnt use his damn words could he? Why didn't he just tell her he told her he loved her instead of acting like toddler about it?

That is all for now. Had to get it out. Excuse me now as I go seek out fanfic.

[inknopewetrust]

In Another Universe Part 4 (Marcus Moreno x Reader)

Summary: The reunion you've both been waiting forever for.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader (We Can Be Heroes/MCU Crossover)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is it! Thank you all for showing interest in this series and being so enthusiastic about it. @jupitersmooneuropa, this is for you! You're idea was so wonderful, I just couldn't resist making it into a mini-series and I hope I did you proud. Requests are currently CLOSED but will be open again soon. Check out my MASTERLIST for all other works!

Being a hero meant a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Some loved the fame, the recognition, the money that sometimes came with, while some just wanted to be helpful and loved for their work. But one quality heroes had in common was that they were able to calm their nerves in the most crucial moments.

For Marcus Moreno, that crucial moment was now, and he could barely contain his nerves.

Clint could feel the anxiety radiating off the man. Marcus tried to play it cool because he had everything that made him seem cool: the swords, the tactical gear, his stoic face, but it wasn't enough to mask emotions from a world-class spy. Though Clint was able to sense it, he wasn't sure what exactly to say. He had only heard about Marcus through you, he only knew what little you told him, and that was how he determined Marcus wasn't some alien but the man you've been waiting for.

It was an awkward silence. One filled with the quiet roaring of the engines and every now and again, the sound of alerts from the computers around them. Clint kept his eyes on the sky while Marcus took peaks at the landscape below. The world looked so much like his own... just not as technically advanced as his own. The clouds swallowed the sip and his eyes drifted forward again as he took in a deep breath and exhaled.

"Nervous?" Clint managed to crack Marcus a smile and glanced at the man sitting to his right. Marcus chuckled, nodding his head with a nonchalance.

"You could say that."

"There's no reason for you to be."

"There's always a chance for something to go wrong."

Clint shrugged and flipped some switches as the quinjet began to descend.

"Are we there already?"

"Almost. About 5 minutes out."

Another uneasy silence fell over them but Clint wasn't contributing to it. Marcus just wanted everything to be like it was before. You, Missy, and himself in a home that felt like home. He couldn't have asked for a better partner in life and work, and it was taken away from him just like your life was taken away from you, but he wasn't going to say his life was better without you because it wasn't. Marcus just feared that maybe this life here was better than the one you had built with him. No one's reassurance except your own could tell him otherwise.

"Can I ask you a question?" Marcus glanced at Clint before returning to look forward again, a little embarrassed to be talking about you with someone he didn't know. But he knew you loved Clint like a brother, just as Natasha had been a sister, so he understood there was a level of trust there. Clint mumbled a 'go ahead' but his attention wasn't entirely on Marcus.

"Is she happy here?"

'Loaded question, but alright Mr. other world.' Clint thought before answering with the only truthful answer that could be given. He has watched the progression of a quiet depression become one of reclusiveness and a bitter happiness. You weren't happy here, in this world, with him or any of the Avengers. Natasha was gone, Steve was gone, Wanda was MIA, Bucky and Sam were on their own adventures. No one was here except him and that wasn't nearly enough to support someone who lost everything and then some because of a greedy man with glowing stones. This wasn't your home anymore.

"Was. She was at one time. I don't think this is where her heart is anymore."

Clint gave him a flat smile but Marcus did not return it. The thought alone of you avoiding social contact because happiness was ripped away from you in every direction was heart-wrenching. He never wanted to bring you any pain and a part of him couldn't help but believe that if he tried harder, if he hadn't wasted time being upset with your arrival years ago, things may have been different.

"We're here."

The announcement sent shockwaves through him. A thunderbolt of pure, unexplainable fear and anticipation of seeing you again struck his core. This was it; this was his endgame and the farm that slowly made itself clear out the window was the destination.

"Let me go in and see them first, make sure they're home, and then I'll come back. Is that alright?"

Marcus could only nod and watch the man grab his bags and bow and leave the jet. Marcus unbuckled himself because there was no point in staying in the seat. The back was left open and while Clint had told him to stay, he couldn't help but walk down the ramp and stand just to the side of the jet. He ran his hand over the side of the matte gray finish, slightly impressed by the time it took to get there. It was faster than he thought even if it felt like an eternity.

The house was a nice weathered white. It had seen better days and as Clint approached the door, he noted all the fixes needed. The rusted door handle, the broken pot in the corner, an abundance of yard toys and broken bicycle parts laid around him. He managed to open the door with limited squeaking, but Laura heard it and so did Lila. The boys weren't home because if they were, they would have tackled him to the ground the moment they heard the ship land in the yard.

"Clint!? What are you doing here? I thought you weren't supposed to be back for two weeks." Laura said as soon as she came around the corner from the kitchen. Lila was right behind her with a smile and hug for him–which he gladly accepted.

"Emergency. Where is Y/n? I have something I think she'd want to see."

Laura furrowed her eyebrows and moved to the window. Outside, beside the jet, stood a man who could have been a new Avenger for all she knew. She turned back to Clint, moving away from the window so Lila could sneak a glance too.

"What is it? Who is that man out there?"

"That man is Marcus. That Marcus. He just appeared at the compound looking for her. They apparently have been trying to find a way to bring her back and whatever he did, it worked."

Laura let out an audible gasp, returning to the window and looking at the man. Slowly, just as Clint had hours before, she began to piece together the man before her eyes from the stories you had told her about.

"Oh my God! OH MY GOD!" She almost yelled so loudly the neighbors two blocks away could hear her. Clint shushed her but she couldn't keep the smile off her face. Laura ran to the staircase and yelled up it.

"Y/n! Get down here!"

"Oh my God, Clint! She had a great day today and wow-I just can't believe it."

You had heard Laura's loud enthusiasm from the room you had been staying in. You thought you'd leave her be until her voice trailed up the stairs again and she called out to you. It wasn't like you had any idea of what was going on. You heard the quinjet, figured Clint was back, and it was around dinner time so maybe it was time to eat? It was the first time in a long time that your thoughts hadn't been cluttered with death or sadness, but those feelings lingered. You exited the room, walked down the stairs and smiling at Clint when you saw his face.

"How's the girl?" Kate Bishop.

"She's a real hero." Clint replied and you nodded your head in reply. Doing so, you managed to turn toward the window from your place on the second to last step. Outside sat the quinjet that had taken so many of you and your friends on missions that could have well been your last. But it wasn't the vehicle that caught your undivided attention, but the body beside it. Standing tall in black.

Your eyes had to have been deceiving you.

"What is going on?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but Laura caught it, smiling and grabbing your hand. Your attention never left the window. The man was pacing slightly, a nervous tick you were sure you knew.

"Laura-"

"Go and see for yourself, Y/n." Her voice was quiet too but reassuring and warm, like a mothers should be. The man outside didn't know what was going on, but he left your sight because you descended the rest of the steps and ran out the door.

The door squeaked loudly this time and with a bang, fell shut. You barely made it to the steps before you stopped on the gravel. about 20 yards away, the man heard the door and turned.

Even if the entire world was watching the scene unfold on Clint's lawn, many could not recall who moved first. Laura would say Marcus because that's who she could see, but you were slightly convinced it was your own feet. Nevertheless, after the door had slammed and the two of you met again, the universe drew you together like magnets. You ran, he ran, and with the collision, you both wrapped your arms around each other and soon your feet were off the ground.

You could barely say a word with your blubbering tears, and he wasn't about to make his obvious either so instead of talking, he just pulled away enough to look you in the face. Your eyes the same, your nose the same, your lips still perfect to him. Your hands moved from around his neck to his face. You gently held his face in your hands as you tried to control yourself.

"You're really here?" It was a broken ask but he managed a smile and moved a piece of hair out of your face.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"I missed you s-so much." Marcus couldn't help but grin at the admission. It was everything and more than he wanted to hear.

"I love you. I love you so damn much." His hand rested on the back of your neck and he pulled you to him. His lips were just as you remembered.

Perfectly him and as if they were made for your own.

Reunions were sentimental and good. But they were followed with a series of questions that were often difficult to hear. Marcus had held you for a long time. You weren't sure how long and you weren't exactly complaining either, but there was a linger question: how did he get here and how in the world are you getting back?

You had been adamant in telling him 'yes' the moment Marcus asked you the question about returning to his world. That was the plan for you. There were no other options because life with Marcus and Missy was your life now and whoever was left that loved you like family had to accept that. Marcus had explained the machine built to travel through worlds over dinner with Clint because perhaps he could be the one to help. He had travelled through time before so what is traveling through universes, right?

But later that night, when the reunion had settled and everyone had gone to bed, Marcus sat on the edge of an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room with a woman he loves. Clint could help you, but he needed time. So, he left with the jet while you stayed with the family and Marcus. He went to go see Stephen Strange because he managed to pick up the phone late that night.

"Do you think they'll be able to get us back? I don't want to leave Missy there all alone." Marcus voiced his worry with a sad reflection. You sat up from your reclined position and waddled over to him, running your hands up his back and then around his shoulders before he gently took them and tugged them around him. He missed your touch so much.

"You've never seen Dr. Stephen Strange do his 'magic' so I think there's a chance."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He turned his head just enough so he could look at your face. You may have been a spy, but your eyes never lied to him. He knew you better than any interrogator could ever wish to have known you.

"Yes, I want to be with you and Missy and all those heroes with weird names." You laughed for the first time in a long time and it was music to his ears. He smiled to where his eyes crinkled in the corners as your fingers played with the nape of his neck where his loose hair sat.

"I just want you to be happy, Y/n. Your happiness means everything to me."

"I am happy with you. I am happy in our home. This makes me happy."

That was enough for him. The next day you both waited... and waited... and waited for even one word from Clint, but nothing came. Sometime in the afternoon, the heavy engine of the quinjet could be heard in the yard so you dropped the puzzle pieces on the table beside Lila, grabbed Marcus' hand and ran out the door. Clint had a small smile on his face, but it was the sharply dressed Doctor that you focused your attention on.

"Doctor."

"Agent."

"I trust there is a way home if you're here. You wouldn't come all this way to bare bad news."

"Your skills on reading people alarm me, though I would expect nothing less from an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Stephen nodded and then extended his hand to Marcus who shook it in return. They introduced themselves to one another and Stephen put a gold bar on his fingers before extending his hand to the wide landscape of the farm.

"What are you doing?" You asked with a furrowed brow. This wasn't the way Marcus had come, they were supposed to fix the control pad he had on his arm.

"Do you really think the Sorcerer Supreme can't open portals to other universes? There are so many worlds you don't know, but you found the one you were meant to be in, so let me get you both home."

With a circular movement of his fingers, Stephen opened a yellow portal that slowly became an image of a world you had known before. A house, perfectly structured in the suburbs was on the other side. The grass perfectly mowed and the bushes trimmed, the mail box accidentally left open which you knew was Missy's fault. The curtains were open and the sun shone brightly into the home. Marcus grabbed you hand, squeezing it tightly as you took in the sight. Months had gone by where you dreamed of this moment, of that house and all its residents. Your dream was here now with the man holding your hand to support you.

"Y/n." Clint called out to you, breaking your stare. You turned around and he approached with his family in tow. He held out a small envelope which contained a note from them and a series of pictures that you would later cry over, but it was a final goodbye from your life here on this Earth.

You hugged them all with tears in your eyes but when Marcus re-took your hand, it felt like it meant something more than just running off into the sunset together. It felt normal and needed and necessary to move forward in your life.

"Are you ready?" Marcus asked you to which you could only reply with one word:

"Yes."

Tag list for series: (thanks for the support!!)

@pasckles @jupitersmooneuropa @agingerindenial @karnita-mexicana @mcueveryday @shadowolf993 @computeringturtle @roxypeanut

[sammininoofthelord]

Last chapter of the 5+1 "5 times Aziraphale shielded Crowley from the rain, and one time he didn't."!

Can't believe is over!

Collab with @zeckarin-blaise

It is Crowley's last day as Nanny Ashtoreth, and she needs to break the news to Aziraphale.

You can read it on Ao3 by Zeckarin or bellow

**

Until a few minutes ago, the garden had been a true haven of peace. Crowley sighed in her coffee cup, wondering for the third time if she should close the kitchen’s window or not.

Eavesdropping was important, but she liked to drink her coffee in peace.

The Antichrist’s furious yelling started again, so loud Crowley wondered if he was unknowingly using some part of his powers to reach such volume.

“ I don’t want to go to Scotland!” screamed Warlock at the top of his lungs.

“ This is an important occasion for your father, and you will come with us,” answered his mother, only slightly lower.

“ Scotland sucks !” yelled the boy, stomping his feet on the ground and effectively squashing two tulips in the process.

From her vantage point, Crowley scowled. She did teach the boy to ground the world under his heels, but the poor flowers had been doing their best and were, as the rest of the garden, flawless. She would have to have a word with her charge when he came back.

With a pang, she remembered there would be no word to be had upon Warlock’s return.

Blessed social conventions, decreeing that a boy of nine wasn’t in need of a nanny anymore. The next two years would be critical in shaping Warlock’s mind, and the role would befall another demon.

What kind of stupid fake name was ‘Harrison’ anyway?

With a low growl, she finished her cup, looking at the coffee machine. She needed more, but it would have to wait. There was a much more pressing matter to take care of.

Where was that stupid angel when she needed to see him? He usually spent half of his mornings here in the kitchen, chatting and drinking tea with the cook, who had a soft spot for ‘ that nice Mr Francis’ , and always used him as her personal taster*.

*Not that the angel complained. Mrs. Griffiths was a wonderful cook, and had been the recipient of many small blessings in the last four years.

 

A movement in the gardens caught her eyes, and she blinked in surprise.

What was Aziraphale doing trimming the edge? In all his time as a gardener, he had always miracled them neat every few weeks.

Tilting her head, she focused on her old nemesis. Was that… sweat on his forehead?

“ What in Manchester is going on?” she mumbled, putting her empty cup down and heading to the door.

“ Hiya, angel.”

Aziraphale started, the movement making him snap his clippers. He watched in fascinated horror as the top of the bush fell to the ground.

“ Trying a new style?” asked Crowley with a chuckle. “I’m not sure Harriet is very keen on modern art, you know.”

“ Crowley!” chided Aziraphale in a hushed voice, “How many times will I have to ask you not to sneak up on me!”

“ I’m a demon and a snake, sneaking is my thing , angel. The question is why are you here, working your arse off like a real gardener?”

Aziraphale straightened himself haughtily. “I am a real gardener! And I am taking my work seriously!”

“ Ha!” scoffed Crowley, summoning all of Nanny Ashtoreth’s poise and sense of decorum to stop herself from laughing out loud, “You haven’t cut a single leaf of grass in four years, you lazy bastard! If you want to lie to me, make it at least a little more plausible.”

For a moment, the angel seemed like he was about to answer with outrage, but something shifted in his look and he deflated visibly.

Crowley squinted. “ What ?” she snapped.

Aziraphale shrugged, picking up his clippers. “Nothing. I… may have had a visit from Gabriel this morning.”

Crowley hissed through her teeth. “What did that wanker say this time? Let me guess: too many frivolous miracles? Is that why you’re butchering those poor boxwoods?”

She unfolded her black umbrella in angry motions and held it over her friend with pursed lips. Stupid wanker Gabriel, forcing her angel to work in the blazing sun like this. Typical.

The angel mumbled something unintelligible.

“ I am afraid I didn’t quite catch your meaning, Brother Francis,” said Crowley dryly.

“ I said he ordered me to quit!” cried the angel in anguish.

“ He WHOT?”

“ Not so loud!” pleaded Aziraphale, looking up at the sky. “He asked me to quit my position here. Apparently there is a lack of angelic intervention in Soho, and I am needed there.”

“ That… doesn’t make sense,” said Crowley, frowning. “Do you reckon they’re afraid you’ll succeed?”

Aziraphale blinked, and another perfectly trimmed bush lost its head. “Why would they want that? I am trying to avoid the end of the world, of course they approve of it!”

“ Why else would they want you out, angel?” Crowley gasped in realisation. “Oh! Are they replacing you too?”

Aziraphale suddenly got very still. “Replacing?” he asked cautiously. “What do you mean? Is Hell replacing you?”

Crowley shrugged, her perfectly coiffed hair not moving one millimetre. “Yeah, they’re sending another demon tomorrow to take over.”

“WHAT?” yelled Aziraphale, throwing the clippers away so hard they sank into the ground to the handle. “How DARE they? I will not let this happen, Crowley, I swear to you! I will smite them the instant they put a foot on Earth, and every other after them if I need to!”

Crowley reached out in a hurry, grabbed her friend’s shoulders and shook furiously until the Heavenly light dimmed around him.

“ Not replacing me on Earth ! Here! With Warlock! They’re sending someone to take my place here !” she said urgently, waving around.

“ Oh,” said Aziraphale. “Maybe you should have started with that.”

“ Honestly, angel, don’t you think I would have looked a little more stressed if they’d called me back to Hell ?”

Aziraphale pouted, looking away. “Well… possibly,” he admitted.

“ Possibly,” mimicked Crowley, rolling her eyes. “Really, you’re unbelievable. Here you are, keeping a low profile and not using miracles so Heaven doesn't know you stayed and disobeyed them, and you go and try to summon Heavenly Grace directly from the source!”

“ Ah, yes. Thank you for stopping me, dear girl. It was not the most discreet endeavour.”

“ Tell you what? Let’s go back to London together tomorrow. I’ll give you a ride. We did our best here anyway.”

“ But… what about Warlock? He needs positive influences in his life!”

“ Angel… there’s a new demon arriving here tomorrow. They’ll spot you, it’s way too dangerous. We will find a way to keep an eye on Warlock,” she added, seeing the angel’s resolution weakening.

“ All right, then. If you are sure it is the right thing to do,” conceded Aziraphale.

“ You won’t be able to stop the Apocalypse if you’re dead, angel,” grumbled Crowley.

“ Quite right.”

Aziraphale looked around, made a face at the massacred edges, and sighed. “Well. Better start packing!” he said, clapping his hands to get rid of the dirt.

“ You’re going to leave it that way, right?” asked Crowley with a knowing smirk.

“ I am sure the next gardener will have no trouble taking care of it,” lied her friend, walking towards the house.

Crowley followed him, feeling both proud and impressed.

[fan4196]

Alex’s Award

Hope you like it. Enjoy!

Thanks to @angry-slytherin :)

-

If you would have told intern Alex that fourty years in the future he would sit right here, beside his amazing wife of almost thirty years, he would have laughed hard. Never had he imagined that his hard work and a little lie about testicular cancer could bring him this far.

Sitting here in between hundreds of brilliant minds, hoping to win one of the biggest medical awards was still crazy for him. Why him out of all? Why should they give him an award? Why should he out of all deserve an award like this?

As he keeps looking around the room he recognises so many amazing doctors from all over the country. And he still can't believe that he is one of them.

He takes his view back to the stage as he hears Catherine read his name as one of the nominees of the night.

"...Doctor Alexander Karev, Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital..." That's all he hears as Jo squeezes his hand softly before she continues stroking the back of it with her thumb. He glances to the side where his wife is sitting and smiling proudly while she's watching the stage. His view follows his wife's to the stage as Catherine is about to proclaim the winner.

"And the Catherine Fox Award for medical innovation goes to- Alexander Karev, Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital."

The sound of words reach his ears but don't seam to reach his brain. His brain doesn't get it.

The grip of his wife's hands on his cheeks made him finally realise it. He fricking won.

His shocked face slowly defrosts as he looks into Jo's teary eyes. The smile on her face shines of proudness as she leans forward to kiss him, putting her left arm around his neck while her right hand disappears in his hair.

What felt like minutes for him turns out to be only a few seconds as Jo loosens her grip on him.

"I'm so proud of you." Jo whispers while she looks him in the eyes. "Now go and get your award." She loosens her arms completely and carefully pushes him towards the stage.

Where he's standing behind the microphone with his award in his hand within seconds.

"Fu- Sorry. Ahm wow. Thank you so much. I have this long list of people here I want to thank but let's make this short. Mom, Doctor Bailey, Robbins, Mer - thank you. But the person I really have to thank is my incredible wife Doctor Josephine Karev. Without you I would never stand here right now. You made me better, you changed me, you make me believe in myself. Not one person in my life believed in me more than you do. And I'm so incredible grateful that I met you twenty-seven years ago. I'm grateful every single day that I have you in my life, that you believe in me as a person and as a doctor and that you gave me this three amazing kids. Without my kids this idea would have never come to my mind. So I guess I have to thank them too - Emery, Parker, Eden I'm so thankful to have you; to have the privilege to call me your dad and I'm so proud of the people you grew up into. Not to brag but all three turned into amazing Doctors and just last week our son made us grandparents, so I guess we didn't screw them up too much, Princess." Everyone laughs while his eyes are glued on Jo. "Also, I hope someone is filming this, Mer, Cristina, Robbins, Avery-"

He puts the award next to his face before he keeps going. "I have one too now.”

While everyone laughs and applauds him again he makes his way back down to his seat. Smiling big as he sits down and kisses his wife again.

"You're gonna pay for the 'Princess'." She declares as she ends their kiss.

"It was worth it." He simply smirks.

The award show keeps going, honouring a few Doctors that are about to retire.

While they silently follow the scenes on stage Alex slowly starts stroking his hand up Jo's thigh through the slit of her dress. He carefully gets closer to her to whisper in her ear.

"Let's leave early and have some fun."

Not really on board with her husband Jo puts her hand over Alex's to stop him from going any further, before she turns to him.

"You have to go up there at the end of the show again for pictures and everything." She whispers to not bother anyone.

"We'll be finished by then." He replies cheeky, looking around to be sure no one could hear them.

"Ha you don't really believe that right?" She asks looking him in the eyes with an raised eyebrow.

"Are you saying I'm old?"

"No I'm saying if you start you aren't able to stop. So I promise when I got my picture of you on stage with your award and you talked to at least two medical magazine for an interview, you can keep me awake the whole night." Jo answers smiling at him before she leans in for a kiss.

"Deal." He agrees as they part.

The award show slowly comes to an end and all winners get back on stage again for pictures and a few interviews. And slowly the room empties as Alex is done with his third interview.

"Go up there one more time." Jo asks him with puppy dog eyes, knowing that he can't say no to her. "Please, for me?"

So he gets up there one more time so Jo can snap a few more pictures on her phone of him and his award. 

As he comes down again they ask a nice old lady to snap some pictures of them together in front of the stage. 

"Thank you." Jo thanks her with a smile as she takes her phone back.

"Oh you're very welcome. By the way if I'm allowed to say so I admire your work in Africa and I would really like to donate a little something to the Karev Foundation." The little grey haired woman smiles as she gets her check book out of her purse.

"Oh that's so nice. Thank you so much." Jo replies politely as she looks at Alex and back to the elderly woman. "We make sure your little something will help a lot of children."

The old lady scribbles something down on her check book before she folds it and puts it in Alex's chest pocket.

"Thank you so much again." Alex thanks her again, than takes Jo's hand and guides her out of the room.

"And now Doctor Karev I'm gonna take you to my room and rip that dress off you." He whispers as they walk towards the elevators.

"Whatever you want." Jo answers sneaky.

They wait a few seconds before they get into the elevator and push the button to their floor.

With Alex's award and her purse in her hands Jo can't fight back as he gets behind her and starts kissing her neck. She turns in his arms before she stops him for a second.

"What?" He asks a little disappointed as he still holds her tight.

"I wanna see what she donated." Jo answers as she hands him his award and her purse.

Fishing the check out of his chest pocket to unfold it.

"Holy-"

"What?" He quickly asks as he looks into his wife's big eyes.

She turns the check to show it to him, "It's a million!"

They silently stare into each other's eyes, both in shock of the amount of money they are able to put into their work in the future.

The sound of the elevator stopping wakes them and with another quick kissing Jo turns around and makes her way to their room. Alex follows a little behind, still carrying her purse and his award.

He quickly catches up with her and gets their room key out of his inner suit pocket to open the door.

Inside he quickly closes the door and gets rid off the things in his hands. To have them free for his wife. Within seconds their lips are back together and they slowly start undressing each other.

Alex is just about to open the zipper of Jo's dress as his phone starts ringing.

"No." He grouls, but picks up as he sees the name of his daughter on the screen.

"Hey kiddos. What's up? Did something happen?" He immediately asks, as he puts it on speaker and throws it down on the bed near his wife.

"Oh shut up dad. Congratulations." The voice of their youngest daughter comes through the phone.

"Thanks Eden." He laughs, as he quietly gets rid of his shoes and starts slowly opening one button after the other while he stares into Jo's eyes with a little grin on his lips.

"We are so proud of you dad." His oldest daughter congratulates through the speaker.

"Thank you Emy." He answers, still looking into his wife's hungry eyes as he gets rid of his suit jacket and shirt.

"Yeah you rocked that dad. We are very proud and Anna says congrats too, she just went to bed with Claire." His son adds to his siblings congrats.

"Thank you guys." Alex replies as he sits down on the bed beside Jo who smiles at him.

"Is mom there too?" Eden asks, knowing that it's a rhetorical question because their parents are always together.

"Yeah. I'm here." Jo answers, turning her view to the phone.

"You looked so hot in that dress mom. I have to say it." Eden adds.

"Thanks Eden. " Jo answers a little confused, "How do you know about my dress?"

"Dad send us pictures." Her daughter clarifies.

"Oh he did." Jo replies turning her view back to her husband, raising her eyebrow in surprise.

"Yeah. But we don't want to bother you any longer, by the look of you in that dress I'm actually surprised you picked up at all." Their youngest daughter jokes.

"Eden!" Emery's voice echoes through the phone.

"What? It's true. They might be our parents and maybe old but we all know that they still do it like bunnies."

"Good night Eden." Jo quickly interrupts before their daughter could say anything more, "Good night everyone else."

"Night mom and dad."

"Good night." Alex says his good bye before he hangs up and lets himself fall back onto the bed in laughter.

Jo joins him as she falls against his bare chest.

"She's not wrong." Alex shrugs as he slowly calms down again.

"I know." Jo adds before she starts kissing him again.

[sincerelyasomebody]

Pinky Promise || Oscar "Spooky" Diaz

(GIF Credit: @merakiaes)

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a while. It will be a two-part imagine/story. Apologises for any grammatical errors found. Once again, don't hesitate to correct me on the Spanish translations. 

Pairing(s): Spooky x Reader 

Summary: Life can change in an instant.

Warnings: allusions to absent parents; death; options within pregnancy, angsty, fluff, language, unplanned pregnancy

Word Count: 1282

- ♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ -

Becoming the accountant for a few businesses in Brentwood allowed (Y/N) to live above her means. A complete change from the two years out of (college/university) where she barely scraped by, even moving back in with her parents when she was unable to keep up with the rent at her apartment. Thankfully, she was able to bring herself out of that predicament. Those two years were stepping stones into the success she's experiencing now. 

She eventually branched out and took on being the accountant for Joe's Diner in Freeridge. Despite hearing negative things about the area, she couldn't help but admire the community. Their friendly faces, charismatic personalities and willingness to help one another without expecting anything in return reminded her of the small town her grandparents lived in.

When (Y/N) got the opportunity, she'd go back for a visit. Only with her family though. Going back by herself would be a bit too painful. 

Not only did she admire the community she fell in love with it… and with somebody. 

Oscar 'Spooky' Diaz. 

The pair met while (Y/N) was double checking the hours each employee wrote down on their timesheet. He sat in her booth and started up a conversation. Love at first sight wasn't something (Y/N) believed in, but she couldn't deny that they had instant chemistry. All it took was a date for the pair to become an official couple. 

(Y/N) couldn't have been happier. 

She was making good money, she had met somebody who "got" her and for all intents and purposes she was content. Completely satisfied with the way her life was going. 

And then a curveball was thrown. 

"... measuring about six weeks… discuss your options… a follow up..." 

(Y/N) remembered bits and pieces of her doctor's appointment. Going in for a simple check up resulted with the black and white picture in her hands. She was going to be a mother. Shaking her head she quickly tucked it into the pocket of her jacket and walked up the pathway of the Diaz household. She was surprised to see none of the usual Santos members hanging around outside, but figured they had more important matters. 

She was thankful though, as much as she liked the group she felt a sense of relief that they wouldn't be around to hear the news. 

"Está roto tu celular?" Oscar asked, as she walked through the door, when he received a head shake he continued, "then why haven't you been answering your phone?"

(Y/N) took a seat opposite him at the table, instead of answering his question she had one of her own. "Do you know what a wombat is?" 

"Why?" 

"Come on, just answer."

He scoffed, redirecting the conversation, "where were you?"

"I was busy." Was her response.

"Busy? That's all I get?" He glared, "for three days? No contact. Nothing. For three days!? I know you like your space (Y/N), but fuck! At least give me a heads up or something. Give me something. I'm dealing with shit from Cuchillos and 19th Street and all you can tell me is that you've been busy? To answer my calls?" He stood up, "fuck that!"

She watched as he began to pace between the kitchen and living room, "I'm sorry… but, uh – a wombat? Do you know –" 

"I don't give a fuck about a wombat, (Y/N)!" He yelled, walking back towards her, "after the second day of you not answering my calls and finding out that you used up a week of your sick leave I sent Sad Eyes and Oso by your place to check if anything had happened," he took a deep breath, "your car was parked in front and you weren't there. Only reason I stayed behind was in case you'd come here. You're here now and you can't even give me a straight answer." 

"A wombat is native to Australia and their poops are cubed," she blurted and giggled, "isn't that funny?"

"(Y/N)."

"Cubed poops, Osc. And, they –" 

"(Y/N)."

"– use it to mark their territory," she whipped out her phone and searched up an image of a wombat to show him, "see? Aren't they cute? Oh and let's look at the –" 

"(Y/N)!" 

She looked up at him, "yes?" 

Oscar huffed and moved towards the door, "you know what? Fuck it, get out. Spend another three days by yourself or whatever. I don't give a fuck anymore," he opened it up, "porque tenía mejores cosas que hacer con mi tiempo." 

(Y/N) knew she messed up. 

She didn't mean to downplay his feelings or dismiss his concerns. She just needed to build her way up to reveal the news. Now, she realised that it would've been easier to come out and say it. Rather than talk about one of the multitude of facts she had read recently. 

"I–I'm sorry, Oscar," she blinked back tears and reached into her jacket pocket, "whenever you called, I wanted to pick up. I really did, but I held back 'cause saying it over the phone wouldn't have been the right thing to do, you deserved to be told upfront." 

His eyebrows furrowed, "(Y/N)? What are you going on about?" 

She stood up, "I've been feeling unwell for a while. At first I thought it was nothing, especially since I decided to indulge in a (burger)." 

"You've told me that your body –" 

"I know… but, I just couldn't help myself, okay?" Pulling out the paper she held it in her hands, "anyway, I went and saw the doctors. I was given some news… and, I distanced myself 'cause I just needed time to think. I'm sorry that I never contacted you, I just needed to get myself together," she held it out to him, "I've gone over my options and… you can be there for them, we don't need to be together."

He walked towards her and took the paper out of her hands, unfolding the paper his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and then a look of realisation came upon him. (Y/N) took a step back as he stepped forward, she looked down at her feet until she felt his hands lift her chin. Her eyes connected with his. 

"You're pregnant." 

"I'm sorry." 

"No, (Y/N), don't ever apologise for this, okay? This is as much as me as it is you." He pecked her forehead, 

She took his hands away from her face, "like I said you don't need to be -" 

"Why wouldn't I want to be a part of this? Be a part of this family. My family." 

"You… still want me? No, wait – us?" 

Oscar wrapped his arms around her, "absolutely bonita!" he held her at arm's length, looking into her eyes, "we're in this together."  

"Really?" 

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere, baby." He replied, easing her worries, "I'm gonna do better than what was done for me. This baby is gonna know who their dad is. And that no matter what, their dad's gonna be there for them." 

Not to be the bearer of bad news, she knew it had to be said, "what about Cuchillos and 19th Street?' 

"They'll be handled. You and our little blessing come first." 

(Y/N) gave a watery smile and placed his hands on her stomach. There wasn't a bump yet, it would probably pop out in a few months. Oscar bent down and placed his forehead against hers. The couple continued to embrace each other, enjoying the sense of peace that surrounded them. 

When they broke apart, he held her face in his hands again, "we're gonna be dope parents." 

- ♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ - 

Spanish Translation(s): 

Está roto tu celular? - is your phone broken? 

Porque tenía mejores cosas que hacer con mi tiempo - because I've got better things to do with my time.

Bonita - beautiful