#i don't care if he grew a beard for it he better fucking turn into a big wolf or i'm killing

[pa-pa-plasma]

I think we should start executing people who design werewolves to look like a regular person with maybe one minor surface level "animalistic" feature because what the actual fuck are you even using werewolves for if you're not making them either big furry inhuman monsters or straight up wolves

[the-froschamethyst4]

New Hair

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Soap x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, new hair, married couple, hair pulling, groping, kissing/making out, eating out, fingering, some dirty talking, some praising, dick sucking,

𖤐Summary: Soap got a new hair cut and wants to show it off to his wife in the most...intimate way as possible

————

————

Soap had his clippers in his hands, laptop opened and sitting on his bathroom counter, he had watched a tutorial on how to cut his hair into a modern mullet.

He's let his hair grow out long enough now and he just wanted to fade the edge just a little but was a little nervous on doing it.

Y/n his wife of 4 years sat in the living room book in hand and glasses on her face. She didn't know about Soap cutting his hair right now, she didn't even know about his plan on turning it into something new.

When he was in the military he did have his hair in a small mohawk but after he left grew it out, took really good care if it, made sure it was even, and soon Soap realized his hair is a bit curly.

BUZZZZZZ

"John! What are you doing in there?" She asked.

"Nothing!" He yells as he started doing his hair. "Trimming the beard." He lied.

Y/n rolled her eyes knowing he doesn't have a beard. "You mean trimming the stubble?"

"YEP!!" She rolls her eyes again.

As her eyes read the pages she heard Soap place the laptop back on the coffee table and he sat in his usual spot on the couch, the middle cushion and he placed Y/n's feet in his lap.

He wasn't gonna say anything about his hair, he was going to let her figure out something is different first.

She moves her book from her face and looked at her husband, then she notice.

"You didn't trim anything but your hair," placed her bookmark in her book and moved onto Soap's lap.

"Baby, if you wanted to get on my lap-"

"Oh shush," she ran her fingers through his hair and touched the sides of it. "Your hair looks amazing," she says with a smile on her face.

Soap smirked and his hands went to her waist down to her butt squeezing her.

"You want to get a better and closer look?"

"What do you mean? I can see it just fine like this," she says, looking down at him who just rolled his eyes.

"No, my love," he pushed her against the couch, he's above her and started to kiss her lips and then her neck.

"S-Soap, what are you doing?"

"Letting you get a closer look," he says as he starts moving downward and kissing her stomach till he reached her thighs. Her fingers got tangled into his hair.

"Soap, c-calm down now," she giggles at him. His fingers hooked her sweatpants and pulled them down off her lower half, his fingers then pulled down her panties.

He licks a stripe between her wet folds, her fingers get tangled into his hair. She moans when feeling his tongue push inside of her. Her head goes back and she lets out a soft moan.

"O-Oh my god," she moans. He smirks into licking her. His hands moved from her plush thighs to squeezing her chest.

She let's out a soft moan as her fingers tightened around his dark hair. "D-Don't stop." She moans.

"Wasn't going to," he smirks.

"H-Holy fuck," her head went back and her thighs squeezed around her head. He moans, this was Soap's dream, getting crushed by his wife's sexy thighs.

His hands gripped her thighs again just resting them not wanting to push them open.

"H-How's the hair?" He asked. She sits up just a bit and starts messing with it to see it better, moans still escaping from her lips as she looks at it.

"Sexy," she moans and falling on her back again.

"You are so sexy, when you're like this," Soap says, licking her clit and sucking on her clit as well. She moans and started to pull at his hair lightly.

"Oh m-my god, oh my god," she moans, she felt herself close to coming on his tongue. She squeezed around him and he pulled his tongue out.

"Damn are you trying to cut my tongue off?" He laughs.

"I'm s-sorry," she moans, he looks down seeing cum drop from her, he goes back down and licks her up and kissing between her folds as well. She moans again and grips the couch cushion behind her head.

Soap then licks his fingers and then slowly pushing them inside of her, he starts pushing them slowly in and out of her pussy, she moans throwing her head back, his lips went back to kissing just above her pussy.

Her hands went to his new cut hair and gently pulled at his hair.

"I f-feel like I'm g-going to c-cum again," she stutters. He smirks, thrusting his fingers in and out quickly and licking at her bud, she whines and pulled at his hair earning a groan from his lips.

"Fuck," he cusses under his breath. Watching his wife get off on her fingers and mouth made him loose his mind.

Soap felt his fingers getting squeezed by her and then he felt hot cum leak onto his fingers, he smirks.

"So the hair?"

"I love it," she giggles at him.

--------

After a while Soap was sitting on the couch watching some reruns of his game that he missed last week, he placed his arms on the back of the couch.

Pop

"I'm not done," he says, looking down at his wife, her face against his standing cock.

"I know...I'm sorry...I just...can't...can't breath," she says, catching her breath.

"Aww, my pretty little wife," he says, cupping her face. "Keep going," he says.

She swallows a lump in her throat and went back to sucking him off, it was only fair since he helped her, it was her turn to return the favor.

She bobs her head up and down, her tongue swirling around his dick, her tongue then laying flat on his tip as cum squirted from his tip earning a groan from him.

"Holy fuck, how are you so good at that?" He asks.

"I learned from my husband," she says. "I know what he likes."

"Damn straight, come up here, angel," he says. She stood up and moved to his lap, she wraps her arms around his neck and they both started a heavy make out session.

He grabs his dick pumping it a few times and then placing it just under his wife and making her sit on him.

"Now." He pulls away from her lips. "Start bouncing," he smirks.

[petew21-blog]

Why can't you be like Wyatt?

Charmed fanfiction. For now, PLEASE, don't send more Charmed fanfiction.

Why can’t I be like Wyatt? Chris couldn’t be happier. He preserved his own existence in the future and secured his birth. Spending so many months in the past among his aunts and parents was kind of therapeutic for him, even if they didn’t know who he was. But he still hasn’t prevented Wyatt from becoming evil, so he’d have a lot of time to go before he could return to the future and live a happy family life.

There had to be a way how to speed up the process. He went to the Book of Shadows to revise the information he knew about the demons hoping that he would find some new info. As he was browsing through the pages, his mind was elsewhere. He thought back on his youth, how Wyatt was always better than him, stronger, the older brother. „Why can’t I be as strong as Wyatt?“ It went on repeat, as he considered how much easier Wyatt would’ve had it had their roles been reversed, until he couldn’t bear it anymore and said it out loud. „Why can’t I be like Wyatt?!?“ he felt a strange surge of warmth under his fingers touching the book. He turned over his hands, but there was nothing wrong with them. Shrugging it off, he went back downstairs.

As he left the room, the book turned to a page that said Old regrets. The page said:

"Winds of time, turn back today,

Undo regrets that cloud my way.

By moon's light and star's true gleam,

Let what was wrong now be redeemed.

Shift the past, reshape the scene,

So all I've wished for can be seen."

As days went by Chris felt himself become more confident about his daily actions. He used to worry about how others saw him and now he simply didn’t. Others noticed his newfound confidence, but just as Chris, they didn’t pay much attention to it. Chris decided to change his wardrobe. He threw away all the colourful clothing and dressed more in black. Every jeans now sported a new black belt. His watch, his necklace, his shoes. Everything was now black. He shrugged it away for trying to be more elegant.

Months went by, his hair grew longer, his muscles got bigger and his personality wasn’t as pleasant as before. He spent less and less time researching for a way to save the future or even just at the Halliwell manor and more in the clubs, drinking, partying and just letting loose, doing whatever he wanted in the moment. It even involved some personal gain magic over time, but who cared anyway?

One day, Chris looked at himself in the mirror. He’d grown taller and decided to grow his hair out more. His long hair touched his shoulders. He’d even grown a scruffy beard he loved to brush his hand over. But now, as he looked at himself in the mirror, he realised for the first time how much he has changed over the months. „Holy shit, I’m turning into Wyatt“ as he said that, his eye colour changed, his hair turned blond and his face morphed. He was becoming fully Wyatt. He stood and watched as all the details of his body now resembled the Wyatt from his own time.

Chris smiled. „Wow, fuck me…I’m exactly like Wyatt“ his mischievous smile appeared. He scanned his new face in the mirror, touching his lips, feeling the vibrations of his voice as he touched his neck while speaking. He felt so powerful. He could take over the world now if he wanted to. He shouldn’t be hidden in the shadows trying to save mortals. He should be worshipped. He should be… feared. Yes, everyone should fear and worship the ground he walked on. He was Wyatt Halliwell and he had the power to make his will reality. He would make it so. Wyatt flexed in the mirror, laughing. He grabbed his bulge and proudly looked at himself in the mirror. „I got a lot to be proud of. Well, everything about me really.“

As he embraced his new self, Wyatt blinked. What happened? He was fighting the resistance and now he was in some shitty hotel room. Where the hell was he? He looked up and saw himself in the mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary. He went to loom out of the window. He was in San Francisco, but it wasn’t his city. In his time there wasn’t a Golden Gate anymore. He made sure of that. „I’m in the past. How did I get here?“

His phone rang. It was Piper. „Hey, Chris. We haven’t seen you for a while. Are you ok?“ Wyatt paused for a while before answering. He was in the past. Chris shouldn’t exist yet. Why was she asking for him? As he was pondering these questions, a part of him wanted to say that he will come by to see them, but instead he just heard himself say: „Wrong number.“ Piper said back: „Wrong number? But this is Chris’s phone“ Wyatt had had enough of this. His little brother was worthless. „No. It’s mine and my name is Wyatt“ he finished as he turned off the call.

He orbed to the manor and saw his mother and two aunts in front off him Piper: “Wyatt? What have you done to Chris?!?“ Wyatt: „I would love to know that I hurt him somehow, but as far as I know I just got here. So, either you let me have that book for a while and send me back to the future, or I will destroy your time“ The Charmed sisters wanted to capture Wyatt, turn him into a good person again, but that was something that they needed Chris for. They didn’t know the original cause that turned Wyatt evil and Wyatt soon grew bored of them. He orbed them somewhere for the time being, Piper and Phoebe separate from Paige of course.

The use of power felt good. He was power made physical: he had the right to exercise that power and rule. But before he could get part one of his plan and takeover the magical nexus of the manor for even more power, a time portal opened and he stepped out himself. „I know I look gorgeous shapeshifter, but do tell me, why do I sense my own self when I sense you?“ the newly arrived version of him said. Wyatt turned around and saw his own face staring back at him. „I’m you, but I see we’ve got a lot of catching up to do“ Wyatt explained to his doppelganger that he didn’t know how he arrived in the past and demonstrated his vast power as evidence of his identity.

The other Wyatt grinned and did the same. „Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Well if you are, you should“ Wyatt said: „To take over the world together now instead of in twenty years?“ The other Wyatt: „Together!“ Together they absorbed the nexus, their bodies now radiating power as they felt like gods even more than before. They just had to show themselves to the most powerful evil beings, beat them into submission easily and humanity would be quick to fear and worship them as their godkings after a few unnatural disasters.

Another Charmed story request by anonymous author who helped with editting

Charmed: Chris (in the past) accidentally wishes he was as powerful as Wyatt and transforms into the evil future version of Wyatt (or possesses him) and is taken over by Wyatt's personality.

[haleswallows]

I’ve Been the Forest and the Fire (and the Witness Watching It) DC x DP Dead on Main (Jason Todd/Danny Fenton) Teen Soulmates AU

Chapter 2!

Teaser:

"This is bullshit."

His soulmate turns around at the sound of his voice. Freezes. He looks tired and scrungly and of course. Because the universe hates Jason, so of course the asshole is also in the class he's taking for his Maths Gen-Ed credit.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jason stands over him. "Aren't you supposed to be really good at math, or something? Why are you in an intro level class?"

His eyes are huge. "I don't test well and did bad on the placement exam."

"Great," Jason seethes. A twisting in his gut makes him feel like he's about to throw up. The soul bond demands proximity with his 'other half'. Chronically contrarian, Jason fights the instinct and the rising nausea before giving in. He slides into the desk next to his soulmate. The discomfort immediately eases. "Fucking fantastic."

There's attempts at a conversation. Jason ignores it in favor of getting himself settled. Pulls a copy of the list of accommodations he'll need that the Student Affairs Office helped him put together. Subtly scopes the room - for exits, and the best desk for when he brings Ace.

Ignores the put-out expression, the longing looks coming from his right.

Thankfully, the professor focuses on reviewing the syllabus only. And assigns a set of problems. What sort of jerk assigns homework on the first day?

Students scramble for the exit as soon as the dismissal comes. Asshole looks like he has something to say, but Jason just… he can't. Refuses. Before he gets subjected to what the fuck ever the asshole thinks he needs to say, Jason snags the professor.

He's vaguely aware of his soulmate lingering, and then eventually leaving. His gut clenches and his hands shake.

•○●○•

Jason stops in his tracks. The asshole looks at him. Jason glares back.

He's in Jason's literature course too.

"Whoa, 'scuse me," another student mumbles, side-stepping around Jason and his cane where he's standing stock-still in the doorway. Fuck.

OK. Fine. He has two classes with the piece of shit. Jason's dealt with worse.

He doesn't sit next to him, finding a seat in the second row and near the door. It's strategic. Less walking, a better view of the board. There'll be more room in the aisle for Ace when he starts bringing him. Jason stakes his claim - this'll be his desk for the semester.

The asshole can sit in the back like a delinquent. Jason doesn't care. He can't see him from here anyway.

The professor - mid-30s, bearded, Southern accent - makes them do an ice-breaker game. Jason wants to die.

Professor 'Just call me Justin' holds up a bag of Jolly Ranchers, directs them to take one and pass the bag down the line. Jason fiddles with the wrapper of his 'cherry' (it doesn't taste like cherry, he can't be convinced otherwise) while the bag makes its journey, and Justin makes an odd list on the board.

Grape for a favorite poem, Blue Raspberry for a pet's name, Lime for best vacation, Watermelon for 'what you wanted to be when you grew up', and Cherry for favorite food.

"Alright, everyone got a candy?" Justin claps the chalk dust from his hands. "Great, I'll start. I'm Justin," the class titters. Yes, they know. "Lime! So, I taught English in Japan for four years. My favorite vacation was to some traditional hot springs in Osaka. Next…. you!"

The random student pointed to blushes. "Oh! Uh, Karmine. Blue, my family's dog is named Cesar."

"Hi, Karmine! Pick your victim."

She shrinks a little, points randomly. It goes on like that - name, flavor, stupid random fact. It's dumb. There's cringing and some laughs at the stupid pet names. Then someone - Samir, Jason now knows - points to him.

As if he isn't a local celebrity that's had his photo in every newspaper multiple times since he was 12. And that tabloids theorize about his relationship with Bruce, or why Bruce is 'ashamed of him' as a cripple.

"Jason, chili dogs from Dave's stand." In between the pitying looks, a few nod knowingly. Locals, then. He ignores the smattering of whispers, no doubt picking up on theory crafting about him where Vicki Vale left off.

He taps the desk of the guy next to him. And away it goes, another name, flavor, and answer.

Jason's tapped out, vaguely listening but mostly only keeping track of who hasn't gone. It's background noise, all he wants is to talk to the professor and go the fuck home. When —.

"Danny. Uh, watermelon. I wanted to be an astronaut." The asshole smiles shyly, then ducks his head and rubs the back of his head.

Gross. Jason knows his name now. He frowns and the asshole — Danny — sees it, the smile dropping off his face.

Gross. He turns forward, Danny pointing to one of the few remaining people. It's hard to breathe and the wrapper of the Jolly Rancher is sticky when he unwraps it. Pops it in it his mouth.

Gross. Fake cherry.

[homosociallyyours]

Megan, I love your brain and I'd love to know what you think about the most recent tidal wave to hit our wee fandom. Is this just gonna be a brief reprieve before we get Aloucia, did Eleanor decide she finally wanted a meaningful life of her own beyond bathroom pics and dog walking? What do you reckon ? X

ok so THIS is the ask I've been wanting to get to!! thank you to everyone who sent me asks and helped me open my computer!

and MAJOR thanks to @goodshiplarrypop for asking my opinion on something?? It's rare and a fun lil treat! AND it's probably for the best that I'm not answering when this is actually the main discourse, bc as much as I do like sharing my thoughts I do NOT like being pulled into disc horsing around, really? That said. I'm putting my answer behind a cut:

I will preface this by saying that this is all my opinion and conjecture, and I don't expect anyone to agree with me. I'm also not interested in debating, so if you don't agree with me that's chill BUT I have no need to hear about it.

I think we've seen signs that Eleanor has been doing her own thing and developing a stronger work life for a while now. She's been working with a lot more brands, and honestly from what I can tell she seems to be having success as a luxury influencer. Her follower count is high enough and even with comments turned off on posts she still gets decent engagement in terms of likes and stuff.

It does appear to me that she loves animals, and I will be surprised if we don't see her with Cliff sometimes. A big part of me thinks that this ending is meant to be a "more mature" one for her and Louis-- they wanted different things and grew apart but still care for each other vs. him basically being a cheater party boy (or having that for her). If that's the approach they take, it could do a lot for allowing Louis down time-- lots of "will they get back together?" moments based simply on her proximity to him BUT allowing her the freedom to actually be out in the world with any man she's really seeing.

For Louis, this is a great chance to be Single and career focused, and honestly kinda makes his interactions with F over the past year+ make a lot more sense to me. I think it's entirely possible that the idea of hanging out with a kid every once in a while-- something Louis likes doing and is good at --might feel like a better use of his time than going on week long trip or doing a papped night out to feed into a straight guy narrative. And obviously timing-wise the January-January ending feels like something that's been planned and expected.

That said, is Aloucia coming asap? I mean. I would be surprised? But I often am! I have a feeling that it's meant more as a place holder, like maybe something more could connect them in a few months. Maybe it was a wink and a nod to anyone who pays attention to stunts. Maybe he likes pictures of fireworks! I truly don't know.

One thing for sure is that if she does happen to stunt with him, I plan on being really annoying and pointing out the ways that beards can't win and are treated horribly no matter what they do or how they do it. It's the one place where I feel like outside critique of larries actually holds water, and I just hate to see antis taking that W on us when we could honestly just thrive by saying less! OH ALSO i find it funny that half of Clexa and half of Larry could be "together" like WHAT IT THE ACTUAL FAN FICCING FUCK??? hilarious!!!! like reliving the 2010s!

ok I think that's all I've got to say for now! hopefully you don't regret sending me this ask!

[mochiusagifanficchaos]

Crowley x Reader • You look like you've gone through hell•

Trigger Warning: mentions abuse and violence

This is an older fanfic I wrote some years ago but I still like the plot, please forgive me my shitty writing from back than 😂

A door slammed loudly and woke you up, angry footsteps followed and something was thrown to the ground, shattering on the wooden floor.

You flinched and looked at your alarm clock on your nightstand with sleepy eyes: 2 o'clock in the morning...

The door to the bedroom was slammed open and you already knew what was going to happen.

Scared you hid under your blanket, acting as if you would sleep.

But your boyfriend didn't care about it. He grabbed you by your shoulder and pushed you out of the bed: "Make me something to eat!", he ordered as you whined because you had hit the nightstand with your shoulder.

Without a word you stood up and went downstairs in the kitchen, making a Peanut-butter-jelly sandwich and placing it on the table.

You heard your boyfriend stomping down the stairs and mentally prepared for whatever he might get angry with you again.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!", he yelled, pointing at the sandwich and threw the plate to the ground. "A sandwich?! I'm hungry and you dare to make me a sandwich?!"

With every word he walked nearer to you and was now standing right before you. You could smell the alcohol he had been drinking like every night and didn't dare to look him in the eyes. Angry he pushed you and you fell backward, hitting the oven behind you once again.

"Go and get me a pizza."

With tears in your eyes, you rushed into the bathroom. Your reflection in the mirror showed a pale girl with deep eye rings, bruises all over your body and a skeleton like build.

Tears swell up again as you saw yourself in such a bad state.

As tears rolled down your cheeks you asked yourself how it had come to this. When it had started that he hit you. When the good times had stopped. You sobbed and buried your face in your hands.

"(Y/N)!", you could hear him yelling out of the living room. "Go, now!"

Sniffing you pulled yourself together, wiping the tears away, put some makeup on and tied your hair into a messy bun before you walked out of the bathroom again.

Your boyfriend was sitting on the couch, watching some sort of porn and had another bottle of beer in his hand.

You opened the front door and the cool air hit you, immediately crawling under your t-shirt and sweatpants.

Shivering you walked through the empty streets, passing closed stores and full bars.

In front of one bar, you suddenly felt the urge to stop. You knew it wasn't a good idea to go drinking now since your boyfriend would beat the crap out of you when you come back in the morning but you didn't care right now. Determined you opened the door and walked straight to the counter, you sat down on one of the stools and studied the small menu, not sure what you wanted to order to drink yourself away.

"Two Whiskeys, please.", a deep voice next to you ordered and the next second you had one in front of you. Wondering you turned around to get a look at the man next to you.

He looked handsome with his black suit and his bristly beard, on his lips played a charming smile and he looked at you with mysterious eyes.

"Hello, darling", he greeted you and sipped at his Whiskey.

Suddenly you recognized the man. It had been years since you met him and you had nearly forgotten him but now he was sitting in front of you: Crowley, the King of the Crossroads.

"May I ask your name?", he asked politely, it seemed like he didn't recognize you yet, no wonder because of the way you looked now.

" It's (Y/N).", you smiled weakly.

This name rang a bell in his head, he narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a second before he finally recognized you: "(Y/N)?? My god, what happened to you?"

"Ironically for the king of the crossroad to talk about god", you chuckled, trying to change the subject.

" It's King of hell now.", he corrected you with a haughty look and crooked smile.

"Oh,", you answered in surprise. "So you moved up the ladder, huh?", you swayed the Whiskey in your glass, watching the liquid swirl.

"Now tell me what had happened to you. You look like you've gone through hell, and I must know it."

Sighting you took a long drink from your Whiskey before you cleared your throat: "My boyfriend became a pisshead and found fun in beating me up."

That was all you had to say about it, it explained everything and you rather stayed short about your problems since you didn't want any pity.

You gulped the rest of the whiskey down and felt the familiar burning in your throat. Crowley passed you his glass and you took it thankfully.

His face got serious: "Why haven't you left him?"

"I couldn't.", you replied between sips. " He is the only one left in my life. I would have nowhere to go and if I go who knows what he might do to me."

He looked at you as if someone had hurt his puppy: "Do you still love him?"

You needed to think for a moment, it wasn't easy to answer this question. You still loved the man he had been, when you looked at old pictures you felt butterflies in your stomach but then you looked at him now and it felt like somebody was stabbing those butterflies, leaving nothing but an empty feeling and sadness.

"No..", you answered Crowley's question with a shaking voice and attempted to gulp the rest of the Whiskey down again but Crowley stopped you, taking the glass out of your hand and putting it back on the counter: " Don't waste the good stuff, darling."

You sighed again, running your fingers over your face and through your hair.

"You know, I could help you.", he stated and you huffed amused: " I'm still not gonna make a deal, Crowley."

"How sad...But I already doubt it.", he said and stood up.

A feeling of disappointment grew inside you as you heard him walk away.

Maybe you should have made a deal. Crowley's hell couldn't be worse than your hell on earth.

You flinched as suddenly someone placed his hand on your hip and a hot breath brushed your right ear: " I'm still going to help you, love.", Crowley behind you whispered.

Your body tingled at his touch and his low voice like it hasn't done in years.

It felt so much better than the burning of whiskey in your throat.

"And how do you wanna do that?", you finally asked as the wave of desire had finally stopped rushing over you.

"Let's say...", he lightly kissed your neck. "He fell down the stairs and broke his spine..."

Crowley knew exactly damn well which buttons he needed to push to get the reaction out of you he wanted.

You bit your lip and inhaled sharply.

"Why would you do that for me? What are you hoping to get in return?"

He chuckled: "Oh, I already did it."

And with that, his hand left your hip and he was gone, leaving you uncertain about if he had said the truth.

Back at home, you found your boyfriend lying on the floor, unconscious but still breathing.

You called an ambulance and they first wanted to take you with them to take a look at your bruises and wounds but you were able to shrug them off.

Now you were sitting on the couch, staring into the black tv screen and didn't know what to do.

Meanwhile, Crowley visited your boyfriend in the hospital, he appeared in his room with a cocky grin on the face and his hands in the pockets of his black suit.

"Hello, Zac." [Let's just call him Zac], Crowley greeted and Zac jumped in surprise, letting out a quiet scream.

"What the hell?!", he yelled and threw a glass after Crowley, but he easily eschewed it.

" That's where I come from, I'm impressed you noticed it so fast.", Crowley chuckled and Zac looked at him with terror as Crowley's eyes switched to red and back.

"I heard you will never be able to walk again. Must be worse for a football player."

Zac stared at him with furious eyes, not really getting where this was going.

Crowley calmly walked towards the bed, Zac was sitting on.

"I could give you your legs back. You would be able to walk again and play football", Crowley's smirk grew as he saw how Zac was thinking about it. "What do you think?"

"What do you want in return?"

"Your soul."

Zac eyes narrowed in disbelief: "H-how?"

"Oh, you don't have to do anything for it. I'm just gonna claim it someday.", Crowley licked his lips, already knowing that Zac was about to say yes.

"Okay, deal.", he finally said and Crowley grinned once again. "I still can't feel my legs. Isn't the deal sealed yet?"

"It's sealed with a kiss."

"No way!", Zac shouted and Crowley sighted: "Normally our girl demons do the boys but there was no one available today, sorry."

With a disgusted expression, Zac pressed his lips onto Crowley's and pulled away fast.

"It was a pleasure to make a deal with you.", Crowley said and disappeared again.

At home you still sat on the couch, staring blankly at the tv screen.

Suddenly you heard a rustle behind you and turned around, only to see Crowly standing in the kitchen.

He had lifted his right foot and looked at it grossed out: " I knew it wouldn't be neat and tidy here because I haven't announced that I would come over but I wouldn't have expected that.", he said and pointed at the pb&j sandwich which was now sticking under his shoe.

A giggle escaped your mouth and he smiled softly at you before he whipped the sandwich away.

"We don't have much time, darling. Zac will be here in at least one hour so we need to hurry.", he said and grabbed your coat from the closet next to the door.

" What, how? The doctors told me that he wouldn't be able to walk again.", you asked puzzled and stood up.

"I made a deal with him, he can walk again. Now get your favorite belongings so that we can go.", he explained to you and you looked at him in disbelief. " So you only 'helped' me to make a deal with him?", you asked angrily.

Crowley walked over to you and looked you deep in the eyes as he spoke: "No, the other way around, love. I made a deal with him to help you. He only got three days until I'll claim what is mine."

You bit your lip and quickly turned away, walking upstairs to pack a bag with your clothes.

'(Y/N), don't even think about it!', you thought to yourself. 'He's the King of Hell and only playing with you!'

A bit grumpy about yourself you threw your clothes in your bag, hurried in the bathroom to get all your stuff and then rushed down the stairs.

Crowley noticed the grumpy look on your face: "Everything okay, darling?"

"S-sure,", you stuttered. " We can go."

He narrowed his brows, questioning himself what might be up with you, then he showed you a piece of paper: "I wrote him a goodbye letter from you. Maybe this will stop him from searching for you."

Surprised you took and read it: "Dear Zac, I'm sorry but I can't live like this anymore. I wish you the best. Love, (Y/N)."

"Did I hit your tone?", he asked and you just nodded, placing the paper on the kitchen table.

Your eyes rested on an old picture from you and Zac. He had an arm around your shoulders and kissed you on the cheek.

It felt wrong for you to go now, to just leave him since you always hoped he would get better again. But deep inside you knew that you had lost him.

Crowley laid his hands on your shoulder and turned you around: "We need to go now. He doesn't deserve this look on your face.", he said caring and before you knew it he had teleported you with him.

A bit dizzy you looked around in the new room.

It smelled and looked like a hotel room, there was one small bed beside a window, a little nightstand next to it and another door on the opposite, you guessed that there would be a bathroom behind.

"This was the best I could get in this short time, I hope it's okay, my queen.", Crowley said as he scratched his head.

You walked over to the bed, acting like you overheard his nickname for you and placed your bag on it.

"It's fine, don't worry.", you answered and failed to hide a smile.

The way he cared for you was so sweet and made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Are you going to stay with me the next days?", you asked with a bit of hope in your voice.

" No, I have some business to do. I'm sorry, darling", he answered and you sighted in disappointment.

"But I'm going to leave two of my men here. They will watch after you and protect you from Zac."

He snapped his fingers and two men appeared in the room, next to the door.

Crowley walked over to you, bend forward and whispered in your ear: "Don't go outside alone and don't do something stupid. I know you. Be a good girl, for me, okay?"

Shivers ran down your body at his words and the way his breath hit your ear: "Okay..."

Your gaze rested on his lips as he returned to his upright position, suddenly feeling the burning desire to kiss him.

Little did you know that he felt the same way, but he turned around and grinned to himself.

"Watch after her and don't leave her alone.", he ordered his minions and they nodded.

Then he turned back to you: " I have to go now. Goodbye, darling.", he bowed slightly and disappeared.

Sighting you threw yourself on to the bed, exhausted and looked at the clock: 6 o'clock in the morning, no wonder that you were tired. As you tried to recall everything that had happened in the last hours, your eyes closed and you drifted off into a restless sleep.

A loud crash woke you up, someone groaned in pain and something fell to the ground.

It took you some seconds to realize that you weren't at home anymore and that this probably wasn't just a drunk Zac, but also a really angry one.

You jumped out of the bed, ready to defend yourself, sick of always letting him beat you up.

In the light of the lantern which shined through the window, you could see two bodies lying on the floor, they didn't move or made any sounds. Fear crawled under your skin as you realized that your bodyguards were dead.

You didn't know if Zac actually killed the demons or if they just left in fear.

"Hello, (Y/N).", he said and your muscles tensioned by his cold voice. "Why have you left me? Don't you love me anymore?"

With every step he made towards you, you took one back until you hit the wall behind you: "Leave... Leave me alone!", you stuttered, feeling your pulse rising as he stood so near to you. His hand grabbed you by your throat and pushed you against the wall, making it difficult for you to breath.

" You think you can just walk away from me? Just write a goodbye letter and be gone?", the pressure on your throat increased. "Oh, how wrong you were. I'm not gonna let you go, my princess."

Tears swell up in your eyes, hearing him using your old nickname.

Formerly, when he called you this you could hear his love for you in his voice, but now you could only here obsession.

"Please don't hurt me...", you whispered between short breaths and sobbing.

"I'm sorry, but you're the one who made this ugly.", he answered and the next second his first hit your stomach, knocking all the air out of your lungs before he pushed you to the ground.

Coughing you tried to get your breath back, the room around you was blurry and you couldn't straighten your upper body since your stomach hurt so much.

You heard him unbuckle his belt and flinched as he snapped the leather against each other.

He kneeled down in front of you and grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks: "Are you going to come back with me now?"

You thought about every option, but everyone was even worse than the one before.

'Crowley!', you screamed his name in your head, hoping that he would somehow hear you.

Zac shouted something but you didn't hear it, you tried to shut everything out, cried Crowley's name over and over again in your head and became numb of the pain as Zac hit you with his belt.

Suddenly the hitting stopped and everything was silent, scared you dared to look up.

Zac stood there with his arm raised, the belt in his hand.

Crowley stood behind him, holding his arm in place.

It was like the time had frozen at this moment.

You didn't dare to speak.

Zac, who had turned his head towards Crowley didn't dare to speak.

And Crowley, whose eyes were red, didn't need to speak.

"I could kill you.", he broke the silence. "I just need to snap my fingers and you would be dead."

Scared and angry Zac freed himself from Crowley's grip, letting the belt fall to the ground.

"Please don't, Crowley...", you begged with a shaky voice and stood up.

Both of you looked at each other, he felt your pain and it took him all he had to hold himself back.

"You know him?!", Zac suddenly yelled and you flinched. " Did I fell down the stairs because of you?! You made a deal with him, didn't you?"

Crowley answered for you before you even knew what to say: "No, she didn't. She wasn't as bloody stupid as you to make a deal with me. But you are right in one point, I'm responsible for your fall. And I hope it had hurt."

All the anger and hatred Crowley had for Zac swang in his voice as he spoke the last sentence.

"By the way, I just decided to claim your soul today.", Crowley started in an ice-cold voice and smiled evilly after he saw the fear crawling into Zac as he heard a loud growl from behind him.

"I would recommend you to run. My little hellhound is fast."

Juliet growled again, dangerously and Zac ran off, as fast as he could, slamming the door after him which Juliet tore down seconds after as she jumped through it.

It was silent again. You stared at the door in shock. Not sure if you were happy or sad about what just happened. Suddenly all the pain rushed over you, mentally and physically and the tears, which you were holding back for so long streamed down your cheeks. Loud sobbing you collapsed to the ground.

Crowley caught you, embracing you as you both sat on the ground now.

"It's okay, I'm here, no one can hurt you now.", he whispered calming as he held you in his arms.

Crying you pressed yourself against his chest, sobbing and sniffing and realizing that it wasn't just because of the pain, but also because of relief.

It was over.

You wouldn't come home to an angry boyfriend anymore who yelled at you every day and hit you.

You wouldn't come home in fear anymore.

You could finally live again.

......................................................................

"Thank you...", you mumbled into his shirt as the tears stopped rolling down your face.

Crowley cupped your face between his hands as he lifted your chin to make you look at him.

Your cheeks were red and your eyes puffy, probably making you look like a fish but his eyes got softer and a small smile appeared on his lips.

Gently he placed a warm kiss on your forehead and then pulled you back into a tight embrace.

This time it was you who smiled. Sometimes actions do say more than words...❤

......................................................................

Sooo, this was it!

I hope you enjoyed this one-shot, and yes I know, it's pretty long🙈 (I really didn't mean to write so much!)

The ending is separated by the way because I first wanted to finish it with the sentence "You could finally live again", but I thought some fluff at the end wouldn't be bad ;)

It would mean much to me if you leave a vote and comment🙇

Sending you all my love, thank you for reading! ❤❤❤

My Wattpad: @/lilakudo

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 15

WARNING: Mature scenes ahead!!! ;)

A/N: Future u, i hope ur ok

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The moonlight glimmered among the stars in the now pitch-black skies, fighting off against the bright lights hanging from above the tent. Bucky's digression to topics regarding his real family (or lack thereof, I think) never wore off, clearly avoiding talking about, dare you say, "the real stuff." But the classic "favorites" section of a date was indeed a delight. You had already covered favorite films (his was The Truman Show, while yours was Forrest Gump; but you also talked about other films that you both shared a liking to — Pulp Fiction, Me, Myself & Irene, Dead Poets Society, The Godfather, the Harry Potter series, Inception, and of course, any films that star the legendary Tom Hanks), favorite music to listen to (you both loved vintage rock and roll), and so much more favorites and would you rather and what ifs and if you weres. But you mostly talked about films — an in-depth discourse on their themes, writing, and cinematography (things you never thought you'd be able to talk about with anyone).

"Have you ever thought about shooting films?" Bucky asked.

You were now lying down on the blanket-covered ground, bodies upside down-like: your forehead aligned with his chin, and his chin aligned with your forehead, as if characters from The Fault In Our Stars.

"I did." You replied. "But I wanted to focus more on photography."

"Why?"

You turned your head, your breath fanning the side of his face. "There's something about the stillness of moving things, of people around me, beautiful people that strikes me as fascinating."

He hummed, closing his eyes. He was saying something, about how art, in all kinds of medium, connected people from all walks of life, how the beauty of it all can be different to each, and how he wished he could make one of his own: to give life to a canvas, to freeze a moment in time, to put his thoughts in pen and paper, and to embody a character different from his. At some point, you could feel him peeling down all his layers but then he stopped talking.

You respected the silence between you and took your sweet time studying his face. The wrinkles on his forehead looked like ridges of sand, ridges people would like to walk on for days, ridges that held untold stories of — perhaps — heartache, failure, and pain. His closed eyelids looked like a sleeping moon, gleaming. Almost touching his cheeks were his long, curved eyelashes. Then, my eyes trailed down to his nose, dotted with freckles, his nostrils releasing small puffs of air; then down to his mouth, slightly agape, and then down to the stubbles on the sides of his face. There was a small scar, almost concealed by where his beard started to grow.

You turned your body sideways, tracing the scar with your finger.

Bucky's body tensed under your touch.

"What happened to this fella?" You whispered, tracing the small scar.

He soon let himself relax, opening his eyes. "Car accident." He replied. "But I don't remember much of it. I don't know where it happened, or how it happened or if I hit something or worse, someone. But Tony told me he took care of everything. I haven't been behind the wheel since then. I fear history will repeat itself."

Then, you remembered all the times you've been in a vehicle with Bucky. Not once was he driving. "How old were you?"

"Nineteen? Twenty? I really don't know." He sighed, closing his eyes once again. It was the first time Bucky told you something so real — a fear, something personal, something close to home. "Hey, y/n?"

"Yes, Bucky?"

"Can you kiss it and make it feel better?"

You giggled, poking the scar. "You've got to be kidding me."

He pouted, his eyes still closed. "Please?"

You sighed, feigning exasperation. "Fine." You planted a soft kiss on the scar, your lower lip catching the rough edges of his beard.

"I'm still not feeling better."

"Oh Bucky, you are such a child." You laughed, giving it another kiss, and then another, and then another and then another, until rough edges turned into the soft textures of his lips. With lips entangled in an unusual position, you brought myself onto your knees, and positioned yourself on top of him — knees on each side of his hips, crotch pressed against his, hands on his jaws, lips on his lips, tongue inside of his mouth.

His hands found your neck, then up your jaws, cupping your face and pulling it closer to his. He then started to rake the roots of your hair, tugging it lightly, making a moan escape your lips. You felt one corner of his mouth turn a bit upward at the sound. He tugged your hair tighter and harder until your lips left his with your head pulled backwards, leaving your bare neck exposed.

Without any hesitation, his mouth moved onto neck. Gratified by the series of moans coming out of your mouth, he sucked deeper into your skin, biting every inch of your neck, making sure to leave damn marks. On impulse, you moved your hips against his, grinding his clothed crotch. Bucky groaned against your skin, his hot breath fanning your neck. You could feel your own wetness in between your thighs as you moved your hips more, Bucky's bulge growing under you getting bigger and bigger. The sensation left you breathless.

And you needed more.

You broke away from his grasp, returning the favor. You kissed him on the lips and moved your way towards his earlobes in which Bucky very much liked; so much that he thrusted his hips upwards, slamming loud onto yours.

"Oh, fuck." You moaned, moving your way towards his neck.

Bucky's hands immediately flew under your shirt. His cold hands making contact with your skin, sending you shivers.

"Wait." He said, pulling away from you. "Is this okay? Are you okay with this?"

You giggled and nodded, kissing him on the mouth to give him permission.

He cut the kiss short. "I'm sorry, but we live in a litigious society so I'm gonna need a verbal reply from you, especially that you're years younger than me."

You chuckled. "Yes, Mr. Barnes. You have my full consent."

He smirked. "Keep calling me that and I'll give you my full consent."

"Shut up already, Mr. Barnes."

He lifted the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, revealing a cotton white bra.

You bit your lip. "If you'd told me about the date, I would've worn a much better one."

"I don't mind." He breathed, sitting up. "I like white on you." He traced the lining of the bra with his finger, together with his eyes. He licked his lower lip before planting a kiss between your breasts. "So pure. Innocent."

"Innocent is not the word to describe me." You smirked. "Remember what I told you before?"

"Hmm, I seem to have forgotten." He teased. "What was it again?"

"I'm a devil on the sheets, Bucky."

"Then show it to me, doll." He purred.

As soon as those words left his mouth, all the worries and fear you talked about with Nat all washed away. And like always, she was again, right.

It was exactly like riding a bicycle.

And you were ready to be in control, in control of a man your senior, and to unleash something inside you you've never seen in quite a while.

You grabbed Bucky's face and kissed him on the mouth while pulling his shirt over his head. Every inch of his naked sculpted upper body glistened under the lights, like dewy grass under the sun.

You kissed his collarbones, shoulders, and chest. Before you could even move on to his tummy, a strong force came, flipping your body, your back hitting the blanket-covered ground.

"But not before I show it to you first." He growled, reaching something from above. He closed the front of the tent, pulling something from above. Within a second, the lights above went dim. The only light you now had was the moonlight.

You liked it this way. Darkness made you feel safe — but it was the kind of darkness with a sliver of light and Bucky was it. The inside of the tent grew hotter, making your body sweat, or perhaps it was just the sexual heat between you and Bucky as Bucky removed your pants, as well as his, leaving you in just your undergarments.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing up against him, making him feel that you were already dripping for him, that you wanted him.

He moaned inside your mouth as you grinded against each other. His teeth pulled your bra down. With your bare chest exposed, you usually had the instinct to cover them up because they were small for people's taste but you didn't do that with Bucky. He admired them with his eyes, and admired them more with his lips wrapped around your nipples, pulling each of them softly. He then left fluttered kisses on your breasts before moving down to your belly, kissing every curve, every wave fold there ever was, and every stretch mark he came across upon.

His mouth stopped right on the folds of your lower belly, his fingers making their way on your wet cotton panties. His lips went back to yours while his fingers were circling all around you, clothed, making you wetter each second. Then, he slipped your panties aside, taking no time at all in inserting a finger inside.

A moan escaped your lips, opening your mouth more, giving access to Bucky's tongue. With another finger slipping inside, you bit Bucky's lower lip, pulled it away from him. He watched you gasp for air, listened to each moan, and felt you deep inside as he continued to thrust his fingers in you.

"You're quite tight, doll." He said. "I'm going for another to ease you up, okay?"

You nodded then whimpered as soon as a third finger made its way inside. Because you were, in his own words, quite tight, Bucky had a bit of a difficult time moving inside. He pulled away after a few moments, giving you time to catch your breath. He folded your knees, and held your legs in place using his veiny hands. He left a trail of soft kisses on your inner thighs, his teeth grazing on your skin every once in a while. You watched him inched forward, nearing your core. You watched him take delight in each mark he imprinted.

He hooked his thumbs on your panties and slowly slid them down your legs. On his knees, he ravished your body with his eyes, then your face. He leaned down, kissing you

"Beautiful." He mumbled in the kiss.

He soon devoured your pussy, his tongue moving up and down your folds, his upper lip nibbling your clit. You closed your yes, threw your head back and raked his hair with your fingers, guiding his mouth deeper. With his mouth still exploring every bit of you, he inserted two fingers inside. You whimpered at the sensation of both his tongue flicking your clit, and his fingers fucking you.

You moaned louder, arching your back, rolling your eyes at the back of your head. You badly wanted to see him, to watch him greedily eat you but his mouth and fingers felt so good that you couldn't even keep your eyes open. The more you tried to, the faster his mouth and fingers moved. It made your legs tremble under his touch, your thighs pressing closer and closer to his ears, which he didn't like as he kept spreading your legs wider with his other hand.

"Bu-Bucky, please." You gasped. "I'm gonna cum."

"No. Not yet."

With that, he released his mouth and fingers, leaving you suspended in ecstasy. You opened your eyes, seeing Bucky on top of you, his face studying you. Then, he brought his fingers — the same ones that were just inside you — to his mouth, licking them. Now, you really did wish you could've kept your eyes open the whole time.

"You taste good, doll." He said, giving you his fingers.

You opened your mouth and reached for his fingers, sliding up and down, the taste of you sitting on your tongue. You could feel Bucky weaken above you as you continued to suck his fingers. Your right hand moved to his boxers, stroking his clothed hard-on. His eyelids quivered for a moment, losing touch of his dominance. You kissed his fingers one last time and flipped him over, not wasting any damn time taking his boxers off.

He sprung up in front of you. He was big (the biggest you've encountered), and was throbbing under your touch. He was hot, and a little bit wet. You looked at him while you pumped him slowly, then kissed him, returning the pleasure. A breath escaped his mouth as your pace went faster, and faster. His body became weaker under you, his lips agape, surrendering to submission, to your dominance.

Bucky felt so fragile underneath you, not being able to regain the control he once had. He wanted this. He wanted you to show him how much of a devil you were.

You pulled away from his mouth and moved lower on his body, his large, throbbing dick between your eyes. You kissed the top, making his legs quiver. You soon took him in — all of him, which made Bucky grab your head, pull your hair, and guide you all the way. You looked at him as you worked him all the way up, then down, then up and down: his mouth was kept open, a series of moans coming out, and at the same time, gasping for air; instead of eyes closed, his eyes were wide open, looking at the unlit lights above him.

Usually, giving head to people wasn't at all satisfying to you. What would it give you, anyway? It was either forced, or just because they told you to suck them. But with Bucky, you didn't even hesitate on doing so. It wasn't an itch you were trying to scratch away. It was on impulse, an instinct, a desire you wanted. And seeing Bucky in this state gave you so much pleasure.

So much.

Bucky let out the loudest moan, sitting up straight, his chest heaving, trying to catch his breath.

"I need you." He rasped. "Now."

You nodded, satisfied with what you received on his end. You straddled him, grinded on his bare dick, and glazed it with your wetness. He groaned, guiding your hips with his one hand, the other on the ground, keeping himself straight up.

"Don't worry. I'm on the pill." you whispered.

"I thought it's been over a year since you — "

"It's for acne, dumbass." You chuckled. "You can cum inside me if you want. You have my full consent."

"Good."

You held onto his broad shoulders as you lowered myself onto him and within a second, you felt his tip inside.

You bit your lip as you inched yourself lower. With his whole inside you, you leaned your forehead on his shoulder, and let out a small whimper.

"Are you okay?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded and placed a kiss on his neck, reassuring him.

You moved your body up and down, biting your lip to keep small cries from coming out, but soon enough, you were taking in pleasure within pain until all there was was pleasure.

Sweet, sweet pleasure.

You bounced on top of him faster, — god, he felt so big and so good in you — skin slapping on skin, echoing against the thin sheets, with his lips on yours, then on your neck, then on your breasts; his hands on your jaw, on your neck, your breasts (sometimes, together with his lips), on the small of your back, on your hips, then on your ass.

"Oh god, you feel so fucking good." Bucky said, kissing your skin as you kept on bouncing on top of him. "But it's my turn, babydoll."

You moaned at the nickname, making your body frail to move and then the next thing you knew, you were flipped over, with Bucky on his knees, thrusting faster, then deeper as he inched forward, your chests pressed together. Your fingers clawed on his back, his hot breath on your neck, your breath on his ear where he could hear you moaning his name.

"That's right." He whispered, kissing your neck. "Say my name."

You wrapped your legs around his waist (a kind of intimacy you had never done before), and with it, pulled him closer, deeper, giving you an astounding pleasure, making your whole body tremble under him, getting you higher and higher on staggering ecstasy, and sending you over your edge.

You cried out his name one last time, feeling your white juices come on his dick, mixed with his inside you.

"My god," he whispered, "I think I could never get enough of you."

"You just read my mind, Mr. Barnes."

"Hey, I feel a whole lot better now." He winked.

You chuckled.

You caught each others' breaths, kissing one last time before he removed himself from you, and laid down beside you where he wrapped his arms and legs around you, your head on his chest. You weren't the one to cuddle but at that moment, your body, frail and vulnerable, gave in. You didn't want to fight it, anyway. You were both surrounded with each others' pool of sweat but it didn't matter.

You were bathing in bliss.

In this bliss he had given you.

"You're not gonna kick me out the next morning, are you?" You asked, half-joking, scared that you'd be in the same position as that of the woman from before.

"No, doll." He replied, "you have my word," then kissed your forehead.

Bucky pulled you closer, his chin on top of your head. You listened to his heartbeat slow down every five seconds, giving you a rhythm you soon fell asleep to.

[johns-prince]

John also had a lovely mix of masculine and feminine physical traits, though this wouldn't become obvious until 1968. When he was on the skinny side (which I loved, sue me) you could tell how beautifully delicate and dainty his bone structure was, way more than Paul's imo. He had those gorgeous long legs and graceful narrow hips that you most commonly find in fashion models. And I love that until at least 1975, he showcased his body beautifully, especially those legs.

Ironically I feel as if people didn't embrace John's femme beauty as well as they did with Paul. I don't know why. Most people seem to prefer him with the more masculine look of 1966. Which was great as well, he was gorgeous but I am a big fan of the 1968 to 1974 run. Btw, note to fanfic writers: please, show John's body some love, I know Paul is stunning but it's kind of exhausting reading 10 pages about how pretty he is and when it comes to my boy John he barely gets a paragraph 😂

Alright, I feel like I’m probably gonna rub a lot of people in this fandom the wrong way with what I’m going to say but this is my blog and you did send this to my inbox so here we go; At the end of the days these are my thoughts and feelings and I might not articulate them very well or I often ramble till I do!

I have my issues, and a complicated relationship with 1968-70s John Lennon. I love John, and thought him healthy and just right in his body type, basically up until 1968, and it’s spotty onward throughout the 70s. To me, John was naturally masculine looking, there’s not exactly an era or year that I could give you like you gave me [Specifically 1966? What about his teddy boy days? All of the early 60s? Hell even throughout the 70s, to me John still was masculine looking to me] He was a bit awkward in his teenhood, but all the boys were, and gradually grew into his adult body. Boy was built and sturdy, naturally thick and strong. 

So we’re probably split on this, because while you see the positives in 1968-1974/70s John, I only really see the negatives. You say skinny, I say malnourished and/or sickly. Depressed druggie who was pushing everyone and everything he loved away, and becoming pathetically dependent on an individual like Yoko [and the other vultures during that time who were terrible influences] 

George was skinny, John was not well and either starving himself or simply using drugs and alcohol as the basis for his diet. And diets.. don’t even get me started on that, the diets he was on, the unhealthy lifestyle that his wife only seemed to enable and help him get on. 

When I look at George, sometimes I get the need to feed him, like an old Mexican mother. When I look at John, who’d lost an unhealthy amount of weight for what it looked like for his body type, I don’t see delicate and dainty bone structure. I see a man who just, he’s not well, something’s wrong.

I’ll give it to you that 1974 New York photoshoot looked very nice, he had muscle again in his arms, though he was still relatively skinny, he didn’t look sickly, or depressed. So I can give you that period during the 70s, I will give you that [hey he was away from Yoko during this no fucking wonder he looked pretty good here] and that shoot was definitely a model moment, wasn’t it? [Not like he didn’t have many of those moments throughout his life] 

So there moments in the seventies where I think John doesn’t look half bad? Even relatively fine? Certainly, I’m devastatingly attracted to this man, dear God almighty have mercy on my soul yes I am. So I’ll agree that yeah, there were periods during the 70s in which John seemed to hold himself fairly well, I’d still climb it.

But I’m at least willing to admit that when John started his spiraling, in 1968, that he was Not Okay. And I personally believe he wasn’t all that okay throughout most of the 70s too... Maybe my issue isn’t with him being ‘skinny’ as it is I don’t like the underweight/severely underweight look on John, I just don’t. The incredibly unhealthy way he went about losing weight... Physically frail doesn’t fit him, and it only upsets me whenever I see photos of him that show how thin his legs became or how you can see his ribs, just how wasted away he’d look at times throughout the 70s, up until the last days of his life. 

You want a “skinny” or ''skinnier'' John Lennon? A healthy, ‘’skinny/skinnier’’ John Lennon for his body type, is ‘66 and ‘67 in my eyes, and even then it wasn’t a radical change in weight loss; John still looked like John.

And speaking of 1968-1969, or the White Album era; don’t think it isn’t lost on me when I see people making light of John’s unhygienic appearance during the making of the White Album. Boy was depressed and hurting for whatever reason, again, spiraling, and getting lost in Yoko and heroin as a means of escapism and someone to tell him ‘it’s alright it isn’t your fault it’s everyone else’s fault’. Of course he didn’t care much for his personal appearance or hygiene... I will say I appreciate your appreciation for him during that period, instead of getting the whole ‘stinky/smelly rat man.’ Maybe I’m too much of a ‘’stan’’ but I don’t find it very amusing or endearing. 

Don’t find me mocking or ‘’teasing’’ Paul’s depressed ass and his appearance during the breakup period/white album era-- but I suppose it’s because Paul actually tried and wasn’t on hard drugs, and had a good wife, so he was able to wear his depression and struggle with alcoholism a bit better, hmm? I don’t like Paul’s beard simply because I know it was the result of his lack of energy, depression, and falling into the drink-- he simply didn’t feel the need nor had the energy to care for himself, so that’s why he let it grow out. I don’t like it because of that, but that’s as much as you’ll get from me. 

Anyway... Maybe I just don’t see John as characteristically feminine/effeminate as Paul, although he has his moments of acting and wearing clothes that are campy and elegant or give off a softer appearance, specifically around 1968 and throughout the 70s. But otherwise, I can’t agree, John didn’t have the same mixture, or balance of masculine and feminine traits as Paul-- and if it’s only made obvious during the downfall turning point of The Beatles and John (1968), then I don’t think that really counts as a ‘’lovely’’ mix of masculine and feminine traits for the reasons I mentioned. So I’ve got to disagree. John's always come off as much more masculine, or naturally masculine, both physically and characteristically, to me.

You know maybe it’s just the blogs I interact with, but I feel like it’s the other way around. I know I can sometimes come off as aggressive but at the end of the day I don’t necessarily care what one person thinks or believes, since it’s all relatively subjective to our own ideas of things and biases, etc... I have my thoughts and beliefs and theories and whether people agree or disagree with them on tumblr dot com... Well, what’re you gonna do? Nothing, it’s not my problem. 

What I 100% agree on you with is about showing Johnny’s body a bit more love and attention to detail when it comes to writing about him in fanfiction! 

There’s his auburn red hair, a darker ginger, which was thick and fun to watch as it lit up like fire when sunlight hit him, and could easily go wavy and curl when left unkempt and natural. The splattered and scattered galaxies of light freckles up and down his arms, his shoulders, his back, even a couple on his face. His aquiline nose, a relatively square jawline and facial structure, thick, heavy eyebrows which really intensify expressions of rage and hurt, almond shaped eyes which are the color of honey-amber when the light hits them just right and outlined with thick, long lashes, blind as a bat without his glasses but can give a mean squint which either helps scare off trouble, or brings it right to him, especially when he’s got thin bitten lips that could pull off a devilishly cheeky smirk or a no-good, charming grin to showcase teeth with the upper front turned slightly in towards each other, gives that imperfection which truly just perfects it-- a face like that of a tragic hero in a Greek Romance, distinctive and handsome. How he just oozed filthy sex and genuine trouble, sweaty leather and smoky dancehalls and rock & roll that crawls up your spine like an orgasm. Hips that could roll like Elvis and strong legs, thick thighs which would make a lovely place to sit. Broad shoulders, strong arms that could easily manage to lift you up and manhandle you in any way he’d like. Big hands, almost like shovels-- beautiful hands, with fingernails usually bitten short and occasionally had black ink or charcoal under them from when he’d be working on art, and rough, callused fingertips from playing guitar till they split and bleed, add a lovely roughness to any gentle touching he might do. A naturally thick midsection, a normal, healthy layer of fat which covers the sinewy just beneath. Any hair is light, light and lightly colored, on his arms and legs and chest. Cute tush, nice butt, a nice boy butt, slightly muscular bubble butt. 

Fun facts; he had the largest feet out of all four Beatles. John isn’t circumcised. John and George share the same height. John has a surprisingly long tongue. John’s skin tone may be light, but for comparison, he’s much tanner compared to Paul-- he’s a bit more olive or wheat to his skin tone, and tanned very, very well. John’s cheeks could become easily red though. John liked the scent of citrus to wear--  he was also self conscious about the fact he could easily sweat and so usually wore such colognes or scents, didn’t want to smell bad. He started smelling of witch hazel when with Yoko. Despite his issue with sweating, he didn’t smell bad naturally. John was a true romantic, being an artist outside of being a musician/rock and roller-- he just didn’t like to show it, and growing up in his time, you couldn’t. John’s a swimmer, he loved to swim and loved the ocean. 

[liron-ao3]

Honey moon

Johnny looks over the vast hills, soft and ragged all at once. They are dipped in twilight. It's as if God painted the landscape just for him, turned his very being inside out, and used the fragments of Johnny's existence to colour them green, grey, brown, and dots of white. Is it this place he grew up in that made him like this?

Johnny doesn't often reflect about himself. He never had a lot of things that weren't decided for him anyway. No one asked him if he wanted to be a Yorkshire farmer, a motherless child, the son of a man who is ravaged by a stroke. For a long while, the only decisions he could make were what booze to shoot himself off with and which hole to fuck, if there was one available.

Love? Johnny had scoffed at the mere thought of it way too often to count.

Granted, he loves his nan and things between him and his father are way better, now that Johnny isn't so damn angry at himself and his fate; now that he sees a future, not necessarily a bright one but so much more than just survivable.

Still, if he is absolutely honest with himself, when he's out here in the cold, alone, the wind piercingly sharp, tugging on his hair and pinching his skin, his short nails digging into the stone wall he still needs to fix before winter comes, he doubts that he is capable of love.

He knows it's just his stupid brain chemistry. The doctor explained it. His brain is feeding him lies. Still doesn't change that he listens to it when he's on his own too long. Too long often being only a few minutes.

When he's like this, he feels as if it's all a big fat lie, a dream, too good to be true. Life is shite, probably always will be, but it's much more bearable with Gheorghe at his side. He doesn't think of it as shite when Gheorghe is around.

Gheorghe, who looks at him with tender eyes and even softer smiles, who speaks only a little more words than Johnny himself, and still understands him better than any other soul in the world. Gheorghe, who warmed his stoic heart and made deserts bloom beneath his skin. Gheorghe, who can chase away the demons and the darkness, who has held him after nightmares and through angry fits. Gheorghe, who knows how messed up he is, and still can say 'I love you', and mean it with all his heart. The man who taught him how to kiss and to let himself be kissed. The man who showed him that making love is so much better than anonymous fucks could ever be.

Johnny plays with the simple, golden wedding band on his ring finger. It's a sweet weight. It's the same he used when he asked Gheorghe to marry him. His husband had been hesitant. He didn't want a marriage of convenience because of the Brexit chaos. But for once, Johnny had laid bare his heart, had forced his feelings out of his mouth, in clumsy and unrefined words. Just like all that time ago on the Scottish farm. The unpolished speech didn't matter. It made Gheorghe smile, laugh, and cry. And most importantly, it made him say, "Yes."

Johnny hears the squelch of boots behind him. He doesn't need to turn. He'd recognise these footsteps anywhere.

Sure enough, strong arms wrap around him, and Gheorghe's beard scratches against his neck as he kisses it. "Thinking much?" he asks.

Johnny hums. "Wish we coulda go on honeymoon."

It had been on his mind since they went to the registrar's office that morning. Gheorghe surely deserves a break and something nice. They both do, but Johnny still doesn't care much about himself. As long as he can make Gheorghe happy enough to want to stay with him in this godforsaken place, then he's fine. He just doesn't want to fuck up the best thing that ever happened in his life.

"We have it, don't we?" Gheorghe asks.

Johnny furrows his brow and pushes back into his husband's chest. "What de ya mean?"

Gheorghe points to the yellow moon standing so close to the horizon. "Looks like honey, no?"

Johnny chuckles, the dark thoughts vibrating out of him with it. He still has them. They will always be a part of him, but Gheorghe can chase them away, can lift the veil here and there, can show him the sweetness of the world between the bitter herbs.

No, life isn't easy, even with this man at his side, because Johnny himself isn't easy. But he's trying, and Gheorghe sees and respects that. There are days, when they fight and others, when they are so love-sick that Deidre sends them to separate ends of the farm to get their jobs done. She always smiles softly when Johnny pouts at her as he leaves after that, and she shares a chuckle with Gheorghe.

Johnny is feeling better now. Maybe it's the pills Gheorghe convinced him to take, or the fact that he doesn't get pished all the time. Maybe it's the kissing in their bed at night or that he falls asleep with Gheorghe's heartbeat so close to his ear. Maybe it's the sum of it. Who knows?

Johnny looks up at the honey moon. Yeah. Maybe it doesn't matter that they neither have the money nor the manpower to get away for a few days, to get a break from the farm. He already has so much more than he ever thought he'd ever get.

He turns in Gheorghe's arms and smiles at him lopsidedly. It doesn't feel strange on his face anymore. Gheorghe leans in and places a soft kiss on his lips. Johnny lets him. His husband taught him tenderness, taught him to love. Johnny can't get enough of it, hopes he never will.

"Let's watch a movie, love," Gheorghe says as if it were just another night. Maybe it is. One of many more to come, cuddling on the sofa after a long day of work with his nan folding laundry and his father dozing off in the chair.

It's not much, but it's his little slice of happiness.

[kojinnie]

tis is ranon! i wanna try the twisted match-up eventho it'll probably hurts. my worst traits would be

1. Not knowing myself well enough, having to ask others how i actually am from their eyes instead of looking through my own lense because I care of other's judgement better than mine.

2. I suck at handling compliment. Everytime anybody says anything good about me, I always get defensive by saying no, change the topic of the conversation, or saying "thank you, but [insert why i don't deserve compliment]"

3. Similar to the 2nd one, I have horrible horrible self esteem. I never really look at myself in a good light, I think I am horrible. Sometimes I feel like "im the worst" yet some of the times I feel like "woah I'm a queen". Even worse, sometimes I don't have the motivation to better myself in order to raise my self esteem.

My favourite(s) would be reiner and jean, you can choose the one with the worst(or whoever you prefer) compatibility with my traits. tears up already as I slip 1 dollar to your hand, whispering happy ending please..

Pairing: Jean x Reader

Summary: You accidentally meet Jean, your high school sweetheart, thirteen years later. While he has turned into a successful man whose face you'd see on TV a lot, you think of your life and what could have been with him, if only...

Tags: Angst/Fluff, coming of age, slice of life

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Oh Ranon my sweet child, hereby I present to thee... hopefully an antidote to the despair Yams had given us with 138. Hope you like it love!

Song mentioned: Linger by The Cranberries

"It's nice to see a familiar face 'round here."

There was no word that could describe the feelings you had upon hearing that voice. A voice that was once the first sound you hear in the morning and the one you say goodbye to before falling asleep. A voice that you had not heard for what felt like forever.

You didn't have to turn around to tell who it was, "Jean?"

The two of you erupted in laughter, both surprised by the mere coincidence of meeting each other at this old and ran-down department store, on the outskirt of the town you both grew up in.

Jean was quick to pull you into a big embrace that you gladly came into. A familiar piece of warmth was his hug, and yet it had struck you as odd that it did not feel foreign at the closest, although it had been years since the last time you met him.

Jean had grown very tall. There was no longer his signature undercut as he had let his hairs to grow past his ear. His chiseled jaw hid beneath dark brown beard he now had. You pretended to check him out and be shocked with the view, "You really grew! Like grew, GREW!" as if you hadn't seen him on the news station or the daily mail. As if you didn't follow his Instagram with your second account. As if you never thought of him at all.

He held your shoulder and pulled away to look at you, "Thirteen years and you don't look any different."

Your face grew hot and the compliment sent an uncanny discomfort to your guts, "Ah the lighting sucks here - to my advantage, fortunately."

There was a disapproving look in Jean's eyes for a passing moment before he carried on with the conversation. He didn't expect to see you at the old department store the two of you used to roam in after school, he said. Neither did you to ever meet him again, especially here. A place so awfully ordinary for someone who had grown to be the best version of himself. Jean had finally achieved his dream to be a household name in the country as one of the rising young attorneys.

The celebrity status he had achieved, all the actresses and models he had dated - it all inflicted you with some kind of inexplicable pain. One that made you feel worthless, to say the least. Someone who used to be so close to your heart, had grown so magnificently, leaving you with the painful fate of being ordinary. Yet, still your face lit up in distant pride each time a mention of Jean’s name surfaced, be it from the passing conversation your friend had, or to see it announced by the news anchor for some big public case he was working on.

Jean said that he returned home for a funeral. His uncle died, and he needed a spare sandal. He didn't know any other store, as the area both of you grew up in had changed a lot. Leaving this old department store the only place he could remember.

You passed your condolence but he was more curious with what you were up to. You chuckled because he seemed so serious when he asked, "Didn't you move out to the city? Why the hell are you coming back?" as if the misplacement of seeing someone so glitzy in this boring, dilapidated town didn't apply to him.

So you answered, and Jean turned silent for a moment. He tilted his head downward, and you noticed that he was the same person with the same mannerism. Although he was no longer the 17-year-old boy who used to get all ruffed up in school fight, trying to defend you from some stupid jocks; nor was he still the tall, lanky kid from your Home Economics class that you gave your first kiss to.

Your mind couldn’t help but to race to all the what-ifs, and the presence of Jean before your eyes right now only made the wonderings more palpable.

Jean smiled faintly to your answer, “Congratulations,” he still made his way to pat the side of your head, something he used to do every time, “big step, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s scary.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy? Anyone I know from school?” Jean said, faking the enthusiasm in his tone, but you didn’t notice. Because in your mind, it would be an absurd idea to think that you would still have the tiniest bit of effect on Jean, for he had outgrown all the memories he ever had with you.

“No, no,” you tried to mask the bitterness that suddenly emerged on the back of your tongue, “we met at work. He’s a great guy.”

Indeed, he was. The reason why you returned home was because you were getting married, and your fiancée wanted to be close with your family, for he didn’t have one growing up. He was an exceptional man, he had this magnetism in him, with the way he perceived things, to the abiding tenacity he had in him.

Your fiancée was a man you knew you could lean on in the eye of adversity. That’s why you agreed to marry him. But then again, there was always a void inside your heart that had no resolve to it for so many years. Your fiancée was your foundation, and yet, perhaps selfishly, you still yearned for the childish laughter and the irreplaceable feeling of freedom you once had with the man standing tall before you. Whose glance never failed to make you feel the most at ease with.

“He must be a pretty great guy to get you,” Jean’s faint smile grew into a grin, he was trying to down play the commotion he started to feel within his chest, “what’s his name? So, I can picture him.”

You laughed, because it was only natural for you to do so in the presence of the first guy you had fallen for, the first guy to ever told you how pretty you were and how all your imperfections never mattered to him, the first one to bring your teary face into his embrace after a gruesome day, before saying, ‘I never thought it’s possible. But, crazy, seeing you cry hurts me too.’

However, you knew, that all those memories had passed by and you were happy with where you were now. “Reiner,” you smiled at the mention of his name, “my fiancée’s name is Reiner Braun. He’s… amazing.”

“Wow. Tough name. Probably someone I’d stay clear from in high school.”

Both of you laughed, and the two of you continued to talk, as you walked him through the desolated alleys to find the sandal that he wanted to buy, and Jean walking you to the towel aisle that you had meant to buy one for Reiner, only to find out that they had stopped selling towels since long time ago. The laughter and reminiscing persisted until the cashier row when Jean heard your stomach grumble. Both of you exchanged glances and broke into yet another laughter.

“Salerno’s?” Jean said, suggesting the pizza place off the highway, where you had spent so many dates with him back then.

“How could I ever say no to that?”

“Settled, then. Did you drive here?” Jean’s eyes gazed afar to the parking lot, strangely looking for the old car you used to drive back in school, before realizing that thirteen years had passed and there was no chance that sickly car could ever survive the time.

“No, actually Reiner dropped me and—” As if staged by the universe, your phone rung and Reiner was calling, “—right in time, it’s him!”

You walked away from Jean for a moment as he looked for his car key inside jacket. Across the line, Reiner was gruntling, his voice was hazy, “Babe—”

“Reiner, I bumped into an old friend!” there was a sing-songy tone in your words. Through the phone, Reiner chuckled, picking up the excitement in your voice, even though it was getting more apparent that Reiner was drowsy, “Anyway babe, can you get an Uber? I took the cough syrup your mum gave me, and now I’m sleepy as fuck. ‘Fraid I won’t be able to drive.”

You turned to Jean and saw him jingling his car key at you, before returning back to Reiner on the phone, “Rei, I think my friend can drive me home. I’ll be stopping at Salerno’s, do you want anything? The calzone maybe?”

Reiner yawned, “That sounds nice but—” yet another yawn, “I’m gonna pass out. Come home soon, okay? Tuck me in.”

You cackled at the buff man whining before you said goodbye and followed Jean into his car.

The trip to Salerno’s was nourishing with memories. The poplar trees along the avenue had been replaced by lines of billboards – from advertisement of real estate agent to divorce attorney, they all reminded you of how much the town had changed. Yet the sense of comfort you shared with Jean as you joked about all of the absurd things you saw along the way, had not changed at all.

If for one second you forgot that you were driving in Jean’s expensive car, and that you imagined he was wearing a shabby soccer jersey instead of a tailored-fit shirt – if you closed your eyes and thought that thirteen years hadn’t gone by between the two of you, it almost felt like you rode a time machine to a time when Jean was yours and you were his. And something about the thought of it just broke your heart.

When Jean pulled over at Salerno’s and found out that it’s past the time for dine-in, the two of you decided to eat at his car instead. Jean didn’t even ask what you want and he returned with exactly what you had in mind, the classic calzone, something you always used to have. He remembered.

The two of you laughed, bantered and joked at each other. It felt almost as if no distance had ever been laid out between the two of you, like you hadn’t lived an entirely different life, like he was the same person after all. He hadn’t once made you self-conscious like you thought you would, considering the amount of success he had attained for himself. You felt bad for accusing Jean of the worst, when all it was just a projection of your own insecurity.

“So, you’re getting married on the 15th, and your annoying aunt is not invited?”

“Yeah, thank God for the pandemic somehow. Legit excuse, when all I wanted was not to have her talk shit about Reiner on my wedding day,” you munched through your calzone, talking mindlessly, “as for you, sir, you’re invited. That’s a no-brainer. Hereby I invite thee to my humble dwelling. Bring your model girlfriend, please, so I can brag to my cousins.”

His grin subsided into a weak smile and then into nothing at all, as he sipped on his coke. Suddenly awkward silence loomed within the small space of his car.

“Jean,” you shifted in your seat as the guilt grew on you, realizing the error in your judgment, “sorry I was being presumptuous.”

“No worries, it wasn’t serious. None of it ever was.”

You nodded, engulfed in your own guilt for bringing a bad topic up. The silence let the radio’s murmur to become noticeable, and an old song had just been played through the local radio, a tune that you used to listen with him on the back of your old creaking car after a make-out session filled with enraging teenage hormones.

And I’m in so deep~

You know I’m such a fool for you~

You got me wrapped around your finger I—

Do you have to let it linger?

You sighed and finally looked at Jean with his head hanging low, “Do you want to settle down someday?”

“Eventually.” Jean answered nonchalantly, “Not even sure about the whole relationship thingy.”

“Oh.” An acknowledgment you voiced, before succumbing to yet another silence.

Jean called your name softly and when you turned to face him, he was looking at you. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, you could see his honey eyes gleamed in a look that was so familiar to you—a look of disappointment, “Tell me, how could you never end up working where you’ve always wanted to be?”

You were pulled even deeper into your silence as you looked away. Suddenly a hot rash of sadness started to swallow you whole, “I—”

You tried to voice out a tangible reason, but you had realized that all of it was your own doing. Your insecurity, your self-consciousness, the thought that you were never good enough for the thing you once wanted so bad; all of it led to a life unlived, and to have someone finally putting you in your place was embarrassing, if not painful, “—wasn’t sure if I really wanted it and—”

“—wasn’t sure if I was good enough to pass the test.”

“So, after college, you never ended up applying there? Not even a try?”

You shook your head embarrassed, looking down at your shoes.

Jean sighed and laid his food on the dashboard, before reaching for your right hand and held it warmly into his grasp. He called your name which propelled you to look back at him, “Weren’t you the one who talked me into getting into law school? Even when I thought it was impossible? Weren’t you the one who wrote on my yearbook to-my-future-attorney when everyone was convinced that I’d end up working a mediocre office job? Or a mechanic in my Dad’s shop?”

Jean carried on, “I just… I just don’t understand. How could you have so much conviction for other people but—but yourself?”

You passed a grim smile, as vulnerability started to catch up with you, “Nevermind Jean, it’s passed. I am where I am now.”

“But, wasn’t it your dream?” Jean grew antsy on his seat, it was obvious that he truly didn’t understand, “The pages and pages and pages of diary you wrote about wanting to work there? What happened?”

You sighed, running out of words to say, until you caved in, “Maybe I never knew what I truly wanted.”

“Is that why?” Jean shot another look at you, there was an intensity in his eyes that you had never seen before. There you wondered what had happened to Jean’s life in all those years passed at your absence, had he led a difficult life before getting the success he was enjoying now? “Is that why you left me—because you didn’t know what you truly want?”

Jean understood the consequence of his action, he was a well-accomplished attorney after all. He also understood the vivid pain painted all over your face, but he was taking his shot. Years of wondering where had you gone, what kind of live had you lived – you never ceased to haunt him, all the what-ifs with you he always thought about whenever he broke off yet another meaningless relationship with yet another woman he’d never cared for in his life. Over the years, he’d taken a close look at you. He’d find you on the internet, he’d asked about you to friends of a friend that was still in touch with you, he’d ‘accidentally’ found your legal documents just to see that you had gotten your college degree one year earlier than him. He didn’t know why the thought of you lingered, you just did. Arriving into his dreams where he was seventeen again and unassuming, only for him to wake up disappointed at seeing a woman that wasn’t you in his bed.

For the longest time, Jean had fended for himself to be where he’s now. When survival had finally bore fruits, what else could there be for him? Still, he felt lonely in the embrace of another woman, still he felt the void persisted even if he spent his money on things he didn’t need. Jean never thought, that after years of dreaming to be the person he’s now, all he yearned for was to have a piece of simple, ordinary and innocent happiness he once had with you.

You were, after all, the only thing that could remind him of the innocence Jean had lost after years of grueling work as an attorney—seeing how corrupt and insidious men can be. So, when his wearied eyes landed on the sight of you this evening, in the alley of that long-forgotten Department Store, Jean had no choice but to finally face his haunting.

“Jean, it’s a long time ago,” you smile, cupping his hand with your free hand, “besides, I’m no longer your type, right?” A grin, a playful grin, painfully fabricated and Jean saw right through it.

You could feel the air had gotten thick in his car, and you shifted closer to the door. Jean let go of your hand as he moved closer to you, running his long fingers through your hair. His voice had gotten deep and you could sense a hint of pain in his words, “Maybe I never had a type.”

He dragged his gaze all over your face; your eyes, your nose, your lips – the way he used to reassure that you were so beautiful in his eyes despite the self-hate you inflicted upon yourself, “Maybe all I ever wanted was you and all I ever did with those girls was to try finding you in them,” he forced a smile, so stale, so painful, “to no avail.”

You could feel the air into your lung was compromised as you battled the tears, “Jean…”

“Out of so many things that I have been brave for, I was never brave enough for one thing that I needed the most: to tell you that it’s always been you,” Jean slithered his hands through your waist and pulled you into his embrace. He laid his head, heavy with loneliness and exhaustion on to the nook of your shoulder. For lack of better term, Jean was finally back home, as he muttered, letting go of all his inhibitions, “Baby, it’s always been you. It’s always been you.”

Your whole body was weak with emotions. The thoughts, the persistent ones – the what-ifs you could have had with Jean, the life you could have lived and the dream that could have been fulfilled. Without your permission, the tears fell to your dismay as you thought of one last thing remaining in your heart: Reiner. The way he smiled and listened all through your nightly despairs, caressing you close until you fell asleep, exhausted with tears dried up all over your face. The way Reiner whispered on to your ear, amidst your drowsiness, that he loved you and that he promised to make you whole, to fill the void you had always feared for. All the little things he had done without you asking, or the way he loved your family as if they were his own.

You cursed yourself for being surprised at how much you realized that you truly loved Reiner, even when you were in the embrace of someone you wondered about often. You realized, the best way to prove to someone that you love them was to stick around. And Reiner had stuck around, as much as you stuck around for him.

You left Jean long time ago for reasons you only vaguely remembered now, but life went on and sooner or later you should make it in your heart to accept it. You smiled and thought of your life. Sure, there was a lot of thing you need to patch up, but what is life if not persevering?

You pulled away from Jean, surprised to see a beaten look on his face. Far away from the dandy and sharp young attorney you would see on the news. Once, you loved this man, but years had passed and the one he wanted was no longer there. You were no longer the person you were thirteen years ago. You were no longer the girl Jean longed for, all he wished for was a passing ghost that you have left behind in your adolescence.

You caressed his cheek for the last time and landed a kiss to his forehead, “Jean, I’m so proud of you. How far you have gone. I’m sorry I wouldn’t be the one you’d share your future achievement with, but for all the things you have done to me, for seeing the good in me when I could hardly see it… I want to say thank you,” you smiled although pain was searing within your chest, “there’s a world out there where this would work out. But not this world.”

The unexpected rendezvous you had with the man whom you had given your first love to ended with both of you crying at each other’s embrace, until Salerno’s closed and turned off their lights.

When Jean finally dropped you at your childhood home, the place he used to spend all the times in, Jean smiled and pointed at your room with the lights still lit, “He’s waiting?”

“I think he’s asleep. He’s a deep sleeper, he forgets to turn off the lights every time.”

“Does he even fit in your tiny bed?”

“Well, you did fit.”

“For a time.”

“Yeah, for a time.”

“So, you’ll be Mrs. Braun?”

“Yep, Mrs. Braun I will be.”

Jean scoffed, pretending to be annoyed, but smiling nonetheless, “Lucky bastard, that Mr. Braun.”

[nothing-but-dreamy]

ON THE EDGE ~ Pt. 4

Characters: Gavin Reed x fem!Reader; Connor; Hank Anderson;

Warnings: cursing

Words: 2668

Gavin was far away from being 'happy'. But he listened interested in what yn had to say in the briefing. He was impressed how much she had found out within … one day. She had a bunch of files, several papers and she also had prepared a report for each one of them with the important details. If Gavin had a good day, he could do just the half of it. If any.

"So, our guy is Joseph 'The Joker'.", she stopped as she saw Gavin trying to suppress the laughter behind his hand, "Come on, Gavin. Laugh. Or otherwise you will explode.", she said amused.

"That is the stupidest name on earth.", Gavin said chuckling.

Yn watched her partner who was looking so much better when he was grinning, "Yes, that's why I suggest we should call the whole case 'JoJo'.", just as she had said it, Gavin laughed out loud, crying with tears.

Gavin’s amusement was contagious and yn joined him while she pinched the bridge of his nose.

Even Hank started to rumble with laughter, "Yeah, we should take this name. It won't get any better, I guess. Where can we find this guy?"

"Maybe in a circus with clowns?", Gavin suggested still grinning.

Yn chuckled but shook her head to get back on track, "Actually, he deals in Liberty park.

*

Twenty minutes later, all four were sitting in the 'Liberty Park Café' for 'observation'. For normal people, it wasn't that easy to detect a dealer. But for three cops and an android, it shouldn't be that hard. At least, they could disguise their work with some coffee and snacks. Mostly, coffee.

The group took a table near a window to have the park in sight. It was snowing again and therefore, too cold to be outside for too long. Because they had no picture of Joseph, they had to rely on their observation skills.

"Could this be our guy?", Connor asked and pointed at a guy with long hair and a beard. He stood underneath a tree with his hands buried in the pockets of his long coat.

Yn took a grape of the fruit salad and threw it into her mouth before she looked at the guy. It was the third guy Connor had found suspicious, "Well…", yn started, considering the possibility but then, a woman appeared and walked straight to the guy. She hugged and kissed him before they wandered off with linked arms.

Gavin looked annoyed at Connor with crossed arms, "Wow, tin can, you're the best Investigator ever."

“It’s not that I could detect drugs from this distance.”, Connor defended himself.

“Then, I don’t see why you’re even here.”

“Because yn asked me-”

“You asked him?”, Gavin asked exasperatedly and looked at her with a dark expression.

She raised her hands in surrender, “He’s Hank’s partner so, of course, he’s on board. I’m sure he will play a good role in this case.”, she said and once again, she noticed Gavin’s mood. He was on the edge of the next outburst.

Luckily, Hank was this time the one who spotted the next suitable candidate for their suspect and stopped Gavin to say whatever he wanted next, “I guess, this could be our guy.”

The other three of the group looked at a guy in his twenties. He wore some pair of jeans with holes, a t-shirt of an old grunge rock band and a black, well-worn, leather jacket. His long, blonde, greasy looking hair was tied to a ponytail. He leant casually against a street lamp as if he was waiting for someone and at the same time as if he would have all the time in the world.

“It could be JoJo.”, yn said with a slow nod. His appearance coincided with the few details she had found in the statements. The hair, height and surprisingly, the t-shirt were the same.

“It could be just another guy waiting for a hooker.”, Gavin grunted. In his eyes, nothing of this was worth his time.

“Hey, JoJo!”, a guy on a bicycle called out and waved as he passed the grunge guy.

All three pairs of eyes were landing on Gavin who rolled with his eyes, “Oh, please! That can’t be true.”, he said and wiped over his face with his hand.

"So, that's our guy, then.", Connor said with a pleased smile. He was a big fan of having a clear suspect.

The group observed JoJo for a while. Hank ordered new coffee and as their cups were refilled, several people had passed JoJo. Some were just greeting him. Some had talked with him, maybe buying drugs, “Couldn’t we just arrest him?”, Connor asked.

“We could but if yn’s theory is right, he could lead us to his boss.”, Hank explained.

"He has a type.", yn said suddenly.

"A type? A type of what?", Connor asked confused. Somehow, he had the feeling that whenever he was learning one new thing there were two other things coming his way, like these human comments.

Yn looked at Connor with a grin, "A type of woman. He ignores the blondes. But he looks after the brunette."

"No!", Gavin called out and looked serious at yn. His brows were knitted together and yn saw his eyes sparkling darkly. There he was again: her all too protective partner… or at least, he tried to be that.

Her smirk grew bigger, "It's a good idea, I think."

Gavin gritted his teeth, "And I say, no!"

"What is going on?", Connor asked Hank low while he watched the exchange between yn and Gavin.

"I'm not really sure…", Hank answered.

Before Hank could speak out his assumption, Gavin was faster to explain, "She wants to meet him.", he said coldly.

"What?", Connor asked surprised and looked at yn.

"It's the best chance we have. I'll go over to him, flirt a bit and bug him. Then, we will get him and his boss. We will have a chance to get the whole circus. It won't take me more than ten minutes.", yn said smirking, leant back in her seat with crossed arms and watched Gavin almost exploding in front of her eyes.

"And my answer is no!", he called out, which caused the other guests to look at the small group.

Yn looked challenging at Gavin, "Good that I haven't asked you for permission."

"Then, I will go with you.", Gavin demanded, thinking of himself as smart.

Yn’s eyes grew big. She looked at her partner with a confused expression, "Are you nuts? How shall I flirt with him when you're around?", she said and gestured to him and his appearance.

Gavin saw something in her eyes, in the way she was looking at him. Not sure if he was right, if she was giving him a compliment in some way or not. Was it possible that she could see him in a certain way?

"I can go with her.", Connor offered and broke Gavin’s train of thought and the connection he had with yn.

"You?", Gavin asked spitefully and sizesing up the android.

"Yes... I could act as her servant android. Even now, there are still androids out there who are serving humans. It would be no big deal.", Connor explained.

Yn was already hooked, "Best idea!I told you he will play a role in this case. So, we have a plan. Tomorrow, we will bug this fucker."

*

“Gavin, no!”, yn called out. Again and again, Gavin wished he had listened to her instead of being hard headed to stop the crazy guy on his own. Once again, Gavin suffered through the events of the last case in his dream. And once again, he heard the shots from the guy. Then, he shot the guy on his own just to find yn lying on the ground bleeding. Gavin ran over to her, turned her around and tried to wake her up but she was already unconscious. He knelt next to her, pressing his hand on her bleeding wounds to stop the blood until the ambulance was coming. He even drove to the hospital to stay by her side.

Two long hours, he was waiting til the doctor came to him, telling Gavin that she was alright and would be okay. Gavin even waited til he could visit her in the room a few hours later. Slowly, and with shaking knees, Gavin went to her room, opened the door and slipped carefully in.

Gavin’s blood was running cold because of the scene in front of him. Next to yn’s bed sat Connor, holding her hand in his with intertwined fingers. Yn was already awake, looking at the android with a love filled glance. Connor looked from yn at Gavin and back at yn, “Look who’s there. Gavin came to see you.”, Connor said softly.

“Gavin? Who’s Gavin?”, she said without even looking up…

It was three o’clock in the morning and Gavin started up from the dream, from the nightmare, with a racing heart. Once again, he was soaked with sweat. He raked his fingers through his wet hair and without a second thought, he stood up to go into his bathroom. He splashed cold water into his face several times. As he looked up into the mirror, he saw a pale guy with dark shadows under his eyes. Gavin grabbed a bottle of shampoo and threw it violently into the shower, “This god damn, fucking android!”, he yelled out. Within a few days, Connor had been able to get closer to yn. Gavin feared this android would be even able to win her over. Maybe Gavin should gather all his courage to speak with her as long as there was time or otherwise, the android could snatch her from under his nose. But how should he do that without risking their friendship?

*

Yn rummaged through her bag with clothes. She already wore some leather boots, a tight fitting and low cut, black jeans and searched for the blood red tank top. She had made her hair and she even had put makeup on with too much mascara and eyeliner for the most dramatic look. Yn found the tank top and donned it over her head. As she pulled it down, a movement in the mirror caught her attention, "Voyeurism, huh? That's a crime.", she said, smirking.

Gavin closed slowly up to her with his hands stuffed into his front pockets of his jacket, "I know. We worked on some of these cases. Listen-", he said softly, collecting all his courage and searching for the right words.

"I know what you want to say and yes, I will be careful. Connor is by my side. You and Hank on the other side of the street by the café. Nothing will happen. This is easy. You don't have to worry this much.", yn said reassuringly while she donned her leather jacket over the top. The outfit would be a bit too cold for the weather but she wanted to flirt with the suspect and so, she had to show off some skin. She even pulled down the top some more so that her décolleté got more visible.

Gavin’s eyes fell on that view which caused his mind to go blank for a moment. All in all, she was very distracting, dressed up like this and he had difficulties to focus back on what he actually wanted, "Uhm… I… It's just... There's something I have to tell-", he tried insecurely, not sure if this was a good idea at all. If Gavin would go this way there was no going back and he knew that.

The door of the locker room opened once again and Hank took the decision away from Gavin, "Yn, Fowler wants to see you.", the Lieutenant said and left again.

"Coming!”, yn called out as a response and stowed away her bag and stuff before she turned back to Gavin, “Get ready. We will leave soon.", she said with a soft pat on his chest and a smile on her lips.

Gavin looked after her. He huffed out, annoyed about himself as the door opened once again. Yn’s head appeared in the door, "Oh, and, by the way, this shirt you wear? It looks very good. The color suits your eyes.", she said, winked at him and left again. Gavin smiled softly and felt his cheeks getting warmer. He was sure that she had no idea what she was doing to him but he enjoyed these small moments. They were all he got.

*

Then, it was showtime. Hank and Gavin stood across the walkway at a bar table with two cups of coffee to go as a disguise to be able to watch the scene. JoJo was already there, leaning at the same street lamp like the day before. Now and then, he greeted someone. Then, Gavin watched yn coming down the way, still in some distance. She said something to Connor that let the android chuckle. Connor looked down at yn with a huge smile and as she looked up at him, her smile was matching the android’s one. Pain shot through Gavin as he got reminded of his dream from the night before. It was a horrible nightmare with an end that never happened like this but his mind was determined to let him suffer even more. As if it wouldn’t be enough to get reminded of yn being shot all the time. No, now the android had to be in his dreams, as well.

“It’s good that Connor kept his LED ring.”

“W-what?”, Gavin asked. Hank had pulled him out of his thoughts and this time, Gavin was thankful for the old man to be there, even if he would never admit that loudly.

Hank nodded into the direction of Connor and yn, they almost had reached JoJo, “I mean without the LED ring, Connor would look more like her handsome boyfriend than her servant.”, Hank said amused.

Gavin observed the two and wasn’t happy what he saw. Connor was dressed completely in black and with his height he looked like a bodyguard. The way they interacted told that they seemed to be very close to each other. Gavin was looking forward to the end of this bullshit, his nerves were already blank but the case just had started. It would last a bit longer til everything would fall back to normal again without Connor and Hank being around them all the time.

Then, yn passed JoJo and as she had expected, the dealer was looking after her. Much to her delight, he even whistled after her as she swayed her hips a bit more provokingly. Yn stopped and turned around. JoJo was confident, very confident, he smirked at her and wasn’t impressed by Connor as he stepped a bit forward. Yn gave him a sign to stay where he was before she walked over to JoJo with a flirty smirk on her lips.

The longer she was talking to the dealer, the more Gavin became nervous. It got on his nerves to see JoJo coming closer to yn step by step. She was laughing about whatever he said. She leant forward to be closer to him whenever she could. And Connor just stood there, observing the scene, looking out for her - as planned.

Hank noticed that Gavin was annoyed by the scene. Since yn had began to talk with JoJo, Gavin had started to torture his empty cardboard cup. He was drumming on the lid and scratching on the material the longer the whole scene lasted.

As JoJo touched yn on her hip while he leant forward to whisper something into her ear, Gavin squashed the cardboard cup completely with his knuckles turning white.

"You know, Reed, that's the reason why you couldn't do Connor's job.", Hank said and pointed at Gavin's hand.

"Shut the fuck up.", Gavin muttered angrily and just relaxed as yn and Connor left the scene finally.

[shortyisweird9]

'Lonely ghost serie'

Chek and heartache- part III

Tw⚠️:swearing, referring of dark themes such as suicide attempt and mental illness.

The morning rays hit your eyes gently, tangible by their warmth,as you forced yourself from another dream of nothing but blank.

You groaned as your cat,Didi, comes running towards you: purring, meowing and chirping in pure happiness. You knew the reason she does this; your previous cat, Martha or Dildo- your roommate Sergiu called her that because of her dickish attitude with him- used to do this everytime so the little one, Didi, just followed her mother's lead.

Everytime she does that is like a small needle stabs at your heart especially when just 2 weeks passed since Martha died of old age- the black cat was adopted when she was senior, abused and malnourished, your heart knew you couldn't leave her to be laid to rest like a nothing. You adopted her, she bit you and you petted her, she hissed you hugged her, you did everything you could think of to show love even brush her fur with a wet toothbrush end to mimic sweet kisses coming from her mom. The cat soon realized that and started living again. Cautious of your other 3 roommates, cuddly with you.

Anyway, you got sidetracked with reminiscing. You heard your friends in the kitchen, Sabrina throwing away the take out boxes and Sergiu preparing some tea, probably to calm his stomach after all the spicy curry he ate last night.

You fixed the oversized white t-shirt and pull the marine blue shorts out of your bottoms, Didi already waiting you by the door.

You all, Sabrina,Sergiu,Ace and you, live in a quaint apartment, turned from campus housing, right next to one of the malls of the city. It had two small bathrooms, a living room , three petite bedrooms ,a tiny kitchen, a rounded balcony and a hallway. It was much smaller than your family home but it was in a central zone where your family home was outside the city's boundaries. You chose it not only because you wanted to spare your family from driving you to university but also because you needed your freedom, your space. Your parents were very understanding of that.

-Y/n e trează? ( "Is Y/n awake?") Ace asked as he sipped on his black cofee.

Without, he would pretty much be a grumpy hedgehog with spiky tealish mohawk. And who wouldn't love that?

-Nu încă, ah! Uite-o! ("Not yet,ah! There she is") Sabrina exclaimed, getting up to hug you and leaving the smoking tea cup by the window.

"Hello." You said ,voice grungy and eyes shut from the light.

You felt the warm hands of your Arabic friend on your face filled with moles and couple of marks from recently popped pimples, you let yourself be engrossed into it ,the touch starvation you carry like a cross chosing for you.

You hear her laugh, she always had a pretty laugh and a prettier smile . She was the beauty of the group, with big puffy sand yellow curls, brown skin with red undertones and black eyes who glow in pure happiness. She was stunning and a sweetheart with an obsession on the colour red and butterflies.

"Someone is needy." Ace teased.

"Shut up or I will staple those hair triangles on your scalp. "

You wanted to say something better but Sabrina then started massaging your lower face in a circular manner with her thumb. You knew you couldn't do anything anymore except melt.

-Anyway ,unde e Sergiu? ("Anyway, where is Sergiu?")

-Ți-o făcut ceai, cane e pervaz. S-o dus până sus să o ajute pe Florentina.("He made you tea, the cup is on the windowsill. He went upstairs to help Florentina.") He said, taking another sip of his cup.

-Ooooh, Florentina. You two began as Ace shook his head in amusement.

You and Sabrina were known to be ruthless in your teasing of the guitarist with long brown locks and beard.

Florentina was a crush of his, a freshman in the University of Arts who played the violin beautifully. Small,with olive skin, long red hair keept in a 1960s hairstyle and green petite with a triangular shaped face. She was a sweetie with a love for fantasy book ,autumn and ferrets.

-Oh, yeah?

-Dup, iubitul ei se mută cu ea. ("Yup, her boyfriend moves in with her")

-Oh.

Ace sucked in his lip ,his face filled with disappointment just like theirs now.

-That sucks.

-Numai spune,Sabrina.("You don't say,Sabrina")

Just then, the door clicked shut. Sergiu is back, this will be awkward.

-Ce vă uitați așa la mine?("Why are you looking at me like that?")

Neither of them could properly looked into the warm brown eyes of the man whose glow seemed to fade a bit, Sergiu was a stubborn man who shut his feelings deep inside, only through his song you could tell he was suffering. Just like you, I suppose.

-Am auzit...("We heard...")

You bit your lips as your long fingers played with each other, twisting and tugging while your nerves grew. Last thing you wanted was another fight where you all force the man to open up. He had suicidal tendencies, sometimes he came too close to actually do it but you were there and you needed to be there now too, even if he doesn't like being taking care of.

Sergiu rolled his eyes at you, his heart hurt from how rigid your posture was, eyes were worried about him but also scared, teeth grinding themselves not out of anger but out of care and fear.

He knew you hated arguments and shouts with dying passion. You always cried when someone raised their voice in less than friendly manner, you hated this reaction of complete terror, you hated looking weak but now you hated letting your friend burn himself because of an unfortunate love triangle. So you swallowed your nerves and braved on, it's about him ,not you.

Sergiu wanted to protect you all from this negativity, especially you and Ace. You had a big event to organise , Ace's sex reassignment surgery is coming up soon. You both have your own problems to dwell ,you didn't need to have him as one too.

However somewhere in his head, a voice telling him that he was wrong ,that voice that took the shape of you in the night of July.

You were crying, your grey hoodie wet from the rain as you cling desperately to him, not daring to move.

He was the reason why you crying, why you yelled profanities our of worry for what he was about to do. He...He tried to throw himself off a bridge ,the same bridge you two first shared your kiss.

That dark episode still irked your minds in the darker moments, late in the night nothing but your mind to keep you company and that's torture in itself.

You thought you could help him, change whatever hurts him and make it go away. That was your biggest mistake, you can't change a person that's not your duty , your duty was to support them through tough times and help them see the light at the end of the dark tunnel. A duty you solemnly swore to uphold even if he didn't liked you to. There's no fucking way you let him do that again,not if you can be there for him. Like he was always there for you, your big guardian with a guitar that spews flames in shape of songs.

-Y/n..

-Te rog, Sergiu. Nu ascunde. ("Please, Sergiu. Don't hide.")

Your eyes were desperate for him to talk it out in any shape or form. They implore for him to vent, to not hid between fake lies like " I am okay" or "I'm fine."

-Bine,bine. Tu ești șefa. ("Fine,fine. You're the boss.")

————————————————————

They talked and talked and cried and laughed and cried again. A never ending circle of venting ,small earthquakes which instead of fracturing the friendship , it onlyakes it stronger as it should.

-Te simți mai bine?("You feeling better?") Your voice ran timidly on the top of your apartment building, watching over the brutalist styled architecture.

-Un pic, doare știi dar asta îmi arată cât de îndrăgostit sunt de ea. Iubirea adevărată pentru mine nu se referă doar la a iubi doar dacă te iubește reciproc, nu , să iubești fără să forțezi persoană să te iubească înapoi. Să îi porți de grijă, să o protejezi, să o ajuți fără să fi un egoist, fără să te aștepți să fi iubit înapoi. ("A little, it hurts you know but this shows how much I love her. True love for me doesn't mean to love just so they will love you back, no, to love someone without forcing them to love you back. To care for them, to protect them, to help them without being an egotistic, to love without expecting to be loved back.")

-Poetic.

He laughed at that , starring at the setting sun ,his lit cigar forgotten fumed between his painted fingers. His hair blown gently by the wind , he looked like a masterpiece.

-Scuze..pentru tot.("Sorry...for everything. ")

-N-ai de ce. Mi-ai făcut chec până la urmă așa că balanța eternă este restabilită.("You don't have a reason to be. You made me chek in the end and thus the eternal balance is restored.") You joked, munching quietly on the piece of cake, his jacket keeping you warm.

-Haha. Cine ar fi crezut că checul are fi o gustare bună când îți dai vent.("Haha. Who would have thought that chek will be a good snack when you vent.")

Indeed, who would have thought of that but one who cried in the sore days filled with heart ache.

————————————————————

Hey,guys!💖

Hope you like the third part of the serie, I wanted to focus on "your life" and your friends backgrounds this time. The translations are not 100% word to word but enought to give you context.

Anyway, I hope you like it. Stay safe!

Tagged 💗💗:@moolujk @gaysludge @simonsbluee @yoyoanaria @cherry-piee @magenta-skyline @yikesyikesyikes95

[delisianna]

T 

 

I could tell you everything about her, who she was, how we met the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose. I can see her right in front of me. She's more real than you are

 

Beyond the Wall

"He won't last the night." She told the red bearded man she once considered a friend.

Yet the man would not turn and face her, his only concern was for the dying man laying on the cot in the corner of the room, whose forsaken voice kept saying the same three words over and over in his fevered dream, locked inside the tiny cabin that still remained freezing cold, even with the burning fire roaring next to her.

It was as if death was there, standing and waiting to take him from this life.

She wanted to leave, but worried for Tormund, especially after he demanded king Crow healed himself and let the dragon queen go, let her rest.

 

But how can a man let go of the very woman who haunted his dreams long before he became sick with fever?

Anyone who knew the Crow before he went south and came back North could see something was ghostly wrong with him. From the dark circles around his eyes, the need to be away from everyone else, isolating himself, only allowing Tormund to come close.

 

Then when word came of what happened south from the Freefolk who choose to remain at Castle Black, that's when the whispers started, and people who were once friendly to the Crow shun him away, calling him cursed... A kin slayer cursed by the gods.

 

It wasn't like she didn't agree with her people, even she could see the Crow was truly cursed by the gods for kinslaying.

Yet whenever she wanted to say the words to  Tormund, he didn't want to hear any of it; or believe it.

He still considered his little Crow a true warrior; sent by the old gods, along with the dragon queen to save them from the dead. He'd already cut down a few men with his axe ever since the Crow fell sick.

Men who wanted to offer the Crow's body to the old gods, believing the fever that was running rampant in their small settlement came from the gods cursing him.

 

"Kinslayer"

"Oathbreaker"

"Queenslayer"

 

King Crow repeated just then, like a song, as if the ghost of the dragon queen was there, tormenting him. Never leaving his side even in death. Causing her body to shiver.

 

Tormund shook his head not wanting to believe anything Val was saying to him, as he rose out the chair to face her, letting go of his friend’s hand. Everyone south of the wall might of given up on his Crow, and not want him near them. But he would never be like those fuckers, forgetting how one man died to get them across the wall, freeing them from becoming slaves of the Night King.

"You have to heal him, he can't die Val, our people thinks him a god, a man who came back from the dead and rode a fucking dragon, killing those undead fuckers....He needs to live or the clans will break into an all out war for leadership."

 

Val hissed at him, tightening her cloak, feeling another chill crawl up her back, needing to leave least she became cursed also.

"You're the only one who still thinks this way Tormund, no one wants him here but you."

There she said it for him to hear, instead of saying it behind his back like she normally did.

 

Val watched as the man grew angry with her, his nostrils flared, like a savaged beast ready to ponce and rip her head off her body. Yet she stood there; unwilling to flinch under his heated gaze.

 

"So you're just going to let the Crow die instead of helping him? Be a cunt like everyone else after he saved all of us?" Tormund yelled, slamming his fist into the table, Ghost perking his only good ear up from the bed he laid in with his master, never leaving the Crow's side, not even to go hunt.

 

"If it wasn't for him, none of us would be here. He died the first time to save us, now you want to turn your back on him like those southern fuckers?!”

 

"You're an idiot..." Val yelled, pushing him from against her; cursing under her breath.

"I can't heal a man who has no wish to live Tormund, king Crow is a broken man who wants to die, let him go, let him die." 

 

Val knew her words stung him deep, causing him to recoil from her, but knew Tormund needed to start thinking straight and let his friend rest.

Let the broken man go be with the dragon queen in the afterlife, even he claimed there was nothing after death only darkness, which she knew king Crow now welcomed.

 

"You need to be the one to lead us now Tormund, I suggest you say your goodbyes before the fever takes him."

 

Tormund watched Val leave, his feet moving back towards the man he once called his enemy, before he called the man his friend then king.

Grabbing ahold of him, bringing his body forward to face him, Tormund examined his friend, wanting to slap him out of his fevered dream, yet the Crow kept mumbling the same three words, his dark grey eyes floating to the back of his head.

The man his dead, his friend was dying.

Shaking his head, Tormund could see there was no life in his eyes, king Crow was already a dead man.

Even before the sickness took him, he was a dead man walking.

Gone was the cocky bastard, and all that remained was a shell of a man.

Who would never speak to him about what happened in the south, even when he asked why he had to kill the Dragon queen? king Crow could never give him a straight answer.

 

The man was truly lost, putting himself in danger at all times welcoming death. Yet no matter what he did on hunting trips they both went on, where he'd show himself in front of fucking bears or wolves welcoming death, she never took him.

Then there were times he'd fight to the death with men who would spit on him, calling him kinslayer, before they died their blood spilled in wet white snow.

 

Shaking those memories away, Tormund knew he needed to let the honorable fool go.

"Much as I want you to live, I can see you don't want to, you've lost the will." Tormund let go of his little Crow, his head falling back on the chair rubbing his temples.

 

"You killed men who challenged you, yet here you lay dying to a fucking fever  instead of fighting it like the warrior you truly are."

Grasping his cold hands in his, Tormund squeezed it tight, yet his friend's hand remained limped in his.

 

"I know you said there's nothing after death only darkness, but I need you fight through that darkness and find your dragon queen, go fucking beg her forgiveness for killing her."

*~*

Looking around at all those gathered, Tormund didn't know what to make out of his people, many of them there had cursed the Crow, kept their children from him.

Yet here they all were, either to see if the man was truly gone, or if he'd rise from the dead once more.

Yet he didn't care what reason they were there for, he was just glad they came, so he wouldn't be the only one honoring his life.

 

"He wasn't one of us." Tormund said, pointing to the body of king Crow, he'd dress the man in all black, since that was always his favorite color. His Valyrian steel sword, clutched between his dead hands, he would bury the sword with his friend's belongings and ashes, between here and Castle Black.

 

"But we welcomed him unlike those southern fuckers who cast him aside, once they were done taking everything from him."

 

He stopped himself to allow the jeers to stop, so he could continue honoring his friend. 

The man who gave everything for his people, never asking for a thank you in return.

Only doing it from the goodness of his heart.

"They broke him, and called his dragon queen mad after they were done using her for her army and dragons, while they hid themselves away inside their crypt.”

 

Tormund began beating on his chest, yelling the last part. “The Freefolk welcomed the dragon queen, fought alongside her king Crow and her armies."

"Aye, Aye, Aye!" His people jeered at him, many there had fought that night, lost friends and family.

Raising his hand to quiet his people down once more as he continued. "Even after the battle for the long night was over, those southern cunts went back to calling us wildings and the dragon queen's army savages." 

 

"They treated us like we didn't matter after we fought side by side with them to save their precious castle." Val spat, she wasn’t planning on coming, but knew it was the right thing to do.

 

"Aye!" Tormund replied, glad to know Val came to help him celebrate king Crow's life.

 

Breathing the cold air in and out of his lungs, flame torch in hand, as a single tear slipped away, he stayed with his Crow until the very end.

 

He even knew when king Crow was dead, just from Ghost's whimpers, a beast king Crow considered his only family, a beast who helped him when he felt alone in the world.

 

Bringing himself back to the present, Tormund cleared his throat, the Freefolk burnt their dead, and from what he heard from king Crow, Targaryen's also burnt their dead. 

 

Taking one last look at the last king he was sure the Freefolk would ever have in his lifetime and probably for many lifetimes after.

Tormund walked along the sides of the pyre, lighting each side, before throwing the torch at the man's dead body.

"Go find her king Crow, go find and be with your queen you two deserved better."

[iraniq]

Imagine... The Sagittarius effect

You just woke up! It was 8:40 on your birthday. The exact time you were born. You got up. There was a flight to Italy for you to take! To surprise your sweet bff for his birthday tomorrow!

You met like 3 years ago when you were on a trip to Italy. You were in desperate need of food, you hardly spoke Italian, and the boy in the shop barely knew the existance of English. Not to mention your mother tongue. You were starving struggling to explain you needed food. And then, from the nothing he appeared. He asked if you were needing help, his English was a lot "broken" but you manage to explain you were there for food. He handled the situation even paid for your food. As a thank you he insisted on your company for his walk. You spend like 5 hours walking and talking. Using Google Translate to manage to communicate quite often, but it was fun. In the afternoon, when people came out on the streets and weird glances were given your way, you excuse yourself for your poor look, but he explained he was the reason for the attention. He happened to be famous. A designer. Fashion worker, so to say, to be precise, part of the Gucci guild. Yeah... Same "Gucci" famous shit you couldn't stand. Because you are Sagittarius, and this means nothing to people who doesn't know any; but for those who do.... It ment painfull honestly. You throw your opinion at him. Not quite knowing what will come out of your mouth. But at the end he was thrilled and flattered by your honesty. The next day he took you to all the cool places, having the privilege to be let in, in not to mainstream places, because you were with him.

After this your friendship grew more elaborate. You used to call each other, write at least once a day. You become each other's beamsties!

That was the reason you wanted to surprise him, arranging everything with his assistants. You landed at 3 in the afternoon, and the preparations started. Lately he was beyond busy. He only asked for "when and where" upon his meetings. And his alone time in the car while traveling to the needed place was his only free time.

He was supposed to stop at a fresh bar, to grab a juice. As it was still your birthday, he stopped by to grab a drink - beet root fresh juice. He hated that shit, but it reminded him of you, so it was his way of celebrating. He just paid for his drink, and tastes it. On the reflection in the glass you could see his disgusted face, he really hated this. He was about to turn around when you poked him. He jumped and when he saw you he started screaming, so did you. As your people, Italians, Spainis and Frenchmen were famous with the warmest greetings, you just hugged each other and started jumping like retards. You exchanged "Italian greeting" kisses. He informed you he was already late for dinner meeting, but after this he was all yours. You laughed saying you are his dinner meeting, thanks to his assistants. He was so happy, you could swear there were tears in his eyes.

You got in the car and the driver was pointlessly driving in the city. Rome was amazing at this time if the year. You congratulate him on the "no animal furr" initiative. You were so proud. He kissed your hand and said his bffs inspired him to do so.

You had a lovely dinner and took a last walk before going home. He had to share his excitement with the world, without letting them know the reason, so he just did the most harmless thing.

You arrangend a meeting for tomorrow afternoon, as he was busy even on his own birthday.

You woke up, his place was beyond amazing, although he rarely used it, mostly sleeping in his office. Typical workaholic! The place was a wreck! Both too much and too perfect. The living room was beyond creepy!

All these paintings and picture staring at you. The other room was as full of art as the rest.

You remember the red cushion. He called you for advice in how to make it. It was your favourite piece of the place. Although you had enough time to look it all.

The outside was amazing too. A huge garden for you to wander. You heard some noices.

Oh... Big, fat and mostly fluffy parrots. This was the garden where they took the pictures for "In Bloom". Amazing, was the only word running through your mind. It was all beyond art with him. That was the reason you don't stay with him more than a day or 2. You were too... Simple for his magical world.

There was a huge Gucci bag in the kitchen... It must be for you, since there in no one else there.

As you opened it, there was the most amazing scarf inside. Scarfs were your thing indeed. And Ale knew it. You squealed like little bitch and hugged it. It was made of so gentle material.

You ate, took pictures in the house, the garden, library... His library is a motherfucking piece of art!

You went out, meeting him in his office, you talked, laughed. You gave him his present - silver bracelet with "Sagittarius" constellation.

As it was time for dinner you get down to take a selfie with the "In Bloom" poster.

When outside waiting for the car, you saw him, but he wasn't alone. There was a man with him. Tall and skinny, with a huge beard and icy blue eyes. He smiled when he saw me, and winked at Alessandro.

- So...? - the stranger said.

- Jared, I want to introduce you to my best friend, Angel! - he pointed at you proudly.

- Hi! - I awkwardly waved. He came and hugged me. Who the hell was this. He was talking something with my bff, calling him "his" bff.

- Listen here, boy! - I yelled - Ale is my bff, so better be careful! - I waved my finger at him. He looked at me and simply smiled. As so Ale.

- What? - I asked.

- I knew, Lallo since... A long time ago, actually. I was here this afternoon when you were gossiping in his office, and I am totally blown away by you! - he blinked.

Me and Ale just laughed. He looked hypnotized by my looks, which wasn't something much, but...

We had a dinner reservation in Ale's favourite restaurant. His bff offered me his hand to hold while getting in the car. He spend all night talking to me, asking stuff. I was... Dealing with art. Not that I can call writing stories "art" but still, Ale was amazed. I even red them some of the new ones. The were indeed impressed. We talked Ales's art. It turned out Jared is a musician, we talked music too. At 12:15 we left the restaurant. This Jared person was all brainwashed by me, which I took as a joke at first, but I wasn't that sure right now.

As we got at the car, he sit across if you and kept staring.

- What the fuck in wrong with him?

- He is in love with you, as he was with me as we first met! It's the Sagittarius effect! - Alessandro winked and laughed.

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@diyunho @rhina988 @nikkitasevoli @auntiemama1 @sookieblack12 @spillinginkwithlove @jayded-reality @cadeathens @fanalityfiction @lady-grinning-soul-k @lylabell2013 @larissaivanov @lostnorthofheaven @leto-madness @elliegrace139 @heavenlygaga

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Can you do "ZAMBONI" for the letter asks? (And the prompt for Z could be like "first kiss" or something if you don't want to find one)(also sorry zamboni is long but I couldn't think of another word besides that one x))

Thank you so much for the asks! This got a really long, so I had to put it under a read more link! Anyway, thanks again! These were super fun to answer, like always~! 

((Also oh my god ZAMBONI was so fun to write god bless))

From this post!

A- Ships that you currently like a lot

ZevWarden and Morriana, totally. Of course ZevWarden, because like, of course I love Zevran and my Warden! And Morriana because of their in-game dynamic and THE DRESS IN INQUISITION GIVES ME MY QUEER L I F E

B- A pairing you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind

Morrigan x Warden. By someone, I kind of mean myself, because I was planning out my games, and was like shit I need to pair someone with Morrigan and thus, Orest was born and as he developed, I got into the ship!

I- Has Tumblr made you dislike any fandom?

Fucking VOLTRON, DUDE. I hate how fucking extra everyone is, and, controversial opinion here, the Shaladin ships disgust me. I’m not going to harass anyone over it, but I really don’t like them. But the other shippers are just as bad trying to pull out these “"receipts”“ and harassing the VAs. I follow some discourse-free blogs, which is nice, but still…

M- A character you’d like to have as a friend!

Leliana! Both of us have stuff in common, like our sexualities and our views on religion for the most part ^^ I think she’d be really nice to talk to and shop with!

N- Three things you want to see more of in your main fandom

I wish I saw more Morriana and Zevran x Human Mage! I see A LOT of Leliwarden and Zevran x Mahariel/Tabris/Surana, but not much Amell/Cousland fanart or fanfictions! Let my husband love some humans! ♡♡ (Does it count if I say I also want to see more notes on my fanfictions?)

O- Chose a song at random. What character or pairing does it remind you of?

Dear River by Kina Grannis SO reminds me of Zevran! Specifically, my Warden to Zevran, because of the lyrics. I, in terms of my Warden, really feel like the song is about Zevran, coming along and just sweeping him off his feet. And the feeling, in the beginning of their time together, felt so temporary I can’t help but really get emotional when I listen to it. Here’s a link to the music video~♡

Z- Fandom Ramble! (First Kiss!!)

Hope you don’t mind me taking your little prompt of “First Kiss” and writing some tiny ficlets for my Wardens! I went a little overboard with this… but I hope you appreciate this peek into my Wardens’ love lives ^^

Redren: Prudent was never something Redren considered himself to be. Born in a whorehouse and later raised by a girl with so little shame, he never thought he’d be so flustered. With how pretty he was, how he listened, how he complimented him. Did this elf have no shame? No anxiety? No desire to keep his head on his shoulders? So when the flirting started all but the moment after his life was spared, Redren hadn’t the faintest idea how to handle it. He caved, allowing for this Antivan massage, so obviously a trap, a way for him to face his own desires without saying yes with a clear head. But it didn’t turn out like that. Zevran, for it was in his very nature itself for him to do so, joked and flirted, but all but shied away from doing anything like Redren had assumed he would. So when it was over, his back and shoulders feeling better than they had in years, he hardly noticed the kiss that was planted on his cheek before Zevran slipped away into the dark. A blink was all it took for the pale skin feel as if it were set ablaze. His cheek was on fire because of something. Embarrassment? No, no he didn’t feel embarrassed. He couldn’t pin it, it was both frustrating and fulfilling. But whatever it was, he wanted to feel it again. And again. And again.

Faelyn: Nelaros! Nelaros was his name! Oh, Nelaros, Nelaros, Nelaros! Faelyn couldn’t contain her excitement. After so many years of waiting, waiting, waiting, her husband was finally chosen! From Highever, no less! The whole idea made her giddy, so excited she wore Shianni out not even ten minutes after getting the news, bouncing around and giggling and laughing. Nelaros! Maybe this all meant that father believed her capable, that she was smart enough to be a useful wife. So long she’d believed she wasn’t, so anxious, thinking that perhaps, yes, only perhaps, she’d be stuck cleaning taverns’ tables until she died. But now with Nelaros, oh how she loved to say his name, Nelaros, my Nelaros, she could have those babies like she dreamed of, a beautiful bride to be a glowing mother, to make the others see that I’m capable! I’m smart enough! My husband, he loves me! See, see, look! I can be what you all said I wasn’t enough to be! And she was so happy when she saw him, when he didn’t care about the way she sounded when she talked, when her teeth got in the way of her tongue, when she forgot what she was saying halfway though. She promised to be a good girl, to wait until wed to kiss him, for that was the rule of the weddings. She didn’t care, as long as she got her kiss in the end, with a little iron ring around her finger, slipped on by her beloved. But when she kissed him, oh how cold his lips were. The tears flowing down her cheeks weren’t the happy ones like she’d dreamed they’d be. The ring in his pocket felt ten times its weight, lead pulling her pretty little hand to the dirt. His lips, so cold, too cold. This corpse wasn’t her husband. It couldn’t be! It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be! Her dress, once so pretty, so white, now such an ugly colour, so red, so filthy. She had given this kiss to a corpse, a dead man on the floor, stained in the same ugly colour her hands were. Shianni, as much as she tried, couldn’t tear her grip from the corpse’s shirt. She was supposed to stay with this husband of hers. Till death do us part, how unfair when it came so soon. Oh, Nelaros, Nelaros, Nelaros.

Orest: What counted as a kiss? Was it when a brother or a sister says goodnight? Was it when a mother or a father wishes you luck on a hunt? Or was it something more, a feeling rather than an action? Because whatever a kiss was, it was happening right now. Tamlen’s mouth was on Orest’s mouth, and whoever had moved first was anyone’s guess. How taboo for two men, never to be bonded, to share such an experience. What did this mean? Nothing could come from this pair, no children to carry on the Dalish blood. But it felt good. So good, like a silent mouth had no right to be. Whatever he felt was addictive, Tamlen’s skin underneath his fingertips was a rush, something so foreign yet so familiar. Tamlen hummed into his lips, sending this rush down his abdomen, igniting this fire of lust. How anyone could resist this feeling was a mystery for the ages, how anyone could live in the darkness, not knowing the feeling of someone against their skin like he once had was unanswerable. So they kept it up, with Tamlen the first to pull back. A promise was made, to do this again, because whatever it was, perhaps love, perhaps just teenage play, it felt good. This experiment certainly required more study.

Andrea: She was expected to marry a man of equal stature to her, an Arl’s son, or some other nobleman. She minded not, of course, if it was what her family desired, she would learn to desire it as well. And how bad could one man be? Her family was what mattered, and if she had to add one member, and likely more with her future children, she would adapt and carry on. But that ended. That possibility, blown out like the brief candle life was. She grieved, and she cried, and she never moved on. But he made it easier. He was foolish, and a bastard, not her equal, but the longer she watched, she grew to realize he was so much more than her. He cared, and he listened, and he let her sleep alongside him as the sky cooled and the leaves changed. He was all she was not, and she began to wonder if, perhaps, she was falling. The realization hit her like a blunt sword; the blow wan’t fatal, yet it hurt, it made her whole being reel on impact. But she let herself be swept away by this bastard King, by Alistair. So when he cupped a large, gentle hand against her chin, she tilted her head upward, letting him connect their lips. How soft his lips were, contrasting so greatly to the scratching of his stubbled chin. She felt his hands trail downward, gripping her full hips, so improper, so unbecoming of a noble, yet she allowed him to pull her closer, armor clinking against armor. Because he wasn’t a noble, he was Alistair. And in that moment, she realized it didn’t matter. Nothing in this Blighted world did, and if that was so, she was going to kiss this bastard over and over again.

Hundir: For a prince, especially one of the Dwarven kingdom, feelings were so unnecessary. They made a man weak, clouded his head with nonsense, useless sentiment that only served to pull the rug out from underneath his feet. So when he started to grow so close with him, with that trusted soldier, of what he near dared address as a friend, it frightened him. He kept it hushed, feelings so useless, so unheard of. And it wasn’t until the door was closing did he regret it. He reached out, to grab the disgraced warrior’s beard, pulling him close, planting that kiss upon his lips. It was short, hardly a second before he was pulled away and the doors to the Deep Roads shut behind him. That feeling of another man’s lips upon his own was so strange, but it felt destined, like it was meant to happen, the Stone moving his feet to do it. His hands shook as he stepped forward into the darkness of the tunnels, the handle of his battleaxe gripped in his gloved hands all that kept him from turning back, to pound on the door, to scream let me out! Let me out! Gorim, please, let me go with him! Let me live upon the surface with my warrior, please! Honor be damned, he didn’t care. But he moved forward, desperate to find these Wardens, to go with them, to find his warrior on the surface.