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zepskies · 3 months ago

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The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

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🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn.

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly.

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now.

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock…

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love-belle · 1 year ago

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warnings - language

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username waiting for aditya and her to just be fucking oblivious in the comments 🙄☝️

landonorris giggling

-> yourusername i will giggle ur ass CHUP ( shut )

-> username 😭😭😭 please free my boy he has done nothing wrong

username 4ever giggling at the fact that aditya was the first person y/n hugged after her podium and they ALMOST kissed like 😭😭

-> username my roman empire fr like i genuinely felt like i was intruding on something

username no one understands her like i do we're the same people and i will make friendship bracelets by braiding our intestines together

-> username i am sorry was that extreme

-> yourusername a bit but i like your commitment

username daniel i expect u to give us updates EVERY HOUR i need to know if these bitches are hopeful or hopeless

danielricciardo i hope you know that adi is currently contemplating what to write and giggling

-> yourusername OH !

-> adityaroykapur this is why i said no to you being in a bollywood film

-> username PLEASE OMG 😭

username i love the fact that so many drivers accompany y/n to india simply bc 1) they want to annoy her 2) they want to annoy aditya 3) they want to star in a bollywood movie so BAD

-> username they're pure of dumbasses your honour

username f1 grid in india where the FUCK is my indian gp ☝️☝️☝️☝️

username howling bc girlie would have her munda kukkad kamaal da if she just became more social

-> yourusername i do not appreciate being called out like this excuse u

username cannot wait for y/n to bully the entire grid into wearing traditionals 🤞🤞🤞

adityaroykapur i love taking pictures of you 💗

adityaroykapur wdym someone prettier than yourusername exists

adityaroykapur wdym i can't keep staring at her posts forever

-> username DUDE GET UP 😭😭😭

adityaroykapur you look leng in a lehenga

-> yourusername thank u :))

-> sidmalhotra actually there's no "leng" in "lehenga"

-> adityaroykapur 😐😐

-> username someone lock away sid PLEASE

-> username my biggest concern is who the fuck taught aditya what leng means 😭😭😭

-> username my bet's on lando ☝️☝️☝️

adityaroykapur glad you liked the jhumkas ❤️

-> yourusername wore them the entire day ❤️

-> username and i'm gone

adityaroykapur chand theri roshni ka halka sa ek saya hai ( the moon is just a slivery shadow of your light )

-> yourusername hayeeee

-> charles_leclerc DATE DATE DATE DATE DATE DATE DATE DATE DATE DATE

-> username omg

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, vickykaushal09, lewishamilton and 2,416,899 others

adityaroykapur black and white

10,729 comments

username i know who he did this for

username oh

username screaming sir why are u so

username OH MY GOD

username he posted this for y/n and y/n only y'all go home

username one chance ☝️☝️☝️

lewishamilton target audience reached 👍

-> adityaroykapur i owe you one 👍

-> username howling at this interaction

username i know that he got this idea off someone from the grid and i know exactly who he exactly got this from

-> username your case here 🎤🎤🎤 georgerussell63

-> username LMAO 😭😭

username giggling oh my god

username PLEASE I LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCH

georgerussell63 plagiarism

-> adityaroykapur you told me to post this ???

username screeching no one's doing it like him

username i love how his acc is just promos and stuff and then this thirst trap for y/n and y/n only likee

-> username my man's dedicated idgaf

username cannot wait to witness y/n have a mental breakdown in the comments over this 😭😭😭😭

sidmalhotra as y/n says "what's the square root of 64"

-> adityaroykapur 8

-> kiaraaliaadvani ATE !!!!!!!

-> username i love stupid men and their chronically offline selves

sidmalhotra this why you had to go to the beach itni subha ( early morning )

-> adityaroykapur i brought you breakfast chup ( shut )

-> username soulmates 🤞🤞🤞

usernsme live love laugh aditya roy kapur

yourusername woah

-> adityaroykapur thank you ???

yourusername you're sooooooo

-> adityaroykapur ???

-> yourusername hey bhagwan ( oh god )

yourusername be my munda kukkad kamaal da ???

-> adityaroykapur is this your way of asking me out

-> yourusername idk is it working

-> adityaroykapur absolutely, i'll see you at 7 meri jaan ❤️ ( my life )

-> maxverstappen1 what just happened

-> landonorris did they just

-> pierregasly oh my god

-> charles_leclerc it was that easy ?

-> georgerussell63 we just had to get him to post shirtless pictures. wow.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

yourusername added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

adityaroykapur added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by adityaroykapur, landonorris, kiaraaliaadvani and 2,528,915 others

yourusername he's my sataaye manaaye rulaaye hassaye all in one ( i don't know how to explain it, these are lyrics from a song "maahi ve" and basically it says that he troubles her, makes it up to her, makes her cry and makes her laugh, so like all in one )

tagged adityaroykapur

13,628 comments

username SCREECHING OH MY GOD

username im cryint i love tjem os mucj

username OHFJJSAJSJHHSS THIS IS INSANE I TELL U

username i prayed for this

username no bc i KNEW it the stories gave you AWAY y'all are not SLICK

username i saw them ask each other out that's crazy to think about actually

landonorris still mad i wasn't notified in advance

-> yourusername stay mad

-> landonorris you don't GET it i had to find out through COMMENTS

username in love with them oh my god

username they're my roman empire ur honour

username oh my god 😭😭😭😭😭😭

username the maahi ve reference imma SCREAM

username the way they're literally the it couple oh my god

sidmalhotra finally ‼️‼️‼️

-> yourusername no thanks to u

-> sidmalhotra badtameez ( disrespectful )

kiaraaliaadvani don't listen to sid, I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU I LOVE YOU BOTH I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR AGES FOR YOU BOTH TO GET TOGETHER OMGGGGG

-> yourusername KI I LOVE U SO MUCH WE CAN FINALLY GO ON DOUBLE DATES LIKE WE PLANNED ☝️☝️☝️☝️

username sid and aditya on a double date obviously with kiara and y/n

-> username need to see this happen immediately for mental health purposes

username everyday i wake up and see some shit like this. why does the universe hate me

username i wish y'all blocked me before posting this (IM SO HAPPY FOR U OH MY GOD)

username me preparing to spot aditya at EVERY gp this year bc i know my boy is not strong enough to leave y/n for more than 27 mins

maxverstappen1 he breaks your heart, i'll nail gun his.

-> yourusername alright edge lord no more wednesday for u

-> username CRYING 😭😭😭

username im so HAPPY y'all don't GET it i've been waiting for this for YEARS

username i screeched and my baby cousin woke up y'all im NOT playing around

username since no one's gonna ask the important question here I WILL

-> username what the story behind aditya and the jhadu photo ( broom )

-> yourusername he was trying to make a point and said that if acting doesn't work out he can start a cleaning service

-> adityaroykapur gaadi waala aaya ghar se kachara nikaal

-> yourusername no we cannot get rid of lando and charles

-> landonorris fuck you

-> username NO BC WHY ARE THEY CATCHING STRAYS AT EVERY POINT

adityaroykapur PRETTY word is real and it belongs to her and her only

adityaroykapur a living angel

adityaroykapur making my pupils dilate

adityaroykapur prettiest 💗💗💗

adityaroykapur my phone just did a backflip

-> username lord when will it be me

adityaroykapur i have NEVER made you cry

-> yourusername false u called me a daayan yesterday when i had my hair down ( witch )

-> adityaroykapur BECAUSE YOU LOOKED LIKE ONE

-> yourusername WOOOOOOOW.

adityaroykapur we're cute together or whatever 🥰

-> yourusername whatever 🤨

-> adityaroykapur we're cute together 🥰 ****

-> yourusername perfect 🤞

adityaroykapur all i'm saying is, it would be a GOOD cleaning service

-> yourusername never quit your day job we'd go broke so FAST 😞

-> adityaroykapur what happened to "sheesh mahal na mujhko suhaye tujh sang sooki roti bhaaye" ( basically the hindi version of "i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings" )

-> yourusername that's very rich coming from u considering ur roti looks like a different country every time

-> adityaroykapur wow.

username in love u don't get me

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, sidmalhotra, lewishamilton and 2,368,257 others

adityaroykapur i promise to take photos of you forever if it means i get to be by your side. lo mein kayamat tak hua tera ( i'm yours till the end of the world )

tagged yourusername

13,178 others

username im crying btw

username GOING FERAL OVER THE CAPTION WHAT THEBFUCK KK

username i audibly gasped i want what they have ‼️‼️‼️‼️

username THEY'RE MY PARENTS EVERYONE SHUT UP

username taylor swift writes songs about them btw

-> username ARIJIT SINGH writes songs about them more like 😭😭

username forever cackling bc sis really asked him out in the comments section

-> landonorris she got no game 😞❌

-> yourusername still pulled a bitch before u

-> landonorris she called you a BITCH adityaroykapur

-> yourusername WATCH UR BACK AT TURN 1 IN BAHRAIN I WILL ANNIHILATE U

-> adityaroykapur ...

username crying bc we're gonna get aditya at EVERY gp like im not even wrong bc that man's down BAD for her

-> username simply existing gf 🤝 obsessed bf

username god i see how kind u have to others

username alright y'all time to hug a tree 362 kmph

username O MAAHI LYRICS I AM DEAD I AM GONE I AM DECEASED I AM DECOMPOSING I AM SIX FEET UNDER

sidmalhotra happy for you both 🙄🙄🙄

-> sidmalhotra 🥰🥰🥰*****

-> yourusername stay mad bc i stole ur bf ☝️🙄

-> adityaroykapur did i unintentionally start another fight ⁉️

sidmalhotra finally no more talks about how much you want her 🥳🥳🥳

-> adityaroykapur that was CONFIDENTIAL

-> yourusername tell me more ☺️ sidmalhotra

username AND WE ALL CHEERED FINALLLLY

username the it couple of bollywood AND f1 i said what i said

username need me a guy who will post me like this or wtv 🙄🙄🙄🙄

yourusername bold of u to assume i'm leaving after the world ends 😕

-> adityaroykapur we'll haunt sid together 🤝

-> yourusername OMGGGGG YES

-> sidmalhotra MEINE KYA KIYA ( what did i do )

yourusername why do u always catch me off guard i look so bad 😭

-> adityaroykapur jhoothi you look perfect ❤️ ( liar )

yourusername i love u

-> adityaroykapur i love you so much more

-> oscarpiastri we get it MOVE ON

-> yourusername 😐😐😐

-> username LMAOOOOO

username i'm in awe WE'RE FINALLY HERE PEOPLE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #pierre gasly x reader #carlos sainz x reader #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 grid x reader #f1 x platonic!reader

460 notes · View notes

deadpeopleinc · 1 month ago

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Alright chat, here's a list of fun facts/headcanons for my Marauders era au (out of context)

The concept of songbirds has done irreversible damage to Sirius' mental health

Sirius was painfully aware of the fact he was put in the wrong Hogwarts house, while Regulus was (for once) oblivious to the fact he was put in the wrong one

James is deathly afraid of clowns and anything clown adjacent

It takes Remus about 30 seconds to decide if he likes you

Peter can cry on demand, but the fact he cries pretty easily already makes this skill useless

Sirius loves clowns and anything clown adjacent

While Marlene is 3rd in student rankings, she can't brew a potion correctly if her life depended on it

Despite her calm demeanor, Dorcas is a holiday fiend and will find any reason to go all out

Pandora has managed to trick most of the Hogwarts population into thinking she's a seer. She's not, just really observant

Rosekiller started flirting with Peter as an on the wim joke, and fell in love on an even bigger wim

It takes a 2 minute conversation with Pandora for Lily to fall in love

Peter is scarily into horror movies

Sirius is an intense gingerbread fan

James has a habit of getting weirdly poetic with his speech, but only in short bursts

James is the 'eyes always closed anime character' of Hogwarts. Sirius didn't actually know what his eye color was until 3rd year. He gets this from his father

Sirius gets incredibly defensive of his family, but will deny it like his life depends on it

Partial albinism is a Black family trait, most just choose to hide it. Narcissa and Regulus are the only ones who don't

James was the only marauder with a regular (posh) British accent until like 2nd year. He still somehow managed to understand them perfectly fine

Marlene needs glasses but would actually rather die than wear them

Sirius is left-handed, Snape is too and they both hate it because of that

Lily was a horse girl

Sirius is autistic, Snape is too and they both hate it because of that

Peter bakes and Sirius cooks

Remus manages to burn water and James isn't allowed into kitchens. Not because he's bad at cooking, he's actually really good, he just gets really controlling

James is Indian, Mexican, and Chinese

Sirius would die to be taller, but (simultaneously) finds he and Remus' height difference hot

It takes Remus 4 years to fully realize how much taller he is to everyone else

Peter love gardening

Sirius has really neat handwriting, like every essay he writes is in beautiful cursive and he hates it

Snape's favorite color is pastel pink

Snape and Sirius' friendship starts right after a fistfight in a potions classroom

It takes everyone else 6 months to find out about said friendship

When his concealing charm isn't on, Sirius' partial albinism covers the whole left side of his body. He has the most "coverage" in the entire family

James always cries during the dramatic kiss scenes in romance movies

Remus was under the impression he was bi for the longest time because he only ever had crushes on fem/androgynous guys. It took until 6th year for him to realize that didn't count because they were all still guys none the less

James thought everyone didn't see gender when it came to crushes until around 3rd year

This will almost definitely have a part 2, but this is what's on my brain at the moment.

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kumbhakarni · 1 year ago

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It's chandramukhi who Paro is goggling at, her hithertho latent stirrings NOW at their unstoppable best.

@albaharu maybe you didn't intend a sapphic au but you don't know what you've unlocked. Thank yooouuuu.

Hey dola re dola re dola re dola

I am discovering the world of indian movies and im loving it. Here you go some Paro and Chandramukhi from Devdas request of @safehousebooze <3 ty for showing me the movie

#for the chandravati au #with a vibe like DAT #you can't tell me otherwise #chandramukhi #parvati #devdas #paro #my kweens #Madhuri Dixit #Aishwarya Rai #bollywood #indian movies #sapphic #desi sapphic #desi pride #lgbtqia #lgbtq

320 notes · View notes

themareverine · 29 days ago

Text

Toy Soldiers | part one | worst!wolverine x namelessfem!OC

synopsis: He was just a one of those fast food kid’s meal toys from 1993—key word, was. now he’s Hugh Jackman incarnate, standing in the master bedroom of her midwestern apartment, lost in time and infinity. she’s gotta get him back to his world, where he’s the worst Wolverine, where he belongs—or, maybe not?

warnings: Indian in the Cupboard themes (iykyk), fluff, AU, not entirely sure what else at this point, nameless!femOC with blue eyes could be interpreted as reader, mentions of a best friend named Rose, etc, literally based on this silly little toy I rescued and now have crafted extensive lore for.

a/n: i didn't ask for this to become a multi-chapter thing. i really didn't, ok? this got away from me, but i really love these two so much already. this was fun to write, and she's a fun character to develop. worst!wolverine is just occupying too much brain space.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

Dreaming in color is a pro, when you weigh it against the cons—usually.

She’d been dreaming in movie-like quality since she was a kid, could pinpoint almost to the exact timespace when she first realized her dreams were akin to Hollywood flicks roving about her brain like Spielberg classics.

She’d been six, maybe seven. A hopeless crush on Wednesday night’s Steve Irwin had somehow twisted the innocent power of her brain—the only, almost divine dreamstate visit to Australia she’d ever taken. Still she can taste the hot air, thick with sweat and arid desert, from the back of an obscure Land Rover, jostled and bouncing along forgotten roads and who-knows trails. Eyeballing open sky and endless outback sands, the Crocodile Hunter and his darling wife, Terri, vivid imaginations to a childhood fantasy yet, mostly, unlived.

And ever since this God-granted, she’d always assumed it was a gift and thus titled it so, she’d been dreaming vividly most of the last twenty four years. Forgetting her dreams was the exception, black and white—unheard of. Tasting, speaking, reading, touch was wrapped up in REM and weighted blankets, vicarious life she’d never, really, lived in her waking moments—everything from the supernatural to gut-wrenching. Martial bliss and familial tragedy. Combat she could only ever hope wasn’t accurate. Fame and fortune. R rated filmstrips that left her stomach light and fluttery every morning, promptly, at 4:45—alarm shrieking in her ear, viscerally ripping her back to the land of the living with frothing teeth, the Greatest Showman custom alarm all but a slap in the face.

It’s, as usual, dark when the numbers on her phone roll over to 4:45—sucked out of a dream like the vacuum of space itself lays claim to her soul, her eyes flutter open heavily to stare at the alarm. Hugh Jackman would never be so unwelcome as he is now, blaring from little iPhone speakers—she manages to lift a noodle-esque arm to slap at the noise hanging out in the darkness around the vicinity of her nightstand.

Fingers locate the smooth screen, swipe away the prompt for snooze. Roll over. Hand over her eyes—it’s Saturday The day after Friday, her first day alone all week. World beyond is closed away behind walls and empty schedules, priorities otherwise left-fielded for such days as this.

Warmth simmers beneath heavy weighted covers, trapped against her body. Clawing up through her mattress, threatening to pull her back into oblivion. Pharaoh’s hadn’t been so mummified, entombed as she is now, but that’s the beauty of a queen mattress left unshared—solidarity. Armies only wish they held such control over real estate as she did these sheets, this bed frame—very little could remove her from the ecstasy that is this Eden, the one place that did not require compliance, performance, untenable perfection.

Here she could rot for hours, engage in adventure that the earth would never understand—that man would jeer.

Heaving a sigh melts her deeper into her astronaut-designed mattress, stomach suddenly flatter than it’s ever been as gently fingers tease at the strip of skin exposed. Back arching, stirring nearly-paralyzed muscle. Toes skip over warm satin sheets as she navigates to her side, arm tucking beneath her pillow. Drawing blankets to her chin, another deep breath closes her eyes, shuts off her brain—all but ready to return to dreamstate, the screen on her phone illuminates again—diiiiing.

Light explodes, lighting up the area of her nightstand just enough to give purpose to her surroundings.

Nose scrunching in an effort to unhear and forget the notification, her eyes slowly pull open as she considers the phone. It’s her best friend, she knows it is—Rose is up early. All the time. Taking care of her little family at the base of the Teton mountains, as if this is Little House on the Prairie and such things were the norm.

Her inability to ignore anything from Rose props her up on an elbow, has her reaching for her phone—thumbs the passcodes. Opens the text, eyes scanning the message from last night.

It’s a photo message. She’d sent it last night, proudly showing off the latest addition to her childhood nostalgia collection—a thrift store find, the little McDonald’s toy is hardly noteworthy. Scuffed and worn, it had seen adventures, surely, in its pre-her-possession life. Surprise had knocked her between the eyes like a stone when she’d managed to spy 1993 printed on the little action hero’s foot, in barely-there legalese.

At thirty-one years old, one may have expected the little five-cent made-in-Taiwan to end up in the landfill, rotting alongside near-radioactive diapers or kill-the-turtles plastic straws.

Nope, not this one—Marvel’s very own little Wolverine. Dolled up in a cute little sci-fi bronze suit, ready for a fight. Retractable claws, the hardly-scuffed cowl, a proud encircled X in all its glory—wrapped up in a little sandwich baggie marked down at the thrift. She’d almost felt sorry for him in that cute aggressive way.

And almost giddy at the fluke cocktail of age and condition, she’d pocketed the little guy. A pleased smile, her very own little Wolvie nestled in the leathers of her jacket, then the bottom of her purse. He’d adventured to work with her accidentally on Friday, plastic eyes watching her pass the time at the office from his little perch beside her keyboard and Starbucks. Almost had forgotten him, poor thing—he’d landed on her nightstand among the other needs-put-away items for the weekend, proudly standing in his posed little battle stance.

All he needed was matching Sabretooth, maybe Magneto, and he’d be good to go.

Looky who came home with *me*, shot over to Rose with a little thrill, a Snapchat-like photo of him perched alongside her night cream and phone charger. More of a proud sentinel guarding her bedside table than anything, she’d regarded him playfully, like a child—had told him to close his eyes when she’d undressed. Had asked him about a movie to watch in bed as she managed hip-opening exercises, relaxing breathing techniques. All but kissed him goodnight, promising to get him settled among her other collectable childhood wonders in the morning.

After coffee and cardio, wouldn’t Hugh be proud.

Rose’s LOL text all but smiles back at her, and she’s a little cross-eyed from the brightness of her phone. It improves when her eyes skate away from the phone, to the little Wolverine—wait.

Brow furrowing, his absence from the nightstand sparks more panic than she’d be willing to admit in therapy—she bends over the side of her bed, fingertips skating the floor in search of her little plastic wonder. Nothing but plush carpet, abandoned laundry she’d failed to relocate to her drawers—her phone slips from her hand as she hauls herself over the bedside, to peer beneath.

It’s dark, duh, and she fumbles upside-down with the flashlight on her phone. Sun levels of intense light, she makes arching passes beneath her bed, but no dice. Nada. Zilch–zippo on the Wolverine toy.

“Well this is just a little ridiculous,” her mumble rolls off a dry tongue, from messy hair as she works herself back up from hanging over the bedside.

Forcing off her weighted blankets has never felt more urgent, importance spiking her blood with ill-placed adrenaline she doesn’t understand—why she cares so much about a little three-decade-old McDonald’s toy she’ll never understand, but the thought of him lost in the abyss of her house is more unsettling, again, than she’d admit in therapy.

Legs swinging over the bed, she plucks her glasses from the tray on her nightstand, grabbing for the light robe dragging the floor from one of the nightstand’s knobs.

Wrestling a steer would’ve been easier than un-inside-outing the garment, still hazy and half-asleep and wholly uncaffeinated, but she manages. Another scout under her bed reveals that, no, little Wolvie isn’t among the dust bunnies and lint of her carpeted under-bed floor.

Brow furrowing, her glasses slip down her nose as she hauls herself back to her feet, sleep-stiff muscles protesting as she massages the back of her neck.

Hands on her hips, she reaches for her phone. “Had I known you had teleportation powers, little Lo, I’d have sold you off to NASA—come on,” Triggering the flashlight on her phone again, she dives to check between the headboard and mattress, to see if her Logan lookalike decided to magically dive headfirst into the almost-abyss—

“—you make a habit of talkin’ to open air, girlie?”

Two things happen immediately in her body.

First. Alarm jumps up in her chest like a devil, deep claws sinking into the meat of her chest only to rip away any sense of safety taking up residence behind her ribs, in her bones. Heart forgetting to throb, blood all but stands still in her veins, asystole in her arteries—she can feel the lining of her stomach twist into a viper-like coil so cold, she fears frostbite has set into her organs.

Fear knocks hard on the door of her sternum, ripping the wind from her lungs. Terror opens up her vocal cords and bludgeons a song from her throat, but it’s so dry in her apartment that the fleshy membranes of her mouth have all but become cragged Sahara sands. Tongue swelling to the size of her fist, she fears she’ll choke on it. Forces it against the back of her bottom teeth, jaw clenching with enough force to break open the world.

Legs somehow managing to propel her up onto her mattress, across the bed, to the farthest corner of the space. Cold sweat raises to a dance across her skin, satin sleeping pants clinging to the flesh of her thighs as sapphire eyes attack the figure cutting through the threshold of her door—hands low and open, in placating surrender.

Brow furrowed with canyon deep lines, dark eyes flick over her frame as she takes a step back for each of the ones he cautiously makes into the room. Invading her privacy, an unwelcome intruder.

“Easy, sweetheart,” early morning gravels his words, which hang low in baritones not at all unfamiliar, “‘m not gonna hurt you. You breathin’ ok?” Genuine concern passes through his eyes, deep and alive, but—not in a bright way. The corner of his lip tips up, “Don’t mean to scare ya, pretty.”

Pretty? Sweetheart? Who the hell is this—?

Any familiarity his face holds is lost to the bite of adrenaline, slavering teeth trenching into the back of her brain. Seeming to lap at the spinal fluid all but bubbling down the length of her back. Chest heaving with effort, she fears her ribs might break. Cardiac muscle behind her chest bones all but explodes with every heavy heartbeat, reminding her to stay alive. That she, still, is living.

Stomach sour, twisting like corded steel, she lunges for the foot of her bed—snatched the first thing she can retrieve. Face all but a blazing inferno of heat, nails all but pike into the soft plush of a stuffed animal. Her favorite. Or, rather, was—now little more than a weapon, it stands between her and the invasion like a fortress.

“What the hell are you doing here,”she challenges, taking a half step back. Memories of kickboxing classes, somewhere in her youth, escape through the fingers of memories in the back of her head. More boxing posture than anything, she lifts her arms to chin level. Fingers tear into the stuffie like it’s a lifeline, like it’s protection. And for now, it is.

Not giving him the chance to answer, his mouth hangs open in muted response, “This is my apartment—you can either leave or I’ll–I’ll forcibly remove you.” It would take a 911 call—it would mean grabbing her phone from the nightstand, punching the emergency button, and staying away from him during response time. All unlikely, given proximity. The size of the apartment. How he blocks the only damn exit with his huge-ass frame.

Jaw snapping closed, a thick brow pops up. He chuckles. He think this is funny, “Whoa, take it easy, bub—”

“—shut up! Stop talking!” Pointing a strong finger at him, she shuffles back on light feet. Bobbing as best she can, trying to appear light. Prepared. But everything in every manual in the world wouldn’t have prepared her for home invasion—all those home defense classes. The hours shooting clays and targets with her father. Worthless.

I am so going to die.

Another step into her sanctuary, holy of holies. “Quit moving, damnit!”

The stranger stops mid-stride, brows arched in surprise at her tone of voice. Squinched nose, and tightly shut eyes add to what must be a comical look on her face. Coupled with crimson cheeks and the shake setting into her hands, she surely looks—well. A sight, if little else.

Realizing nothing short of an eternity has lapsed in the cool peace and blissfully ignorant darkness of closed eyes, hers pop open. She watches has near-pawlike hands, mapped with raised veins and pronounced callous, drop to his sides for all of a minute. Her heart cuts against her ribs like an ax laid to roots, willing to break something loose—he chuckles. Laughs. Some faraway light catches the darkness of his eyes, brightens his face in a way that only ever seemed so Hollywood, but is now real.

And he laughs with his entire body for all of a few seconds, wrinkles at either side of his eyes deepening into canyons that seem to fill with his amusement, at her expense.Mind short circuiting, her toes curl into the carpet, calluses on her heels catching frayed fibers as she does her best, again, to stay light on her feet. Nothing about her is light, certainly, and she attempts to calculate distance, how many seconds it would take her launch her body forward, toward the door. Past him, into the corridor, out the front door.

HIs hand extends, palm up. Waving her forward, as if she were some thing to beckon—

—until her stuffie chucks directly at his face, a blur of hot-pink fur and fluff.

The moment she arched her arm and sent Mr. Hearts on his first-ever attempt of flight, her feet springboard off the carpet, launching her forward at a speed she never thought possible. Adrenaline jumpstarts every one of her cells, lacing through her veins like rocket fuel—and the world spins by in a blur of color, her chest racked with pain as her heart racehorses behind bones that are no less than temperatures akin to magma.

Tunnel vision blocks out the world, save the nearly sparkling promise of the room’s exit. Tears bubble up on her lash line, hot and intruders on any clarity of brainspace she’s trying to will forward. Hot, breathy fear closes her throat, nothing but blood rivers through her ears—nothing except the ache of her throbbing heart, the painful push and pull of her lungs expanding and retracting.

They say hearing is the last thing to go when your soul begins to fade into death, but it’s a lie—she can’t hear a damn thing. And she’s more than alive.

Missing completely the soft snikt!, the what-would-usually-be unmissable split of skin, there’s a muffled tearing of fabric as once beloved Mr. Hearts suddenly becomes two halves of himself. Puffy stuffing explodes into the air, faintly she can feel her beloved stuffed animal hit the floor mutedly. In some back door of her brain she knows what’s happened, but survival carries her feet—pumps her arms. Zeroes her gaze on the door, blocks out anything other than the gut instinct to run, run, run hard.

Finger reach to grab the doorway, hurl herself around the corner—but it’s too late. Electric movement snaps through the air, a microsecond passes before a thick, heavy arm catches her around her waist. Hauls her backward, sucks her from the door like something from Star Wars, the world spinning by in a Picasso of color and tears as she’s manhandled, forced back. Kicking her feet into the air, she wills him to break, throwing her body mass back, against him. Arches her back. Wrangles and claws at the hair on his arm, the muscle that is taught against her rebellion.

Throat splitting with a shriek, she’s silenced when his enormous palm claps hard over her mouth. It feels like centuries have passed, but in reality, it’s been seconds. Breaths and heartbeats. Tears trailblaze hot down her face, her throat all but reverberating with sobs. Body heat wraps around her, butter down her spine as the arm around her middle pulls her tighter. Closer. Keep your enemies close—

And he’s tall, legs anchored behind her. Like a brick house. Snot begins to empty her sinuses in a slick, sticky mess. Her mouth attempts to open behind the palm of his hand,all saliva and spit. Doesn’t seem to do much. Digging her heels into the floor, her foot skims the floor. Looks for one of his. Finding it, she slams her heel against would-be soft bones, and he hisses. Grunts like an animal.

“Knock it off,” his baritone rumbles, a dangerous growl over her ear, “not here to hurt you, darlin’.” A lie. She doesn’t believe him, digs her heels farther into the soft flesh of his feet. Buries her nails into his muscle, the soft flesh of that tender spot under the wrist. Veins, lots of blood there.

Something obscene slips past his lips. Fighting back more stinging tears, his fingers curl around her wrist bruisingly, and with herculean strength, he whips her about-face, suddenly chest-to-chest with her as his fingers fist in her hair. Pulls sharply, “fuckin’ hell—calm the fuck down,” his fingers fall from her hair, instead grab her chin with an almost bruising grip, “stop bawlin’, for Christssake,”

Her nails milk as they dig into his wrist, deep red lines canyon the hand holding her face with a patience lost to most members of his sex. Hard, dark eyes hold hers with a fierceness that numbs her intestinal tract. For a moment, an arctic swirl is born and dies in his gaze, resurrected instead a hint of grief and—empathy, maybe. A lostness she can’t describe. Confusion punches lines between his knitted brows, etching deep into ruddy, masculine features a kind of unwordly handsome, had he not been sent to kill her.

Oh God, please—Shaking, her eyes pinch closed again, unwilling to let him see any more of her soul. More snot and tears, saliva pearls between the seam of her lips as she tries, and fails, not to blubber. Knees buckle. Hangs there, full weight of her body supported on her chin between his fingers, jaw suddenly alive with inferno pain. It lasts seconds before he lets her go, and she sinks to the floor, slackdoll and sobbing. Staring across the floor, her cheek burns against the harsh fibers of the floor.

Her belt. Abandoned, on the floor last night after a work dinner. It’s the only thing, and her brain conjures images of just exactly how she’d use it, suddenly Jackie Chan or GI Jane or some shit she’s seen a thousand times on film, has never executed. Hiccuping in short breaths between sniffles and sobs, tears leak into the carpet off her cheek. Her heart pumps blood that may as well pool into her chest, leak between the cracks in her confidence.

Stepping back, he looks at her. A cocktail of surprise and irritated, he sinks to a crouch. Shakes off red marks that still linger on his arm, wipe her snot and saliva on his-–are those yellow?-–pants. No time to notice, to care—her nails catch against the fibers of the carpet. Begin to push her bodyweight up, on an elbow.

Unburdening a sigh, his hand scrubs his face as hers darts across floorspace. Snatching the belt with a speed she’s never fostered, he doesn’t even have time to put two and two together before the leather snaps like a whip, thick silvers from a rodeo buckle landing fully on the bone of his jaw. Cuts a deep line that flashes scarlet, rips open flesh like a fillet knife.

“Fuck!” it’s harsh, bestial.

Reeling back, she finds time to scramble to her feet like a clumsy foal, looping the belt around her fist once as he pops tall. Backpedaling away from arm’s length, she pistons towards the door, on fire and pumping adrenaline like a sieve.

And she flies. Out of the bedroom. Down the corridor. Somehow she manages to find her keys on the kitchen table as his heavy, earthshaking feet pump down the hall. Fumbles over her own feet at the front door, slams into it hard, bounces off. Fingers suddenly unable to communicate coherently with her brain, the chain lock on her apartment door is all but burning as she tries, and fails, to work it just so.

“Come on, come on! Work, you piece of shit—” she’s never sworn more in her life than she has now, and it’s sour, like bile splashing up on her back teeth. But it rips from her throat all the same, bitter and hot, as she mutters fuck, fuck, fuck me! under short, airy breaths that do nothing to put oxygen back into her body. May as well be a drowning soul, the way she sucks in air. Gasps for breath. Drowning or an emphysemic.

Ignoring the hard breathing behind her is impossible. Whirling around on the ball of her foot, he’s close enough to lock her against the door. Her head falls back hard enough to knock against the door, rattle her teeth. And as her vision begins to settle from the bouncing in her cranium, she sees the three blades bury to the knuckle—the knuckle?—in her heavy, pristine oak front door. Rattles the wall, splits the sheetrock.

Pupils blown wide, she can feel all the blood leave her body. Terror locks her spine between slavering, hungry teeth. Gaze welded to the blood pearling from fresh wounds between white knuckles, the hinge of her jaw fails. Her mouth opens mutedly, enough for him to count her teeth if he so desired.

And maybe he does. “Goin’ somewhere, honey,” it isn’t a question. That grin is animalistic. “Stay awhile, huh?”

He closes in. Her head snaps forward to find him. Nose to nose, he sneers at her, and her eyes think to move to the fillet of open flesh her attack has left on his jawline—or, had. No evidence of even so much as a mark on the sharp line of his jaw, just dark facial hair and sweat that’s bubbling up on his skin, angry red that fans up his neck. Swearing to God she can see the vein in his temple throb with blood, her grip on the leather belt tightens before reality sets in.

Ohmygod, ”You’re—” her stomach resurrects up her throat. ”—Jesus,” and it isn’t so much a curse as it is a prayer, a hope. A lifeline—grasping at straws, praying something sticks.

Reality begins to fall away, through boneless fingers. Feeling the belt slip from her control, her throat suddenly constricts to the point of oxygen deprivation. Gaping like a fish, her tongue swells to a thick cotton she can no longer feel.

Numb—everything buzzes with that painful, white-noise needling.

And she does the only thing her body can manage. Shoves past him just enough to upset a chair—

—-and throws up.

still working on my taglist but: @thevoicefromanotherworld @sidkneeeee @misscrissfemmefatale @eternallyfrustratedwriter and those who showed interest: @ayamenimthiriel @pandapetals @theoreticalfreak @definitely-not-chill @ghostytoasty17 @werewolfpilar

#hugh jackman #wolverine #logan howlett #logan #x men #worst!logan howlett #worst!wolverine #worst!logan x reader #worst logan #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x oc #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #wolverine logan #hugh jackman wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #worst wolverine #wolverine x reader

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shiny-jr · 15 days ago

Note

Loved all your info about Empyrean with my last ask and left comments/reblog to it, and so sorry to spam your asks especially when you’re still working on this idea, but I’m just curious and want to hear whatever ramblings you’d like to share!

You mentioned Heartslabyul being inspired by Europe with a dash of volcanos via borders and I’m sure there’s going to be lots of references to the regions of origin for the fairytales/Disney movies for each. But are there other places of the world you’re drawing inspiration from, whether in real life or from Genshin too?

You’ve given teasers about Leona and Idia, along with the original premise post for a few of the other archons, are there any other backstories you’ve been developing for the archons or even the other characters?

Again, sorry to spam your asks but the more I look into Genshin, the more I’m excited by Empyrean and wishing you all the best in writing~!

So if y'all recall, my biggest qualm with Genshin Impact was the amalgamation of cultures and cultures as costume. I am NOT trying to do that here. However, here's the problem when it comes to implementing the twst x genshin au: a majority of the stories are based in Europe or have European origins. So that means that most of the world, if we go by that logic, would be European, which doesn't sit right with me.

So for story's sake, I think I'll imply in the story that the seven nations are the ones of the known world, and the most recognized due to their archon's power. I've considered maybe changing the setting of a nation, but that doesn't exactly sit right with me either. So that's why I stated here and like I said, it will be implied in the story, that there is another part of the world not even really known. That being said, I probably won't lean too heavily into the cultural aspect of the story. However, there will be mentions here and there. Keep in mind though, I belong to none of these cultures, so I'll try to research to the best of my ability but it's also why, like I just said, I don't want to heavily into the cultural aspect of the story, because by no means do I want to get something wrong and offend anyone.

Here's my thought process for the inspiration of each. Keep in mind, this is still very much a work in progress.

Heartslabyul: British Isles

If you thought this was gonna be any other place, then what the hell are you thinking? Riddle definitely has a British accent. The tea, the tarts, all that stuff? Very British, if you ask me. Of course there's the fact that the original author of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland is from Britain.

Savanaclaw: East Africa

After bit of research, I found several things. Such as the fact that many of the names from The Lion King movie are based off the Swahili language. Zulu is apparently also spoken in the opening song, The Circle of Life. Additionally, the Pride Lands are said to be set in either Tanzania or Kenya.

Octavinelle: Scandinavia(?)

I know a lot of people like to debate where The Little Mermaid takes place, but I'm basing this on the origins of the author, as he is Danish. Also, if you recall, I believe there's in game dialogue where one of the Octavinelle characters mentions how ice often makes it difficult for them to return home, thus suggesting that their homeland is very cold. Originally I did want to add a tropical location, but this complicates things.

Scarabia: Arabian Peninsula(?)

Yes, yes, there's the fact that the movie of Aladdin takes inspiration from Indian and other Southeast Asian cultures, but from what I've seen, the story seems to mainly derive from Arabic cultures. Aside for the fact that the story of Aladdin is said to come from the Islamic Golden Age and is from a collection of Middle Eastern folktales. If you research names like Kalim or Jamil, they do have Arabic origins.

Pomefiore: Central/Eastern Europe(?)

We all know the Brothers Grimm, yes? Authors of many fairytales, one of which being Snow White. Well, they're German. And, I mean, the archon is going to be Vil SCHOENHEIT, if that's not German sounding last name, then I dunno what is. Why did I include Eastern Europe? Because I personally HC a lot of the characters with accents and the accent I imagine Epel with is some type of Slavic. God, I love creative freedom.

Ignihyde: Greece

This one isn't even a debate. I don't gotta say why.

Diasomnia: Western Europe(?)

It is said that one of the earliest records of Sleeping Beauty was in a French book. If we look at some of the inspiration from the movie, it's said to take place in a French medieval kingdom. So yeah, it just made sense in my mind.

#shiny speaks #empyrean twst au

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redbullgirly · 1 year ago

Note

hi i saw your requests are open!! i was wondering if you could write a lance x indian!famous!fem reader where shes an actress and shes always getting shipped with other indian actors and she decided to hard launch her and lances wedding. fc - janhvi kapoor

thank you 💗

THE WEDDING [LS18 smau]

Lance Stroll x indian!famous!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is a loved celebrity and her fans often speculate about her dating life, shipping her with other Indian actors and men. But what if, one day, she decides to hard launch her wedding with someone as unexpected as Formula One driver, Lance Stroll?

Warnings: I don't know many things about famous Indian actors, movies or series, and same goes for Indian culture. If you find any errors in this matter, please let me know! :)

Author's Note: Hi Anon, thank you for this request. I have to say it was probably the hardest social media au I have ever done, because I don't know basically anything about Indian movies, celebrities, actors and everything else... I found some random actors, but if some of you know them and I didn't portray them correctly, sorry about that! Though I hope you and everyone else will like it and enjoy it. Also thanks for the face claim, it helped me orient at least a little bit.

yourusername posted on instagram

liked by shahidkapoor, bellahadid, ishaankhatter, lance_stroll and 2,349,122 others

yourusername time for loveee 🤍🌻👡

view all 3,206 comments

user1 step on me. i beg

user2 Loveee💜🔥

shahidkapoor Always need time for love!💕😁

user3 i'm sensing something here 👀

user4 Wow okay Shahid... are you hinting something??

user5 always time for love you say😏

user6 PLEASE YOU AND Y/N WOULD BE THE PERFECT COUPLE

user7 Guys he's literally happily married. Calm down 🙄

user8 well he can dump her ass and marry y/n instead lol

user9 Y/N & Shahid nation STAND UP he commented😍😍

user10 So elegant so beautiful just looking like a wow 😳

user11 dream girl with dream life

user12 I don't like the Shahid and Y/N shippers in this comment section... c'mmon guys it's not gonna happen you can chill

user13 exactly if she's dating someone then it's obviously ishaankhatter 🤭

user14 giiiirl tagging him is WILD😭 but same tbh, I also think they'd be better couple🤷‍♀️

user15 naaaaah y/n and shahid 4ever

ranveersingh 💜🖤

user16 OMGGG

user17 he's here. I repeat: THE KING ARRIVED🗣🗣🗣

user18 ohhh I kinda see the potential of y/n and him being the IT couple😻

user7 Why the hell do you keep shipping this poor woman with older married dudes? Stop!

user19 jesus user7 let us live we do it just for fun🖕

user20 Idk about you guys but I don't do it just for fun... I live for this😂

user21 yeah same user20

user22 Can we talk about the fact he used the black heart he often uses in his captions plus the purple heart that Y/N just used in her caption?? Like hello? This has to mean something!!

user23 omg right? they're definitely hinting something🤨

user24 Hear me out, I'm Y/N's fan and ship her with multiple actors... but now you're being delusional, it's literally an emoji xd

user23 nah user22 convinced me there has to be something more to it🫡

user24 Perfect💯 wife material

harnaazsandhu_03 Need your makeup tutorial asap!✨🔥

user25 ME TOO PLS

user26 guysss what if she's trying to hint she was on a date or sm??!!!

user27 THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!!! Sry but the rose filled tub looks like it can fit two 🫢

user28 who do you think it is then?

user29 Pls Shadid Kapoor🫣

user30 I'm actually praying it's Ishaan rn🙏🙏🙏

user23 and i'm a new member of y/n and raveer singh nation... like imagine the matching outfits they'd slay together😩

user31 Unpopular opinion but I see Y/N with Varun dhawan

user33 yeah real unpopular 'cause he just announced he's engaged like two weeks ago girly 💀

user34 youu>>>>>>>>>

user35 Medical science has really reached another level with your plastic operations🥴

user36 stfu

dior 🤩💜

liked by the author

user37 help not liking dior comment being y/n's only interaction under this whole post

user38 Poor her she probably doesn't want to have even more dating rumors going around because of replying to someone's comment...😕

user39 lmao don't make her into some tortured soul, she's probably just too busy XD

user40 your photos are so aesthetic🥰

user41 I WANT HER TO FINALLY DATE SOMEONE SO BAAAD

twitter & messages between Y/N and Lance

yourusername posted on instagram

liked by dhramamovie, tigerjackieshroff, lance_stroll, ranveersingh and 5,207,155 others

tagged: vogueindia

yourusername thank you for this amazing photoshoot!🖤☀️

view all 5,908 comments

user1 Absolutely gorgeous 😍

user2 omg guys she used the black heart!!!

user3 No way, that literally has to be a sign🫢

user4 wait im so confused... what is happening?

user5 It's about Ranveer Singh using the black heart emoji in his captions pretty often, commenting it under her last post and now her having it in her own caption

user4 wtf? you ranveer girlies are CRAZY 😭

user5 stfu user4 they're meant to be together🥰🥰

priyankachopra Beautiful girl!❤️🙏

yourusername thx!!

user6 y/n finally replied to someone's comment🫣

user7 Noooo why is it Priyanka Chopra??! Reply to Shahid or someone you're dating😓

user8 guys let her live... this is exactly why she isn't replying to anyone

user9 TWO QUEENS INTERACTING 😻

user10 Absolute Stunner 🖤🖤🖤🖤

vogueindia Our pleasure collaborating with you!🫶

liked by the author

user11 even vogue is Y/N's fan😌

user12 Why are some f1 drivers in this woman's likes???🤨

user13 'cause she's famous lol

user14 Lance and others are always in Y/N's likes, I guess they know each other from some event or maybe they like Indian movies she's been in... idk, the world can be really small XD

user12 It's still kinda suspicious🧐

user13 naaah it really is not

user14 tasteful🌹

therajakumari Icon

user15 we love women supporting women

varundvn Didn't see you for a while and suddenly you're dressed in black... any more surprises coming? 🤔🖤🤍

user16 WHAT DO YOU KNOW VARUN

yourusername hmmm let me think 🤔

user17 I can't believe my eyes... did Y/N just reply to a man in her comments?😨

user18 OMGGGG

user19 no but what does it meeaaaannn?!

user20 This is a good day to be Varun and Y/N shipper🤭

user21 the emojis HELLO

user22 nothing will ever convince me they aren't secretly in love and dating 🥰

user23 Ehm... he literally has a fiancé?

user22 and what? maybe she's just a cover for him and y/n 😉

user24 I wanna be heeer

user25 I wanna be WITH her

voguemagazine 📸📸📸

liked by the author

user26 Bohot sundar 😍 [Very beautiful 😍]

messages between Y/N, Varun Dhawan, Shahid Kapoor, Ranveer Singh and Ishaan Khatter

yourusername posted on instagram stories

seen by lance_stroll, ranveersingh, chloestroll, fernandoalo_oficial and 3,209,877 others

lance_stroll replied to your story: Can't wait to see my beautiful bride! ❤️

yourusername ohhh baby i'm so excited and nervous for tomorrow 😭🥰

lance_stroll Me too... but as long as we have each other, it's going to be okay

yourusername ofc lance 🫶

lance_stroll And if you change your mind about going public, just let know, okay sweetheart?

yourusername thank you, but i won't

yourusername it's time for the world to see my man 😘

lance_stroll ❤️

user1 replied to your story: y/nnnn what's happening

user2 replied to your story: I'm praying for you & Shahid rn 🙏

user3 replied to your story: Girlie isn't that the song you once said you want to play at your wedding???🫣

user4 replied to your story: So pretty

user5 replied to your story: 😍

varundvn replied to your story: Let's go! 🔥

yourusername are you srsly trying to hype up rn? 😭

varundvn ... Is it working?

yourusername ...maybe

varundvn Then let's go you're going to smash it in the wedding dress!🔥

yourusername u have no idea how much i'm glad crazy people ship us 'cause we got to meet thx to that 😭

user6 replied to your story: Bf reveal!!!!

user7 replied to your story: pls tell me you're finally going to announce you're dating one of your co-stars

user8 replied to your story: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FALL ASLEEP TODAY KNOWING TOMORROW IS HAPPENING SOMETHING BIG😩

yourusername and lance_stroll posted on instagram

liked by f1, shahidkapoor, charles_leclerc, kellypiquet and 20,344,109 others

yourusername Y/N & Lance Y/L/N Stroll 🤍💍

view all 34,029 comments

user1 I did NOT expect that

ranveersingh Congratulations to my favourite couple! Memorable day and beautiful ceremony.

liked by the author and lance_stroll

user2 my heart is breaking rn💔

user3 OMG RANVEER WAS THERE?!!

user4 i feel stupid for shipping him w y/n 😃

user5 But can we talk about how sweet it is he attended her wedding???🥺

user6 nooooo my favourite ship

user7 I guess at least they're close enough to go to each other's wedding 🫠

user8 this was definitely not on my 2024 bingo card

fernandoalo_oficial my first indian wedding but definitely not the last 🤪

lance_stroll Already planning on changing us for someone else?

fernandoalo_oficial no, but you can have like a golden wedding in twenty years 😄

yourusername you'll be definitely invited

user9 never in my life did i imagine fernando alonso and y/n y/l/n interacting with each other

user10 RIGHT? it still feels like a fever dream😭

user11 the wedding looks so beautiful!🥹🫶

shahidkapoor Forever & Always

liked by the author and lance_stroll

user12 that was supposed to be your wedding to Y/N dude

user13 MY FAVOURITE SHIP IS IN RUINS

user14 rip shahid and y/n girlies... 💔🥲

user15 Guys, let him be. He is married and so is Y/N now. It's actually sweet that he wishes them well.

user16 QUEEN😻

user17 who's here from f1 fandom ⬇️

user18 me and i can't believe lance stroll pulled some hot famous indian actress

user19 yeah, today has been crazy... 🤠

user20 I just saw one of her films and damn it's actually good xd

user21 how did we know NOTHING about lance being in a relationship???

user22 Idk I was just so shocked when I saw this post lol

user23 the twitter detectives got played this time😭

user24 No but why do I kinda understand why Y/N and Lance fit together perfectly-

user25 WE SEE THE VISION SIS

varundvn We can't send each other funny theories about our secret relationship anymore... 😓

liked by ishaankhatter, shahidkapoor and ranveersing

varundvn Anyway, congratulation so much! I bet I was the best bridesmaid you ever saw! 🫶

liked by the author and lance_stroll

user26 LOL not him being at the wedding as well 😃

user27 Why are all the men she was shipped with coming into these comments dropping hints about being besties and going to the wedding?!

user28 guys they were making fun of us the whole time🙃

user29 THEM SEDING EACH OTHER THEORIES HELP

f1 We hope to see Y/N in the paddock next season!🤩

user30 she will slay

user31 she will eat

user32 If we get Y/N in the paddock, maybe I can get over my favorite ships being turned into dust🫢

user33 I'M DEAD

isahernaez Dreamy wedding 🎀🤍

yourusername dreamy girl right here 😻

user34 i mean... congrats, but what the hell-?!!

user35 🥰🥳

user36 THIS IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE

THE END

Author's Note: Thank you for reading this social media au! I hope you liked it and I'll appreciate likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. If you want to send requests for either social media au or normal written fanfiction, don't be shy. Have a great day!

354 notes · View notes

thekatebridgerton · 1 year ago

Note

Ok but Kathony ‘Thoda Pyar, Thoda Magic’ AU:

A mischievous and sharp tongued angel, Kate going down to be the governess for Anthony’s youngest siblings after the loss of Violet to help bring the family together. His seven younger siblings try to outsmart her but she is always one step ahead of them, causing fun and laughter as they grew to love her. While she and Anthony engage a forbidden love as Kate tries her best not to love him because she would have to leave. She always tells him, she must leave once the time is right but he is adamant she stays.

Bonus: Angel Sophie and Angel Penelope are part of the crazy shenanigans by distracting Benedict and Colin.

Next on our list of Indian movie recs, this one is actually more romantic and yes I would love to see an Au based on Thoda Phyaar Thoda Magic Au (YASSS a rom com with Rani Mukerji, I love that actress)

I like to think that in this Au, it’s Edmund who dies, and looks after his family from heaven (because I can’t imagine Violet dying in any au), but when papa Edmund sees Anthony struggling so much under the weight of his responsibilities and how the siblings are falling apart. He sends Angel Kate to help them, because she’s the most diligent Angel he knows. That way Kate can officially earn her wings and become a fully mature Angel, instead of a just a babysitter. The thing is that once she’s on earth, pretending to be the younger children governess, the siblings are determined to make Anthony’s life a living nightmare, and Kate starts to bond with Anthony too much.

But the more Kate helps Anthony get close to his siblings, the more she finds herself falling inlove with him, which is wrong because Angels are not supposed to love the way humans do, Angels feel friendly love, never romantic love, that’s why love between angels and humans is forbidden. Still, watching the development, Angel Sophie and Angel Penelope sneak out of heaven behind Edmund’s back, in order to rescue Kate and stop her from falling inlove with the very human son of their Angelic boss. With Angel Sophie pretending to be a maid for Eloise and Angel Penelope pretending to be a neighbour they never noticed was living next door. Kate doing her best to keep to her mission and save the Bridgerton family from falling apart, and Sophie and Penelope doing their best to sabotage Kate’s growing relationship with Anthony. Which doesn’t work well, because Benedict and Colin clue in to what these two clumsy girls are trying to do and start following them around to prevent any mishaps from happening around Anthony and Kate. Because Anthony may be garbage, but he is their garbage and only they are allowed to sabotage his life! Everyone else can’t bully him.

I like to think that in the end Edmund pulls some strings in heaven for Kate to become human, but Sophie and Penelope are held back for punishment because they went behind Edmund’s back and actually caused a lot of chaos, spreading gossip and punching Araminta. Edmund still allows them to attend Kate’s wedding tho and if I were writing this, I’d leave it on a cliffhanger for Ben and Colin to see them at the wedding and realize that these two girls are actually also Angels just like Kate.

And that’s the tea

#bridgerton #kanthony au #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #we stan indian movies

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neoruby-loves-ut-aus · 10 days ago

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When you're an Undertale AU fan but you're from India....

*inhales* time to add some desi magic to the Sans AUs:

*my Star Sanses play red hands, a game where basically you put your hand on top of the other's hand but you have to slam it down with great force and the one's hand which turns red the most wins*

*the canon Star Sanses see this*

Canon Ink: oh what's this? Can I join?

My Ink: oh sure!

*Ink slams his hand down on canon Ink's hand*

Canon Ink: Hmm....its fun but why are Dream and Swap screaming when their other versions are doing the same?

Ink: we can't feel pain that's why

*meanwhile with the bad Sanses*

*my Nightmare enters in front of them*

Nightmare: WHO BROKE MY COFFEE MUG?!

*insert intense Indian drama effects and transitions with everyone having shocked expressions*

Killer: Horror did

Horror: you traitor-

*gets hit by a chappal or slipper*

Nightmare: now my dear babies, let's go for a picnic by using a helicopter

Cross: but we don't have one-

*sees Nightmare pulling down a helicopter from the sky using a rope (basically South Indian movie logic)*

Nightmare: let's go my dears

Ink belongs to @comyet

Swap Sans belongs to p0pcornpr1nce and Undertale AU community

Dream Sans belongs to @jokublog

Nightmare Sans belongs to @jokublog

Killer Sans belongs to @rahafwabas

Horror Sans belongs to @horrortalecomic

Cross Sans belongs to @jakei95

#dreamtale #undertale au #utmv #dream sans #nightmare sans #horror sans #murder time trio #dust sans #murder sans #bad sanses #dusttale #ink sans #star sanses #blue sans #swap sans #indian #Desi logic #Indian logic

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yeahtimesten · 23 days ago

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a wedding to remember pt 1 - p.z

fake dating au, wedding guests, patrick zweig x reader

patrick zweig is desperate to prove to his parents he can make a commitment to tennis, by using you to show his parents he can commit, period.

multi parts, warnings - lots of cussing

Art Donaldson, Tashi Duncan, Patrick Zweig, and you all sat together in the Stanford dining call, the girls next to each other and the boys across. They all dug into their meals, making small talk, until:

“So, I gotta head out for practice,” Tashi said, gathering her things onto her tray and rising off of the booth. “Maybe later you two can meet us at our dorm and we can watch a movie or something.” She smiled at the two boys, as she traced her fingers down your hair.

“I actually have to head to my study group right now,” Art followed suit. “I’ll see you guys later.” The two walked out of the cafeteria together and the two of you remained seated, finishing your meals.

“What are you up to after this,” Patrick asked you, sliding his body across the bench to be face to face. “Got any plans?”

Patrick and you, within the two years you’d known each other, had never really hung out alone together. Usually, at least Tashi or Art accompanied you whenever Patrick came to visit. He wasn’t sure if he could consider you a friend, he mostly knew you as Tashi’s roommate, an acquaintance at best. You were sweet, you listened to his stories and told him your own. Whenever he came over, you had snacks that you knew he liked ready. Patrick knew your preferred choice of souvenirs were keychains and shot glasses, and he brought you some every time he came to visit from touring. But, they weren’t by any means close the way that Art and Patrick or Tashi and you were.

So, when Patrick asked you what you were doing next, you felt a bit awkward. Did he want to hang out or was he just being polite? Did he want something?

“I was just going to go back to my dorm and study,” you said plainly, taking another bite of her sandwich.

“I’ll walk you back,” he offered, with a small smile.

The two of you wrapped up your meals and headed out of the dining hall.

“So, what are your plans for this summer,” Patrick asked, biting the skin around his nails. He looked down the whole time, hoping not to catch your eyes.

“Um, well, I was going to go back home and find a full time job, I guess. Just save up money for next semester,” you shrugged. “What about you? Continuing your tour?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve got a few trips planned for later in the season, more towards fall actually,” he sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “Actually, my sister is getting married in two weeks so after my match next week in Indian Wells, I’ll fly out there to attend.”

Your both approached your dorm and you invited in Patrick, who took a seat on your bed and you at your desk.

“Oh that sounds like fun, Patrick,” you smiled at him, before quickly clocking a face contorted and twisted with disagreement. “Or, no, not fun? I know you talk a lot of shit about your family and your parents but it can’t be that bad, can it?” He eyed the girl in front of him who was so naive and unaware of his dysfunctional family.

“You don’t understand, they’re fucking crazy,” Patrick sighed. He pulled his legs up to sit cross legged in your bed.

You started to flip through your notebook and set up to study. “Okay, well do you have a role in the wedding or something? Are you the best man or a groomsmen?”

He scoffed. “God, no.”

“Alright then, just go for the actual wedding,” you shrugged, not looking away from your notes. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be weird to bring Art along, then you could just pick up a bridesmaid and call it a day.”

“I already have a plus one,” he coughed, and started biting his nails yet again.

“Oh, who,” you inquired, still more focused on your papers.

A beat of silence. Patrick placed his hands in his lap and looked at you, with a deeper tone of seriousness. You turned his way and caught his face, still as a stone. He looked like he had just been carved from marble, he was so still.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your head cocked to the side. “Who?” You repeated, growing worried and confused.

Patrick swallowed hard, unsure how to go about his words. “You, I hope.”

Patrick had been acting weird all day, you had caught that. Someone who was normally loud, unfiltered, and extroverted was suddenly quiet, reserved, and seemingly anxious as soon as he had seen you this morning. You blinked rapidly, trying to process what he said.

“Me? What do you mean me?”

“I want to take you to my sister’s wedding,” Patrick said plainly, with newfound sturdiness. He sat back on his hands and continued to look at you, who had now turned your chair to face him.

“Okay, I get that,” you nodded. “But, why? What for?”

“Well, like you said, it sounds like fun,” Patrick lightly chuckled, eliciting a sigh from you.

“Patrick, be for real.” You leaned forward in your swivel chair. “Why me? Why not Art? Or Tashi, even?”

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Patrick regained his seriousness. “A huge favor.” You just looked at him with wide impatient eyes, your arms gesturing for him to continue. “I need you to come to this wedding with me… And pretend to date me.” He sighed as if he’d been holding his breath for a long time, the weight of the request off his shoulders at last.

But, your face just contorted in more confusion.

“What? What the fuck, Patrick?! What for?”

“It’s hard to explain-“

“Well, try!” Patrick opened his mouth again, but you cut him off. “I mean, I don’t see why you can’t ask Tashi. I’m not good at lying, and I’m not trying to say anything about Tashi, she’s my best friend, but she’d be much better at something like that than I am.”

“Tashi wouldn’t work, she wouldn’t sell it,” he muttered more to himself. “I don’t know why you, y/n. You are sweet and polite, but cutthroat when need be. You’re smart, determined, pretty. You tell all these stories about how great you are with your friend’s parents, selling them an illusion of safety for their children before taking them to parties or whatever the fuck, so you must be kind of good at lying.” What started off so sweet, turned accusatory, and you couldn’t brush past that.

“I never sold an illusion. We stayed safe and out of trouble, none of my friends ever got hurt or arrested, so I wasn’t lying,” you corrected. “Just to go to some house parties, by the way. Not like we were knocking down some liquor stores.”

“I recall a story you told us about you calling your friend’s strict mom posing as a teacher asking for consent for her son to stay late for an extra curricular event so you take him and your friends to a concert.”

“I didn’t say I was a teacher, I introduced myself as Ms. y/l/n, and that I wanted to him to participate in a concert as an extra curricular activity to enrich his knowledge in music. We were in choir together! I never lied,” she pointed at him. “But again, Tashi can lie and she’s all those other things you listed. Ask her, I’m sure Art wouldn’t mind, he loves your schemes even when he warns you against them.”

“I already said Tashi wouldn’t work,” Patrick grew exasperated. He knew there might be some pushback and didn’t think you would just say yes on a whim, even though that’s what he hoped. But he actually hadn’t planned out the conversation very well to convince you. “Listen, my parents aren’t big fans of me playing tennis. They want me to quit, or at least step back a bit for now, and give me a seat on their company board. They say I can’t take anything seriously and say I won’t amount to much and I’ll just end up a washed up athlete someday. Tashi is a tennis player and they know that and even though she is all of those things, it would just come off as biased. You could convince them that maybe tennis isn’t half bad and that I can take something seriously and commit and have children to pass on the family wealth and name. You can sell that in a way she can’t.”

Your stern look softened. You sympathized with him. No, you didn’t have the slightest clue of what it was like to have parents who didn’t support you, but you had plenty of friends who had similar experiences of wanting to go through with their dreams but were held back by unsupportive parents.

“So? Will you attend the wedding with me?” You stayed quiet, biting the inside of your cheek. “We’ll be there for a week, we’ll attend a few get togethers before the main event. We aren’t in the wedding party, we’re just guests. The food will be good, I’ll even take you into the city.” He was desperate, and he grabbed both of your arms. “Please?”

You looked up at him, deep into his pleading eyes. Your heart melted, feeling needed by him. It’s true, you’d had a crush on him for a long two years. It wasn’t painful or deep. You knew he was hot stuff, you loved the way he made you laugh, you loved the tidbits of undivided attention he’d give you when you told a story. You were looking for any excuse to say no.

“I’m not good at lying,” you reinforced.

“You don’t have to be, you can be yourself. Holding hands occasionally isn’t a lie. My parents will appreciate the lack of PDA otherwise. And they might try to get to know you, surface level stuff, but they won’t drill you. They stopped asking so many questions when they asked a girl I brought over how it was like growing up in the plains of Montana and she got offended because she thought they called her state ugly and boring.” You both shared a giggle in what was before such a serious conversation, which made Patrick feel all the more comfortable. “She got so worked up and said ‘Montana may not seem like much, but it’s far from plain. It’s my home and it’s beautiful.’” He did a poor impression of the girl, eliciting more laughter from you.

“Poor girl,” you joked. “But, honestly Patrick, I can’t afford a plane ticket. And I know it’s just a week, but I was hoping to get a summer job as soon as possible to save as much as I can. I don’t even have a dress to wear to a wedding.” You hated admitting that, even though it was true. It wasn’t an excuse, it was a valid reason. You didn’t want to say no. Even though Patrick’s parents sounded like a pain in the ass, it did sound fun to prance around a mansion for a week.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to pay,” Patrick laughed. “It’s my treat, the whole week. Any expense, I’ll take care of. You can even go dress shopping on my dime. I know this is a lot to ask of you, I’ll make sure that you’re compensated.”

“God, Patrick, if you insist,” you teased. “I won’t hear you beg any longer.”

He scooped you into a big hug. “Thank you, y/n, seriously.” He gave you a peck on the cheek, causing you to blush.

once i had a love - blondie

Finals were over, closing up another year of college. Tashi and you stood in the shared dorm, packing away bags for summer break.

“So, you’re going to pretend to be Patrick’s girlfriend for a week,” Tashi stated, but it was also a question.

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged.

Neither of you were facing each other. Both of your luggage was stacked on beds on opposite sides of the room.

“I just don’t understand why.”

“I don’t either. He said I’ll impress his parents and I guess make them more accepting of him playing tennis? I don’t know…”

“No I mean, I don’t understand why you said yes.” You continued folding clothes and cramming your suitcases.

“Because he asked, I guess? It’s not like I had anything better planned, to be honest.”

“You’re too nice, y/n,” Tashi sighed. “And Patrick is a pussy. If he really loved tennis, he’d take it more seriously and he wouldn’t care what his parents think, he’d just go for it.”

“I don’t know, Tashi,” you sighed back, with a tinge of attitude. “But, I already obliged and he already bought the ticket, so… Too late now, I guess.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Are you mad at me?” Tashi finally turned towards you. “I’m not talking shit, I’m just being honest. I’m just saying, maybe if he put in an effort and didn’t glide by on talent alone, maybe his parents would take him seriously and support him.”

You stopped mid shirt fold to meet Tashi’s face. “No, Tashi, I’m not mad. I get it. I’ve heard you and Art talk to him about getting a higher education, applying to go here and be guided by an actual coach and trainers. I don’t know anything about tennis but, I agree. And I don’t know what me being there will do to actually help. But like I said, I have nothing better to do… And honestly? I’m excited to see his house. I’ve never been inside a mansion before, or even to an actual wedding, besides when I was a little kid and I was the flower girl.”

“Ha, I bet you were such a cute flower girl,” Tashi said, shaking her head. By now, the two of you had resumed packing. “Hey, remember those photos I showed you from the party Adidas threw me after I won the junior open?”

“Yeah?” Tashi turned her head to look at you.

“Patrick’s house is bigger than that,” Tashi nodded, as you turned her head, jaw dropped.

“No fuckin’ way,” you scoffed. “That place looked huge. Even bigger than that?”

“That’s what Art told me.”

“What’s up with you and Art anyways? Like, what’s the move between you two?”

“Well, I’m not initiating the ‘what are we’ conversation. Nuh, uh. We’ve been fucking around, and I know he likes me, and I think I’ve made it apparent that I like him back. He’s just taking his sweet ass time making it official,” Tashi explained. “Like we are basically together, but I don’t run off assumptions. I like labels, sooo. I don’t wanna say I’ll drop him but I don’t want to wait around forever, you know. I deserve more than a nonchalant boyfriend thing.”

“Art is not nonchalant,” you laughed. “He’s so obsessed with you, he’s just shy. Maybe he’s trying to wait for the right time.”

“There is no time like the present,” Tashi said. “Well, I don’t think we’ll see each other all summer… So, we’ll see.”

a/n - praying to gawd that i actually keep up with this. reminder you don’t have to listen to any song i link or even canonize any outfits i may link, tbh. i do it for self indulgence

divider by @/chachachannah

#challengers fic #challengers fanfiction #patrick zweig drabble #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig blurb #patrick zweig headcanon #patrick zweig fanfiction #patrick zweig fic #patrick zweig fanfic

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