#eternal love pillow book fanfiction

[mcheang]

I absolutely loved the stuff you wrote for eternal love of dream. I’ve read all of them so many times. You have a ways with word❤️ I keep checking back in here to see if you have written anything new, but I guess I might be busy or lost interest for ELOD? if it possible for you to write few more stuff for eternal love of dream. I would really appreciate it.

Currently, I am watching Who Rules The World. As such, my imagination is on that series, not ELOD. Still, maybe I can think of a Mooncake prompt. After all, I am pretty sure DJ wants FJ to bake him a mooncake. this story was written on the spot.

Mooncake Mystery

Feng Jiu pulls out a tray of 4 steaming mooncakes.

Dong Hua and Gun Gun are standing close by, inhaling the fragrance, their mouths watering.

Feng Jiu happily packs the mooncakes to deliver to her family and friends, ignoring how Dong Hua’s fingers twitch jealousy.

Now it is time for the family to share a mooncake.

Feng Jiu cuts the cake into 4 quarters. She immediately takes 2.

Dong Hua allows this and Gun Gun is resigned to this unfair distribution, both clutching their small quarter.

At night, as Dong Hua and Feng Jiu kiss, Feng Jiu is surprised that Dong Hua’s mouth tastes like mooncakes. “Did we receive mooncakes from anyone today?”

Dong Hua: no, but your mooncake has a really strong taste to linger so.

Feng Jiu was shocked, and somewhat proud.

Meanwhile, at Bai Qian’s palace, Bai Qian and Ali were holding an inquiry to see who stole their mooncakes.

Elsewhere in the heavenly sky, Cheng Yu was accusing Lian Song for stealing her mooncake just so he can offer his.

At Qingqiu, the Bai family was wondering what was taking Feng Jiu so long to send her mooncakes.

At the peach orchard, Zhe Yan sighed when he beheld the empty box. “Such a jealous and greedy son-in-law Qingqiu has.”

#eternal love of dream fic #eternal love of dream fanfic #eternal love of dream fanfiction #eternal love pillow book #三生三世枕上书

[soleired]

Wind’s embrace (Angst One-shot)

Content: venti x y/n (gender neutral)  Warning: angst with no comfort, infidelity, mentions of alcohol. Note: This is my first time writing fanfiction, so any suggestions are more than welcome.

As long as you could remember you’ve always found comfort in the wind. A gentle caress on the cheek, a cool salvation in the summer, and a warning bearer before the impending storm. It was your eternal companion, leaping with your heart as you gazed at your lover on that midsummer field. And just like the wind he sang to you. His bright voice relays sonnets of centuries lost, of prevailing myths, and eternal love. His love. So attuned to his words, you didn’t notice the melody growing scarce.

This evening was drenched in melancholy familiarity, no different from the night before. Sitting in the nest of pillows, you hungrily welcomed the warmth from the fireplace. Little ambers dancing by you to tear your attention from the book on your lap. It wasn’t a difficult endeavour, your mind had been elsewhere for some time now.

“Probably at Angel’s Share.” You pondered your lover’s whereabouts.

At the start of your relationship, you expressed to Venti that despite your companionship you would not take away his freedom. He wasn’t a stranger to travels and you were no stranger to lonely nights, but he always came back. At least he did.

It’s been 2 weeks since he vanished without a word, slipping from your shared bed into the night. Your anticipation had long melted to worry, and that worry to rage.

Your musing was interrupted by a creak from the window, cold air rushing in, aggravating the fire beside you.

“Ven?” You whispered.

“It’s me.” He replied after pausing for a second. “I’ve been gone for a while ehe, sorry about that y/n”

Countless thoughts raced through your head. ‘Where have you been?’, ‘Why didn’t you contact me?’, ‘Are you hurt?’. But they all came to a halt when you saw his eyes. His gorgeous, anguished eyes.

Stumbling over the pillows, you inched closer. “You’re sober. Who are you and what did you do to Venti?” You half jested. Seeking answers on his face while simultaneously attempting to lighten the mood. He didn’t move an inch. Avoiding your eyes like the plague.

The anguish that had built up was resurfacing anew. You clenched your jaw, taking longer strides to reach him. Before you could utter another question, he carefully spoke.

“Y/n I..I have a confession to make. Please believe me when I say that this isn’t your fault.”

Your mind went silent and so did the world.

“Do you remember, a few weeks ago, I went out to try the Angel’s Share new wine speciality? Well, let’s just say it was much stronger than I anticipated and….”

“Go on.” You urged, feeling your patience slipping out of your grasp.

“And I lost my sense of judgment, and uh, as a result…I ..broke your trust..”

No.

No no no.

Please no.

“Y/N I’m so sorry. Please, I didn’t mean to go with her, but I couldn’t think straight in my drunken state. She didn’t mean anything to me, I swear!” He started pleading, your silence only raising the urgency in his voice.

“It took you 2 weeks to tell me this..” You uttered to yourself.

“I didn’t know how to face you.” He stepped closer, trying to take your hand as you rejected all advancements.

“Why did you...But… I trusted you!” Tears began obscuring your vision. “Every time you left, I waited! I waited and trusted you and you did this?” You grimaced further, hating how your voice broke. “Did I do something wrong? Were you bored of me?” You didn’t relent, interrupting his rebuttals after a second of consideration. “Aren’t you a God? Do Gods even get drunk?”

His silence was all the answers you needed.

“Leave.” You stated.

“Y/N please, I can’t fix this, we can work through this, I’m truly sorry, I am! I-”

“Leave my home, and don’t come back” You stated louder, fearing that your resolve would crumble if he stayed a moment longer. And so, after a pause, he left. Leaving the living room window ajar as you saw him for the last time.

The wind has never felt so hollow before.

#venti x y/n #venti genshin impact #venti angst #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin oneshots #genshin impact fic #genshin impact fandom #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #barbatos angst

[shaddowsong]

I did a thing. I’m nervous that I did the thing. Please don’t hate that I did the thing.

What is the thing? Patreon

Join, don’t join, support me, or support other amazing artists and writers. Or don’t. Go buy your favorite drink and pay that medical bill instead. Rest assured, I’m going to keep writing and drawing. And if you like it, favorite it or leave a comment or review. Feel free to hit up my ask box, too.

What’s going to be in my Patreon that won’t be on here?

Early access to chapters, more pet pictures, more insight into my creative process. Exclusive looks at rough drafts and sketches. Awesome titles including Faberry Fanatic, Serpent Supporter, and Acolyte of Athena. Opportunities to help me churn out extra chapters for your favorite fanfic. Fics of your choice are available ranging from 300 to 10k words. Drawings range from 30 minute sketches to full body art. Each tier comes with my eternal gratitude, but you already get that here. Also polls. Who doesn’t love polls?

Am I being greedy? I don’t think so. Why can’t I get a little help doing something I love? I mean, I’ve had my cheap chrome book for 5 years. It has stopped updating. It dies at random times. I’m on my third power cord. May God help us all when it dies and I have to henpeck on my tablet to write. Also, my assistant demands a small paycheck every month or else she’ll sneeze in my mouth, lick my pillow all night, and the bees in her chest will come alive.

Where else can you find me besides Patreon?

Here, of course, as well as ao3

And Fanfiction

#shaddowsong writes #shaddowsong art #patreon

[worldoffanfiction2021]

Eternal Love of Dream - Chapter Next 1

"Gungun, I am your father!", Dijiun said with an unmistakable tremble in his voice.

It was Gungun's turn to be surprised. Based on what Mother had told him,  he did not have a father. She had explained that since they were immortals, it was possible for a child to not have one. But this handsome looking uncle said he was Gungun's father!

Surprise, then confusion slowly gave rise to the realization that as long as this uncle was willing to be his father, he would be very happy. No more weird looks from his friends in the mortal realm, no more jeering questions.

And may be, just may be, this person would be willing to help his Mother too. Gungun worried about his Mother. She was all alone with no relatives in the mortal realm and had to manage everything by herself. He had seen his Mother tired, stressed, many times even fighting with a sword and getting injured. But still always smiling a brave, loving smile for Gungun. Since this person was sitting next to Gungun's mother's bed, trying to feed her medicine, may be he did care about Gungun's Mother. So, all in all, it was a happy thing to have found a father.

"Father!", Gungun said, with a smile lighting up his face and tried to wrap his tiny arms around his father in a tight hug.

Dijun pulled Gungun close in his arms and planted a kiss on his forehead. Then he hugged him some more. And planted some more kisses. The ring on Xiaobai's finger, which was made from Dijun's heart, glowed. It almost felt like Xiaobai stirred. But when Dijun looked at her, she was laying as still as before.

After the initial shock wore off, Dijun lifted his head above Gungun's silver hair. He held the boy at arms length, still keeping him close, still holding hands. Slowly he asked, "Gungun, where have you been? How did you come here today?". Gungun replied, "I have always lived with Mother in the mortal realm. At least that's what Mother calls it. It was Uncle Xie who brought me here today. He told me Mother was injured and that I had to be responsible."

“How did you meet Uncle Xie?”, Dijun asked a little bit perplexed.

“Some time ago, Mother took me to a place called the Nether world. She helped another uncle wake up and then had to leave for Sky kingdom. She promised me she would be back soon and asked me to be a good boy and stay with Uncle Xie.”, Gungun replied.

Looking at his Mother Gungun continued, “Father, when will Mother wake up? She never sleeps for so long. Can I stay with her? I don’t want her to sleep alone. She always kicks the sheets at night, feels cold and starts to whimper. I often wake up from the noise and pull the sheets up on her. When I am not with her, she might feel cold at night. So I want to stay with her.”

Dijun smiled a weak smile and said, “So she has not changed. I promise you, Gungun, I will not let her feel cold. I will stay by her side and take care of her myself. Don’t worry, ok?”

Gungun felt relieved. He lifted his little pinky and made his father promise properly. He was satisfied then.

[Picture source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/428827195773027503/]

———-

#three lives three worlds the pillow book #eternal love of dream #pillow book #bai feng jiu #dong hua #donghua dijun #xiao bai #bai gun gun #cdrama #fanfiction

[irisflammea]

Pillow Book headcannon:

Dong Hua decides invite Su Moye and Ye Qingti for a meal to thank them for their role in his fate with Xiao Bai.

Su Moye for getting in between Chen Ye and Aranya's fate/destiny.

Ye Qingti for sneaking out of Taichen Palace to tell Feng Jiu about being Dong Hua's successor, alarming her of his possible death.

Dong Hua serves them his sweet and sour fish. Su Moye politely refuses and tells him that seeing Feng Jiu happy is enough. Qingti doesn't know any better and eats the fish then proceeds to regret ever being reincarnated as an immortal.

#love qingti tho #hes such a cinammon roll #eternal love of dream #three lives three worlds the pillow book #three lives three worlds #pillow book headcannon #dong hua dijun #donghua #dong+hua+di+jun #Ye Qingti #Su Moye #eternal love of dream fanfiction

[ashesforfoxes]

My first new fic in awhile, for a fandom that’s criminally underloved. Enjoy.

#three lives three worlds the pillow book #bai feng jiu #donghua #eternal love of dream #fanfiction #modern au #this is so dumb #i hope you like this

[bemusedlybespectacled]

~hot take~ about a book that came out ten years ago but one of the biggest reasons 50 Shades of Grey fails as a fanfiction - not as a piece of writing, but as fanfiction specifically - is because it fundamentally misunderstands the central conflict throughout the Twilight novels and as a result makes Anastasia and Christian’s relationship even more incomprehensible and unhealthy than Bella and Edward’s. that conflict NOT being the Volturi or anything to do with other vampires, but the fact that Bella wants to be a vampire and Edward doesn’t want her to be a vampire. 

like, Bella doesn’t want to grow old, she’s been parentified by her parents, and she feels boring and ordinary, so eternal youth + superpowers seems pretty fucking cool to her. meanwhile Edward hates being a vampire and sees it as a burden, especially since part of being a vampire is the constant threat of accidentally injuring or killing his girlfriend. the tension is the push and pull between what Bella wants and what Edward wants, and it’s only resolved when she does actually become a vampire.

so if we assume that BDSM is the vampirism metaphor in the 50 Shades fics (namely, something dangerous but also sexy and alluring), then Anastasia should be completely gung-ho about the kinky shit and Christian should be wracked with guilt every time he even considers spanking someone. finding out Christian is kinky should make Ana realize that whatever feelings she’s had before has a NAME and OTHER PEOPLE and is NORMAL and that her secret kinky fantasies are validated, while Christian should be crying into his pillow at the idea that he’s corrupted poor innocent Ana with his perverted ways. 

what I’m saying here is that it not only makes the storyline way creepier, because BDSM - and a relationship with Christian, since the story explicitly says you can’t have one without the other - is something that Ana is afraid of instead of excited about, but also makes it WAY more boring. oh ho hum, “a sexy millionaire overcame my protests and had his sexy sexy way with me!” said every fucking Harlequin novel ever. groundbreaking.

tl;dr: the plot of 50 Shades should be “Ana discovers Fetlife on bing.com and they go back and forth on their kinky needs v. Christian’s guilt at potentially hurting his love until they split the difference and have Ana top”

#personal #50 shades of grey #jinkies #meta #twilight #hall of fame

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter 3 Part 2 + Epilogue (A Helmut Zemo x Reader Fanfiction)

(Thank you to everyone who has joined me on this unexpected journey. If you’d like to start from the beginning, you can find Chapter One HERE)

Synopsis: At the end of the day, Helmut and his wife fall back together as they always do, and rediscover their intimacy in the wake of their past arguments with no more games left to play. 

Tags: Smut, Fingering, Kisses, Neck Kisses, Married Sex, Soft Sex, The Morning After, Fluff, Banter, Excessive References To Old Literature, Wuthering Heights

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Swearing, Mentions of Alcoholism/Alcohol Withdrawals

Word Count: 10,500~

This work has been crossposted to my AO3!

------

The two of you stayed there for a moment, your heart alight with an almost childlike wonder as you relished in the pure bliss of your husband’s hand holding your own. It was as familiar as your own name and yet so new, so different than it had been before. Had he ever held your hand this tenderly? Or looked at you with such adoration? You couldn’t say for certain. Definitely not while you were so distracted by the romance of it all.

Still, all good things must come to an end, and after what could have been an eternity or a moment Helmut pressed one more kiss to your hand before lowering it back to the bed.

“Your trembling has stopped,” he muttered, more to himself than you, “that’s good. Are you still in pain? You could still take one more naproxen if you think it would be helpful,”

You shook your head. “No thank you. I think I’ll be fine for now,” Slowly, you stretched up, your joints cracking loudly as you yawned. Across the room, the clock on the wall ticked silently past 8 o’clock. Could it really be that late?

Helmut seemed amused by your little movements and mental musings. With a sweet smile, he leaned back in his chair. “Tired already?” He teased, but there was no fire in it. You didn’t have anything in you to make a funny quip with, so you opted for simply giving an honest nod. That was enough for him. He dimmed the bedside lamp a bit and picked up his novel once again before he spoke. “You can rest now, Schatz. I’ll be here if you need me,”

Then, nonchalant as can be, he opened up his book and started reading again.

It was a bit… strange, the idea of falling asleep while being watched, even if it was just by your husband. You settled into the sheets, but the thought of it irked you enough that you had to roll onto your side in the hopes that once he was out of sight you’d forget about him being there. It didn’t work. Then, you rolled onto your back thinking if you just closed your eyes, sleep would come eventually. That didn’t work either. You were quickly sat face to face with a conundrum: You couldn’t sleep.

Not in your current situation at least.

As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut peered to you from above the pages of his book. “Are you reconsidering my offer for pain medication?” He asked.

You groaned. “No, I just can’t sleep. It’s weird being watched,”

Helmut watched over you with kind eyes. He didn’t set down his book as he watched you toss and turn until you finally rolled onto your side to face him, but he did tilt his head slightly as he studied your face. Once he was sure you weren’t in any pain, he gave a curt nod. There was something almost awkward and adolescent about the expression that crossed his face as he spoke.

“Are you… I’m sorry, would you rather I leave?”

The thought of being alone, even if it meant not being watched, made your stomach drop. You had spent so long wanting to fall asleep with Helmut at your side once again. To have him leave now, after everything you’d worked through? It felt like a massive step backward in comparison to all of the progress you’d made. That being said, him sitting at the edge of your bed like some sort of visitor at a hospital bed wasn’t what you wanted either.

No, you wanted him closer.

Needed him closer.

The only problem was that you had absolutely no idea of how to ask for what you wanted. It had always been so simple before. Ever since you had broken him out of the raft you had fallen into bed together exhausted every night with very few exceptions. There was no asking about it, you just did because that was what a married couple would do. That wasn’t even mentioning the nights you’d fall together after the throes of passion onto the nearest soft surface, fully satisfied and boneless and exhausted, but you didn’t want to think about those times. They brought a flush to your face and other places long neglected. You pushed the feeling down. It wouldn’t get you anywhere to be thinking of things like that in your current situation.

Back to the problem at hand, you started to think about if there was a possible, non-awkward way to ask Helmut to lay with you.

After a minute you became acutely aware that there wasn’t.

He was still waiting for an answer though, dark eyes watching you with an intent care and fascination as you struggled to sort through your thoughts, ever patient and careful with you. From your position on your side you had to tilt your head up slightly to see him fully upright in the lamplight but it didn’t matter much. He was still stunning, even sideways. Slowly, you took a deep breath. “I want you to stay, it’s just a little weird to have you watching over me like that,”

The words were soft and delicate in the moonlight. Helmut, thankfully, took them at face value and nothing more. He was still wearing that same strange expression from before, awkward but not painfully so, as his eyes flitted around the dark room. “You… last night and the night before you woke up a lot, inconsolable and vomiting. I didn’t want you to choke or make too much of a mess, so it was easier to sit up and watch you, just in case,”

“Oh,” Your soft lips parted as your heart fluttered, “I’m sorry, I guess? And thank you? I don’t know quite what the right response to that is,”

“There’s no need to apologize, it’s nothing, and I don’t need thanks either. I’m not doing anything any other decent husband wouldn’t do,”

“Well, you’re only halfway decent, so I’d consider this a win,”

Helmut laughed then, something low and throaty that made your chest feel fuzzy and heavy with warmth. “Touché, Schatzi. Now try to sleep? You need your rest,”

You obliged him once again, letting your head hit the pillow. Your eyes remained open, though, as you admired his features in the darkness. He hadn’t shaved properly in a few days and it was obvious from the dark stubble forming on his cheeks and chin, but you didn’t mind it. In fact, you found it incredibly endearing. His turtleneck looked thick and soft as it hugged every plane of his soft chest.  Even his face, furrowed in slight concentration as he found his sentence once again and began to read, looked sweet in the lamplight, framed by unkempt locks of his chestnut hair that had fallen out of their usually precariously kempt style. He looked like an angel there, illuminated from the side while his eyes flitted back and forth down the page.

Part of you yearned to reach out and touch him, because at that moment he seemed far too beautiful and idealized to be real.

After a moment, though, his eyes met yours again. You spoke before he had a chance to offer pain medication a third time.

“What are you reading?”

He regarded you with a practiced gentleness. This was a game all its own that you were both intimately familiar with, and it was much more fun than the ones you usually found yourselves playing. Helmut loved his books, but he never read one without reason. You were curious to see what he found appropriate for the occasion.

“Wuthering Heights,”

A small grin spread across your face as heat rushed to your cheeks. “Really? How morbid,”

“If you think this is morbid, you should have seen me last night,” he chuckled, “I was still neck-deep in Anna Karenina until the early hours of the morning. It did nothing for my nerves,” Somehow, his accent seemed thicker as he rolled the title gently on his tongue. If you closed your eyes, you could see the scene in your mind; Helmut watching you intently in the darkness as you shook, his eyes flitting back nervously to the words on the page before darting back to you again as he read of love and infidelity and death… it was almost too much to bear in the best of ways.

“What will you read next?”

Helmut paused, but his decision came quick. “Pride and Prejudice, I think,”

“How fitting,” you hummed, “I like Pride and Prejudice,”

“As do I, Schatz. As do I,”

The two of you sat with that silently for a moment as you took in a deep breath of cool nighttime air. Outside, you could hear the soft sound of distant passing cars in the darkness, but that did little to soothe the thoughts now racing through your head and making your heart beat faster. Suddenly, and without deliberation, you acted with your heart alone and not your mind.

“Helmut?” you called softly into the darkness.

He lifted his eyes from his book without a hint of annoyance at your repeated interruptions. “Yes?”

Suddenly, your throat felt very tight. “Do you remember the last night we spent in Berlin?”

“Of course I do,” he hummed, but he offered you nothing more to work with. Trembling slightly from the effort, you tried again.

“You read to me that night and it helped with the nightmares. Do you think…” your voice petered off, but came back stronger when you steadied yourself again, grounding yourself in the warmth of Helmut’s eyes, “do you think you could read to me again?”

The smile he offered you was brilliant and kind.

“I would like nothing more,”

With a bit of adjusting, Helmut scooted to the front of his chair so that his knees brushed the edge of the bed. You stared spellbound up at him. If you reached out, just the smallest bit,  you would be able to rest a hand on the warmth of his leg and relish in the feeling of his soft dress pants. Still, it wouldn’t be enough. You needed to be even closer, surrounded by him, entirely engulfed by the warmth and strength and scent of him.

“Do you believe such people are happy in the other world sir?” Helmut began, reading aloud in a voice reserved for you and you alone in these incredibly rare moments, “I’d give great deal to-”

“No,”

Helmut looked up from the novel with a soft ‘hm’ of confusion.

“I-'' you stuttered, “I want you to lay with me while you read, like you did back then,” His eyes lit up and his cheeks flushed as you floundered for some sort of excuse or placation that would explain your sudden boldness. “You don’t have to! I just… I thought it might be nice. If it’s not, that’s more than okay, I didn't mean to upset you. I guess what I’m trying to-”

“Shhh, Schatz. You’re okay,”

At the sound of Helmut’s soft reassurance, your heart slowed down a bit from its jackhammer rhythm against your chest. What? He was… agreeing? Slowly, he stood from his chair and rounded the bed before sitting on the opposite edge. You had to roll over to watch him go, but when he finally sat you reached a hand out to him, which he took into his own without a hint of hesitation.

“It’s not good to work yourself up like this,” he cooed as he toed off his shoes and socks, moving them away with his free hand. “I’m still your husband, just as you are still my wife. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be held,” Your cheeks burned with shame, but somehow you didn’t feel like he was chiding you. He slipped below the sheets then, resting his back on the headboard and beckoning you forward to rest on him. You were scrambling towards his warmth before he had to say another word.

Then, you were finally safe.

There, with your cheek pressed flush against his chest and your arms wrapped tight around his middle, you breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed for the first time in… well, since you could remember really. He chuckled, but you didn’t notice. No, you were far too busy enjoying your newfound warmth. Your limbs were trembling a bit again, but not from your withdrawals. Instead, you seemed to have so much love running through your veins that you just couldn’t manage to keep still. Slowly, you swung your bare leg over Helmut’s clothed one before interlocking them to ensure your closeness.

Helmut smiled down at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead as he smoothed down your hair with one hand and re-opened his book with the other. “Now where were we? Ah, yes. Here we are. Do you believe such people are happy in the other world, sir? I’d give a great deal to know,”

You tuned out his words quickly, instead opting to focus on the timbre and lilt of his tone as he made his way down the page. There was a lightness to it, an honesty that came with reading words that came from another’s mind and not his own. There was no room for bartering when he read, no way to twist the sentiments of the author into his own narrative. Instead, he spoke plainly and often from the heart. You liked to think that was why he spent so much time choosing the books he read. They were, for him, a beacon of clean, clear-cut honesty to cling to even as his brain fought to deceive himself and everyone around him.

As he continued, though, you did notice something strange.

Your husband, especially when focused on a task like reading, wasn’t one to let his mind wander. If he wanted to do something he would simply do it without hesitation. Needless to say, it was also very difficult to distract him once he got fully invested in something. That being said, as he turned the page and continued to speak, his voice seemed to be losing its focused intensity by the second. He also was squirming. Well, no, squirming wasn’t quite the word for it, but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable below you. It was clearly not the weight of your body that bothered him though, nor was it the temperature of the room. Only when you shifted your leg up slightly and heard his breath hitch roughly in his throat did you notice the growing hardness in his pants.

Oh.

Oh.

There was something almost giddy about knowing that you could still affect him the same way you always had, even while half delirious with sleep and suffering through one malady or another, and while a small part of you grew nervous at the thought of reuniting with Helmut like that for the first time since your initial argument all those months ago, on the whole, every nerve in your body was longing to feel him against you again. You smiled softly at the discovery. Some things truly never changed.

As you determined the best way to go about initiating something, you tuned back into his words again. His voice was still sweet and low with his heavenly accent cutting through the old language in a way that made butterflies erupt from your stomach down towards your newly aching core, and yet there was an inconsistency to it.

“She lies with a sweet smile on her face,” he muttered, breath hitching slightly once again as he blinked, long and hard in the darkness, “and her latest ideas wandered back to pleasant early days. Her life closed in a gentle dream - may she wake as kindly in the other world,” As he finished his sentence he looked down from the page to you, prone against the broadness of his chest. His pupils were blown wide with lust in the yellow lamplight and, after a moment struck mute, he licked his lips. “Schatz-,”

“Don’t stop now,” you breathed into the darkness, “we’ve only just gotten to the best part,” Slowly you rose from your place slotted against him. The loss of contact was difficult for you both, but you quickly amended the issue by placing a hand flat against his upper thigh. It was so close to his growing length and yet so far away at the same time.

Helmut regarded the digits with a sure disbelief and mild amusement. “Don’t stop what?”

“Reading,”

Somehow the word sounded obscene as it dripped syrupy and saccharin from your lips. You leaned in closer now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off your husband’s body as his gaze flickered down to your mouth. Despite your words, though, Helmut was quick to mark his page and reach to set the book down on the dresser beside his side of the bed.

“Do you want me?” he gulped, letting himself brush his fingertips ever so lightly against the bottom hem of your sleep shorts. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, after everything,”

You replied with a question of your own:

“Do I look like I don’t want you?”

He was quick to shake his head. It was his turn now to steady himself. “I’ve yearned for you every day since I left,” he whispered, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips from the proximity alone, “I never should have gone, Schatzchen. Not then and not before. To be without you is torture. I’ve wasted so much precious time...”

You replied with a simple, breathless, “Kiss me,”

Who would he be to deny you?

With the slightest of smiles, he leaned in and captured your lips with his own.

You had kissed him hundreds, probably thousands of times and yet you never got over the feel of his mouth against your own. Hot and wet and always ever so slightly minty from the small, sweet lozenges he kept in his right breast pocket, it laid claim to you. When you kissed him, there was nothing except him and him and him for eternity. You never considered yourself much of a wordsmith, your talents were elsewhere, and yet you could write sonnets about the bliss that came only when you connected in these brief, close moments of peace.

There were no threats here, not now. There was only Helmut, with his dark eyes and wild hair pulling away from you just long enough to breathe in the darkness of the room before dragging you back in to kiss him again.

Time had no bearing on you then. You could have been sitting there and kissing him for hours, your soft hands gently exploring each other once again but never daring to touch where the other wanted to be touched more than anything. Eventually, though, Helmut pulled away for a meaningful period of time, letting his forehead rest gently against your own as you both breathed heavily, hands finding each other blindly to clasp together in your lap.

When you felt like you were finally grounded to your body again, you chuckled softly, paying careful attention to the way the dim light accentuated the soft blondes and reds hidden in your husband’s brown hair.

“What is it?” he cooed in the darkness, “What could you possibly be laughing at now,”

“I thought I asked you to keep reading, Baron. You stopped at my favorite part. How am I supposed to focus on this when all I’ll be able to focus on is that once we’re done, I’ll finally get to hear what Heathcliff has to say,”

Helmut didn’t respond to your gentle ribbing, not at first. Instead, he leaned back in for one last fleeting kiss before letting his hands rest at the bottom edge of your sweater, bunching up the excess fabric. You assisted him in removing it by pulling your arms from the sleeves as he lifted it over your head. Then, you were finally semi-bare before him.

The cool, dark, nighttime air felt frigid in comparison to the almost burning heat of Helmut’s hands as he ran them down your sides. It made you shiver. That being said, it was nothing in comparison to the full-body tremble he evoked a moment later when he leaned in close to your ear with a sinful smile.

“May she wake in torment,” he quoted softly. The sound of it, so lewd and yet so refined, only added to the wetness between your legs. It didn’t help that his hands had moved on to find purchase on your breasts. He took a nipple between his fingers, rolling it ever just so as he continued. “Why she’s a liar to the end,”

Distantly, you just barely had enough complex thought to marvel at the fact that your husband had memorized your favorite passage from Wuthering Heights. It didn’t surprise you in the least. The last thing that crossed your mind before it clouded fully with lust was that there was something so tender in Helmut’s eyes when he looked at you that you just couldn’t bear it. It wasn’t long after that, though, that Helmut let one of his hands creep under the elastic waist of your shorts to cup your mound and you lost all ability to think about anything other than his soft voice and the feeling of his hands on your skin.

He touched you as if he knew you, and he did. You had known him carnally in more ways than could be counted. Though a bit rough with time, his fingers fell easily into their usual rhythm as muscle memory took over. He relished in dragging you to the edge in a way only he knew how to, and for the first time in months, you let him.

“Where is she? Not there,” he purred against your cheek as his fingers caught just so against your nub. You arched into his touch without a thought. “Not in heaven,” Slowly, his mouth departed from your face. He trailed wet kisses down the sensitive column of your throat, and yet he never broke from his steady rhythm of stroking down your wetness before letting his fingers come back up to circle your clit.

“Not perished,” As Helmut paused, he sucked a deep purple bruise into the soft nook where your neck met your chin, “Where?”

It had been so long. So long since you’d been with him, since you’d touched yourself. You could do little more than cling to him and gasp his name as he played you like a well-tuned fiddle.

He delighted in the feeling of your fingers in his hair, yanking at the nape of his neck and urging him lower and lower as he continued to bring you towards completion. In all honesty, he was smitten with you, and anyone who saw him as he was in that moment, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at just the sight of your pleasure, would know it. Still, his devotion was lost on you, especially in your current position.

That was fine by Helmut.

As long as you were happy, he would be too.

“Oh! You said you cared nothing for my sufferings!”

“Helmut!” You gasped low and sweet and right as he nipped at your collarbone.

The grin that you found when you met his eyes again didn’t do anything to help you put your mind back together, nor did it prepare you for two of his thick fingers to suddenly breach your sopping wet entrance.  He paused then, searching your face for any signs of discomfort or hesitance, but he was only greeted by pure and utter bliss on your end.

Good. That was his goal.

With a soft tug to his hair, he was off to the races again.

“And I pray one prayer,” His mouth was on your breast now. Your hips canted and bucked to meet the quickening thrusts of his digits, which were curled ever so slightly and dragged at that rough right spot inside you with every push and pull. “I repeat it till my tongue stiffens,”

Then, suddenly, his eyes found yours again, and you felt you might perish then and there from the pure ecstasy of it.

“Y/N L/N, may you not rest as long as I am living!”

His fingers dragged across your sweet spot once again.

“Helmut, darling-”

Your voice was a stunted wail against his quiet, sure tone.

“You said I killed you - haunt me, then!”

His mouth was on your peaked nipple, your throat, your collarbone.

“Darling I’m so close-”

“The murdered do haunt their murderers,”

You were climbing, soaring, flying.

Higher, higher, higher…

“I believe,” he faltered for a moment. It was all too raw, all too real. God, how you loved him. “I know that ghosts have wandered on earth,”

You were up on your knees now, and Helmut had followed you up. He held the weight of your body on his clothed chest as he added a third finger. If you thought you had reached the heights of pleasure before, you had broken all the way through the ceiling, up through the sky, and into heaven now. Words dissolved on your tongue as spittle dripped warm from your open mouth down to the messy sheets below.

Suddenly, though, in the heat of it all, there was a tenderness.

The hand that had come to wander your body and assist Helmut’s mouth when it was preoccupied came to cup the back of your head and hold your gaze to him, keep you a captive audience to the way he looked at you; full of lust and love and adoration of the basest most human kind.

“Be with me always,” he urged, and the words were his . There was no more Heathcliff in them than there was Brontë or Austen or Tolstoy. “Take any form,” Tears, big and fat and wet dripped down your cheeks at the sight of it. This was your husband. Husband . Oh, the wonder of such a little word! How had you gotten so lucky? You feared you’d never know. All you truly knew was the sound of his voice as he drove his fingers into you with a mad fervor. “Drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

Finally, your words seemed to return as you soared to your completion.

“Always!”

It was a wail. A cry in the dark. A promise.

“Oh, God!”

“Oh, God! It is unutterable!”

Just two more lines.

“Helmut, please,”

Something inside of you was breaking by the second as you clung to him.

“I cannot live without my life!”

“Yes, yes, yes-”

“I cannot live without my soul!”  

He crooked his fingers just so.

You snapped at the finality of it all.

Wordlessly you spasmed against him, hands clinging to every single part you could find purchase on. His neck, his arms, his back; you only had half the mind enough to kiss him as he pulled you through, never stopping his steady rhythm of thrusts. He kissed you back just as eagerly and wiped your tears with his free hand while he did. How could he be so perfect and fucked-up and yours?

You didn’t think to ask.

Instead, you rode through your bliss before slumping bonelessly into the arms of your husband, smiling and crying and utterly alive.

What a gift it was to be human, short life notwithstanding.

You had almost forgotten that.  

After a moment, Helmut slowed his ministrations. He pulled his slick fingers from your body and out of your sweat-soaked sleep shorts and all the way up to his mouth, where he deposited them and sucked the remnants of your release off of the pruned digits. You would have considered it extremely sexy if you weren’t still recovering from a leg-shaking orgasm to end all orgasms. Instead, you just laughed weakly as he removed his fingers from between his lips with a wet slurp and wiped the excess spit onto the sheets.

“How the hell did you manage to remember all that?” You finally asked, nudging him softly in the side as he chuckled above you, settling down once again against the headboard.

He shrugged before he replied. “During my incarceration, I had nothing more than the books you sent me and my own mind. After discovering that particularly filthy annotation you included in my copy of Wuthering Heights, I found I was eager to reread the highlighted paragraph quite often. With time and repetition, the words simply remained,”

You held him closer to you in the darkness.

Outside, the crickets were still singing their sweet song to the sleeping world, dancing along the wisterias and honeysuckles down in the yard, planted long ago with love and care to be pressed and sent along in the very books Helmut had previously mentioned.

“It’s a shame you had to leave it behind when James broke you out. I put a lot of effort into my notes,”

“Take a closer look, Schatz,”

His words were an incentive that provided enough energy for you to just barely push yourself up from his chest on shaking limbs. Sure enough, though, and true to his word, the copy of Wuthering Heights sitting on the dresser beside you was the same well-loved copy you had mailed to him in his first months of imprisonment.

“You never miss a single detail, do you?” You asked, incredulous. He answered you with a simple kiss.

“Do you want to get cleaned up? I could run you a bath,”

The question had your mind wandering to the luscious jetted bathtub in your ensuite bathroom, sitting unused as it had for months in the wake of your fight with Helmut. Perhaps the memories of your endless trysts in that very tub would no longer haunt you as they had before. Despite the temptation of it, though, you had other plans.

“Helmut,” your voice was barely a whisper as you brought your hand to cup him through his pants, “you didn’t get to finish yet,”

Despite the way his breath hitched in his throat, he shook his head. “You’re tired, Schatz, and I will be fine to wait for another occasion. This was about you,”

Excuses, excuses.

You tutted softly as your hand wandered towards his belt.

He made no move to stop you.

“I’ve missed you so much,” The admission escaped you in a breathless sigh. You needed him. Needed to see him, to feel him, to connect with him, trembling hands and aching head be damned! Helmut seemed to understand that because as you released him from his belt and unzipped his pants he busied himself with removing his turtleneck. “Every night, I swear I thought of you every night while you were away. I would lay here alone and close my eyes and hope, so foolishly, that when I woke up you’d be right there beside me again,”

Shuffling out of his slacks, he discarded them haphazardly into the darkness of the room along with his boxers. “Lay down, Schatzi. I’ll take you if you’ll have me,” His words were tender in the night. You did as you were told. In the yellow glow of the old filament bulb, you could see his proud cock, thick and leaking, and it made you want. For what you didn’t know, but you wanted. You needed.

You yearned.

The yearning didn’t last for long, though. There were no games to be played that might make your husband taunt you or force you to work for your pleasure. It had been far too long for that. Instead, you lifted your hips and let Helmut pull the soaked sleep shorts from your legs to deposit them with the other clothes. Then, you were both laid bare.

There was no need for words past that point.

Helmut lined himself up with your opening and, gazing down into your soul, pressed each and every inch of himself into you as he groaned like a man possessed. You clung to him, bringing your arms up around his shoulders, and for a moment the two of you stayed put, connected and completed in a way only the two of you ever could be. Languid kisses were shared. You passed them back and forth like secrets from wet and swollen lips. Only after an eternity when you dragged your pelvis up the slightest bit to grind against him did he move once more.

When he pulled himself from your wetness, just about halfway, he did so with the same slow precision he entered with. You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

There was no desperation to it like there had been when he got you off, no fast-paced need driving you together in frantic breathless shouts. Instead, Helmut kept his pace slow and deliberate. It was like he wanted to memorize the feel of every inch of your body, inside and out. So, he took a snail’s pace as he worked you open below him.

The lack of speed didn't mean there was a lack of passion, though.

Oh no, you both possessed passion in spades and it reflected in the breathy moans that filled the chamber of your shared room. Your room. Your bed. Your home. The thought of it brought you closer to the edge by the minute.

In that darkness, lit by your little lamp and the light of the brilliant moon outside, you could pretend things were different and yet the same. Helmut was simply a businessman who traveled often. You were his little wife. The home was cheery and filled with light, and he would come home to you every weekend with a smile on his face and flowers in his hands. There was no danger lurking in every corner, nor was there the threat or separation at every turn. Instead, you could leave your house freely to buy groceries or visit the Sunday market in the city square down the road. Things were happy. You weren’t going to die.

Oh god, you were going to die.

It was a fact you both knew, now, and had accepted. Your fate was sealed the second you chose to stay at his side all those years ago. Still, it was all approaching so very quickly, you barely had any time left to prepare.

Despite it all, though, you had this time.

You had this moment in the darkness where you could wail and moan and cling to your husband without fear. He had you in his arms and under his chest and filled oh so good with his cock and for just a second, just a sweet blissful tick of the clock, you could forget. You both could. So you did.

Your second orgasm didn’t come on in a steep climb like the first.

No, it crept up on you without you even knowing it was coming. Helmut fucked into you good and slow and deep for an eternity before you felt those telltale jolts of pleasure urging you towards your end. He felt it too, felt it in the way you tightened around him and arched your back when he pulled back only to push into your heat once again.  

There were no words. You didn’t ask for permission. Instead, you just let yourself fall into a pit of your own pleasure as you kissed Helmut and clung to his hips with hands that left bruises in their wake. He followed quickly behind. In the wake of it all, his return and your seizure and the fight and your recoupling, you felt a bone-deep ache of heartache and peace. Then, Helmut pressed a kiss to your forehead and collapsed beside you, pulling the sheets over the both of you and wrapping you in his strong arms. The skin on skin contact was divine.

“Your doctor is going to be very cross with us,” he muttered into the crook of your neck.

You let your fingers dance lightly down his back, slick with sweat, as you chuckled. “Let them be cross, then. I needed you. Besides, you started it,”

He nodded against you. Slowly, you both shifted to a more comfortable position. Helmut laid his head on the pillow, propped up against the headboard, while you opted to use his chest as a pillow instead, running a finger through his chest hair and looking up at him with tired eyes. “I will take full responsibility for my actions,” he said softly, “both recent and past,”

“I’m still mad at you, you know,”

“As you should be, Schatz, I’ve been a poor husband and partner as of late,”

“But you’ll stay now, right?” Your voice was more uncertain than it should have been as your husband reached for the dresser once more, retrieving his book.

Helmut met your gaze and nodded ever so slightly in the darkness.

“I will be beside you from now until I draw my final breath. Now sleep, Schatzchen. You’ll still have me when you wake,”

Slowly you let your eyes drift closed. You were pretty tired out… Wrapping an arm around his soft stomach, you murmured softly up to your husband. “I love you, Helmut,”

“And I love you, Y/N,” he replied, and as you drifted to sleep you could still hear his soft voice, ebbing and flowing with the breeze and cricket song in the nighttime.

“He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and, lifting up his eyes, howled…”

“What is it with you and bathtubs,” You chuckled, sitting on the lid of the toilet as Zemo straightened out his well-gelled hair in the mirror. Beside you, the body of a man sat bloody in the tub as rigor mortis set in.

Helmut shrugged. “I don’t like to leave behind a mess for those unfortunate enough to find the bodies,”

His words were heavy, but that didn’t stop you from humming an upbeat tune idly as you watched him work. In the end, you had been the one to land the killing blow on… well, whoever was now starting to smell as his bodily fluids crept towards the drain. You didn’t care much about him enough to remember his name. No, not while you could be watching Helmut with an intent fascination. He hadn’t trusted you with his plans, not fully, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to try to figure out what they were by watching the minute twitches of his muscles as he gazed at himself through the thin glass.

If there was one thing in the world you were good at besides killing, it was deciphering your traveling companion’s expression. He looked… tired.

“We’re reaching the end of the line, aren’t we?” You asked.

The words made him pause, catching your eyes in the mirror, but he surprisingly answered you straight.

“Yes, my plans are almost complete,” he hummed, turning to face you, “The Soldat will be moved into his cell to be evaluated tomorrow. I shall assume Mr. Broussard’s identity and, if everything goes according to plan, I shall be traveling to Serbia from there to kill the remaining super soldiers and stage the final fight between Iron Man and Captain America,”

You leaned forward from your perch on the toilet lid, letting your legs sprawl out towards the wall. “So that’s it? Just one more day and it’s done?”

He repeated your words; an affirmation.

“Just one more day and it’s done,” his eyes remained glued to you as you laughed lightly, leaning back to let your head rest against the cool wall behind you. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you snorted, “I’m just trying to figure out where you’ll drown me now that the bathtub is already in use. The sink?”

The look that crossed Helmut's face was between amusement and disgust as he let one small huff of laughter escape from between his lips. Slowly, he closed the small gap between you and leaned against the opposite wall. From his new position, you could see all of him more clearly. The rough beginnings of stubble on his chin, the bloodstains on his sweater, the way his hands fidgeted nervously at the edges of his pockets; everything about him was endearing. You had to remind yourself that both of you would be dead in a few days to push down the burgeoning feelings that began to bloom in your chest.

Besides, Helmut was still in love with his wife. If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting in a cheap hotel bathroom with him and a corpse in the first place. Still, it wasn’t terrible to have fantasies. You were a woman, after all, a woman with needs you were sure Helmut would understand. Distantly you were glad you’d be dead before you had to part ways with him. If it was a choice, you weren’t sure you’d ever choose to leave him.

“About that,” Helmut said, low and sweet. He licked his lips after he spoke. If you didn’t know him better you would have assumed he was nervous. About what, you had no idea. Then it hit you.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

As Helmut nodded, you took note that it was the first time you had ever seen someone look ashamed for choosing not to commit murder.  He gulped down a breath before he began his attempts to explain. “I try not to kill without reason. The deaths of those innocents at the UN are already weighing on me more heavily than I anticipated. It’s only a precaution, but I fear that if I killed you, the guilt would eat at me enough that it might interfere with my mission,”

“Mhm,” your response, a low hum, came with a slow nod that told him you were far from convinced with his reasoning. “It’s a real shame you dragged me all the way to Berlin just to make me find my own way home. I wish I would have known I was making it out of this alive. Maybe I would have remembered to grab my wallet before we left the house,”

“That is another thing I wish to talk to you about,”

You raised your eyebrows in mild disbelief. “There’s more?”

Helmut nodded. His formerly nervous expression was now replaced with a loose smile. Well, as loose as it could be on the face of a former colonel and current terrorist.

“We’re both aware that I will not be making it out of this little escapade alive. Now, I wanted to thank you somehow for your assistance, and I figured leaving you a monetary endowment of some kind would be a good way to repay you,”

“How much are we talking?” Without even noticing it you leaned forwards towards him. He grinned all the while, wolflike and half-mad. You adored it. Adored him.

“At least one million euros,”

Your jaw dropped.

“I’ve gotten in contact with my butler and have taken the liberty of purchasing you another hotel room across town, far from where the Winter Soldier will be set loose. You can check in any time after noon and stay there for up to a week. If you choose to accept my offer, my butler will meet you on the seventh day of your stay with the money, papers to create a new identity, and free transport to wherever you want to go. After that, should you want it, you will receive monthly payouts to help pay for any bills or extra expenses after you get the lump sum. Now, if you’d like something a bit more… permanent, I could also arrange for an extra few million to be delivered in cash up front for you to purchase a house. You will be free of your past, free of everything that has bound you. You can start over and live like any other person. Does that seem like something you’d be interested in?”

Before you could even speak you had launched yourself into Helmut’s arms. He smelled warm, like cedarwood and mint and fresh-pressed linens as you clung to him like a lifeline. There were no words you could say to express your gratitude, nothing you could do to beg him to change his mind and stay. You just held him there, close as you could manage to, as you smiled into his chest.

You were free.

You were free.

“I assume that’s a yes?” He asked. His voice was almost a coo as he finally wrapped his arms around you and reciprocated the affection. The motion caught you by surprise. You didn’t mention it, though, not when you were so deeply entrenched in the feeling of his pulse soaring under your ear.

“A million times yes,”

“I’m glad,” he whispered, “It will give me solace to know you’ll be taken care of. Now, where will you go? What will you do? I want to hear it all. I need to know what I’ll miss once we’ve parted ways,”

You let an almost goofy grin cross your lips. “I’ll retire, buy a little house somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere France with cash, and spend the rest of my days on this earth living in delicious sin. There’ll be no more killing, just cooking and cleaning and painting. I might take up watercolors again. Maybe I’ll even stop by the castle on my way and grab that big painting of you as a token to remember you by,”

Helmut cringed beneath your cheek. “You wouldn’t,”

“I would,” you quipped back, “and I will! I’ll hang it right in the middle of the living room so all of my guests have to pay homage to the man who set me free,” The fact that you wanted to see his face every day as you sat on his couch went without saying. It was simply implied. Helmut seemed to gloss over that fact entirely.

“What will you tell them about me?”

“That you were a good man. A dear friend. Someone who left the world too soon after doing what had to be done,”

“Is that a promise?”

“Absolutely,”

As you breathed him in, Helmut became fully aware of just how close the two of you were, pushed tightly against the off-white wall of the bathroom as the smell of lemon cleaner just barely masked the sweet rot of death. If he minded, it didn’t show. You only pulled away from him when a soft knock on the door of the main room broke you from your reverie.

“That’s breakfast,” you muttered, “I’ll keep her from coming in,”

“You do that,” Helmut replied, but he hesitated before turning back to the mirror. “Y/N?” He called softly.

“Yes?”

“If I don’t get another chance to say it, thank you for everything. I won’t forget the kindness you’ve paid me,”

“Neither will I,”

“Will you stay with me till the end?”

“Always,”

Morning came quickly.

Not quick enough for your rest to feel unsatisfying, but still too fast. There would never be a period of time spent in Helmut’s arms that felt like it lasted long enough. In the end, though, you woke feeling a full-body warmth from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

There was no blaring alarm to rouse you this time, no spasms wracking you and dragging you out of your peace, there was only the soft chirping of birds and the gentle humming of the air conditioning unit as your eyes fluttered open and your arms stretched out to the bed beside you to find… nothing.

You paused.

After a moment of adjustment, you found that your eyes agreed with your hands. Helmut was gone.

Even in the worst heat of the fight the night before, you had never felt quite as upset as you did in that moment while realizing he had left you again. Tears pricked at your eyes. How could he? After all of his promises, he had left you alone the same way he had before. Knowing his schedule, he’d be long gone by now; off the runway and up in the air if not already on the ground at his next destination. The only thing that kept you from bursting into an angry choked sob was the sound of the bedroom door creaking open.

You clutched the sheets to your bare chest expecting one of your guests. Then, Helmut stepped into the bedroom.

What? He had stayed?

Your heart thundered in your chest at the sight of him.

He smiled broadly, with the sleeves of his striped cotton button-up bunched at his elbows and a dirty dishrag in his hands. His voice was soft and tender as he approached. Everything about him seemed so domestic that it almost brought you to tears all over again. “Schatz!” he cooed, reaching the edge of the bed, “did you sleep well?”

Nodding mutely, you offered a wet smile.

“I’m glad,” he said. One of his large hands found yours, still knotted up in the soft fabric of the sheets. The silver wedding band on his ring finger gleamed brightly in the soft daylight. “I hoped I could be here when you woke, but Sam and James requested breakfast and I didn’t want to wake you up quite yet. You seemed peaceful,”

“I was,” you let yourself lean into his touch and smiled when he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I am,”

Helmut sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to crawl back into bed with you and enjoy that peace. Unfortunately, I still have to finish cutting up fruit downstairs. I just wanted to make sure you were doing well when I found a minute to sneak away,”

“Well, I appreciate it,” your voice was light as you brought up your free hand to Helmut’s collar and pulled him down for a proper kiss.

He fell into the familiar rhythm with practiced ease. It was brief, just a momentary press of the lips, but it made your heart beat just a little quicker when you felt him against you, warm and real and solid. As soon as it began, though, it was over, and Helmut was pulling back with a smile. All the while, he never let go of your hand. The two of you sat silent for a while, happy to just relish in the feeling of being together, but a clang from downstairs urged a deep sigh from your husband as he finally stepped away. You hated to see him go.

“Duty calls,” He chuckled, accent thick, “Do you think that was James or Sam?”

You nodded softly. “My money’s on Bucky, but knowing what I do about those two it was probably both of their faults. You’d better go survey the damage before they break anything else,”

“I suppose I should,” Helmut paused, turning back to you with his hand on the doorknob. “Will you join us downstairs for breakfast? Or would you rather I bring you up something to eat once I finish entertaining our guests,”

It took a moment for you to respond.

There was a certain safety to remaining in bed. Helmut would be sure to return as quickly as he possibly could, doting on you once again with the same soft vulnerability. You would probably even be able to pull him back into bed with you if you waited long enough. Getting a few more hours of holding him would be a luxury, one rarely afforded even when things between the two of you weren’t rocky. Something, though, urged you towards the other option. Maybe it was the quiet aching in your legs or the urge to see if your husband was able to keep his commitment to bettering your relationship outside of your bedroom, there was no knowing, but the universe wanted what it wanted, and what it wanted was for you to get out of bed.

“You make leaving our room seem like I’m exploring some wild, new frontier,” you snorted, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed. You both ignored your nakedness, though Helmut’s eyes did linger on the swell of your breast as you stood. “But yeah, I should probably get up. I need to clean up anyway, after… well,” you gestured to the mess of dried slickness between your legs, “all that,”

Despite the fact that you had been married to Helmut for over a year and had known him much longer, there was a bashfulness in your regarding of the events from the past night. It might have had something to do with the absolutely caddish grin on his face as he beheld the reminder, though.

“I’ll set you your usual place at the counter,” he said, watching you wander over to the closet like some bare goddess in the morning sunlight. Before slipping away back downstairs, though, he indulged you with a sweet “I love you, Schatz. I’ll await your arrival downstairs eagerly,” Then, he was gone, having closed the door behind him and retreated back down the stairs to deal with whatever nonsense Sam and Bucky had gotten up to in his absence.

You giggled softly to yourself.

Sure, your head still ached slightly and there was a tremor in your hands that wouldn’t quite go away, but for the first time in months, you had hope. The sun seemed to shine extra brightly thanks to that fact. Inside the walk-in closet, Helmut’s cologne was once again just cologne, light and pleasant as you gathered up a soft t-shirt and some sweatpants. After some deliberation, you grabbed another one of his awful thrifted sweaters too.

It didn’t take long for you to take a quick shower next. You washed away the evidence of your coupling under the warm spray, and as you did, something told you that you’d be doing a lot of that in the future. The water was heaven on your aching limbs. About 15 minutes later, you were dry, dressed, and patting the dampness from your hair on the edge of the bed.

Beside you, the nightstand was almost entirely cleared off. At some point in the night Helmut had taken away the tray with the long-forgotten toast, but in its place sat your wedding ring. It seemed to stare up at you with a gaze all too human. The decision wasn’t an easy one to make, far from it actually, but as you pulled on your husband’s sweater you grabbed the ring and slipped it back onto your finger where it belonged, and where you hoped it would stay into the distant future.

With one last deep breath, you made your way out the door and down the stairs to find out exactly what your guests had gotten up to in your absence.

You heard them before you saw them.

“I said cube, James,” Zemo groaned from the kitchen, “not slice. Mangos are best enjoyed cubed,”

Sam chimed in next. “Dude, it’s just fruit! Does it really matter which way he slices it?”

“Maybe if you cared so much about how your fruit was cut up,” James added, “you could do it yourself!”

You crept softly from the landing to the archway leading into the kitchen only to find exactly what you expected. There, crowded around the island and all dressed up in matching aprons, were the three men, all fussing over some part or another of what looked to be a breakfast spread fit for a queen. Well, baroness. Same difference. The sight was one you enjoyed a little too much, so kept yourself quiet for the chance to witness just a little bit more of their natural conversation. Between them, in a high necked vase, sat the salvaged bouquet of spring flowers you had abandoned on the front table. You were glad to see they had made it through.

Zemo was the next one to speak, walking to the stove where he flipped a delicious smelling slice of french toast.

“I believe you were the one who offered to help out this morning. If you hadn’t I would have happily completed breakfast on my own,”

“Yeah, I offered because I’m not a complete jackass,” Bucky quipped back.

“Language, James,”

“God, please don’t ever say that to me again,”

“Apologies,”

Sam noticed you then, your soft chuckles a giveaway. He smiled warmly and set down the strawberry he was coring as he addressed you. “Hey! Look who it is!” In an instant, all eyes were on you. Somehow, though, the attention wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, your presence seemed to calm the constant animosity between your husband and your guests. “How are you feeling, Y/N?”

You replied with a smile. “As good as I can be. Did you guys break anything while I was upstairs?”

As you passed the men to take your own spot at the end of the island, Bucky looked up from his butchered mango almost sheepish. “No, no we didn’t break anything,” Quickly, he added, “It’s good to see you up and running again,”

“He broke a plate while playing catch with Sam this morning,” Zemo added, “Nothing important, we won’t miss it much,”

Bucky blanched.

The domesticity of it all was almost painful as the room shook with everyone's combined laughter. Even Bucky joined in once he got over his mortification. For a moment you all seemed like an odd sort of family, bustling around that kitchen as the last bits and bobs of breakfast were sliced and fried.

It smelled heavenly.

When you had the mind to sit down at your spot on the island to eat you found Helmut had just barely beaten you there and was pouring you a mug of coffee beside your full plate. Oh, how long had it been since you’d had coffee in the house? Probably since last January, when the short days were spent watching out the window for a man who wouldn’t come back. You disregarded the thought as you examined your plate. Tropical fruit, french toast, and a small portion of omelet (with more waiting in the pan), sat, fragrant and saccharine and ever so tempting, but instead of digging in you watched intently as Helmut poured your cream and doled out your sugar. He caught your gaze just as he set a small spoon in the mug to stir it with.

“You still remember how I take my coffee?” You asked.

Instead of answering, Helmut just watched as you brought the mug to your lips. It was, as expected, perfect. Sweet enough but still biting at your tongue as you swallowed it down. Hot, but not too much so. Just heated enough to warm you from the inside out. Perhaps it was Helmut’s gaze that warmed you too.

He turned back to the stove then, gathering his own plate, but you knew he was still watching you even when turned away.

“Of course I remember how you take your coffee,” he finally replied, “You’re my wife,”

“You didn’t get me perfect coffee,” Sam added from his place beside you, beginning to pick at his food as he stared at the dark liquid in his own cup.

“Yes, Sam, but you are certainly not my wife,”

The room was laughing again then, but in a quieter way. Helmut came back around the island with his own plate and took up his seat on your other side as you ate and drank your coffee in the warm glow of the morning light. There was something so alive about being surrounded by compatriots, even if your truce was temporary. Your husband could see the change in the way you smiled.

Slowly but surely, breakfast was eaten and seconds were doled out. You discovered that Bucky, for all his harshness, had a soft spot for french toast with extra syrup and he, in return, learned that mango really did taste better in cubes. The sun rose higher in the sky and, through glass doors, you could hear birdsong outside as they enjoyed the amenities of your garden. Maybe Sam and James could be put to work digging weeds…

You had to work hard to stop yourself from getting attached.

To the guests, to the laughter, to the house you’d lived and loved in. It would all be gone soon enough, shot through or smashed or burned in the months to come, as would you be. Still, you enjoyed it while you could. If this was to be one of your last true spring days, you would savor every tiny minuscule detail.

It did you no good to live in fear of the inevitable.

Instead, you enjoyed the moments in the hope that when it all did come crumbling down, you could face the end knowing you had truly lived.

Helmut’s voice pulled you from your morbidities as he finished the last bite of his omelet. “We’ll have to run out to the market for more groceries today, I’m afraid,” he hummed, “but perhaps that’s a blessing in disguise. It’s far too lovely a day to spend it cooped up inside,”

You quirked up an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yes. We, Schatz,”

Something about the way that he was trying so hard to write his past wrongs was incredibly endearing. It made you grin into your mug as you swallowed the dregs of your coffee. “I guess I could take some time out of my incredibly busy schedule to go shopping with you,”

“Could you really? I can hardly believe it,”

“I’ll have to actually get dressed first, but I could pen you into my schedule, just this once,”

“I hope that you won’t change out of that lovely sweater, though. I find it ravishing on you,”

“Oh, really? Thank you. It’s my husband’s,”

You said the word proudly, The sound of it made Helmut’s face flush as he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

Sam’s voice pulled you from the soft display.

“Man, you guys are so cute it’s kinda gross,”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but the set of his jaw made you think he agreed.

“My house, my rules Sam,” you jested, “and my rules are that I get to kiss my husband,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just try not to get all mushy. Some of us are painfully single over here,”

“Like you?”

“No, not me, I get all the ladies. Bucky, on the other hand…”

“Hey!” Bucky interjected.

And you laughed. All of you laughed. You laughed and the world turned and somewhere across the globe, John Walker scoured Madripoor for an informant who could give him a lead on Sam and Bucky, but you didn’t know that, and even if you did, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care.

Not when Helmut’s hand was in your own, fingers laced together tight, as you brought your head to rest on his shoulder.

“Schatz?”

“Yes, Helmut?”

“I love you,”

“You know what darling? I love you too,”

You really did.

------

a/n: Wow. It feels so surreal to be done with this project. Thank you to every single person who has supported me through this process. It means more than you know. If you enjoyed the series, or want to scream into the void about it, I always love comments, so feel free to leave one! Thank you again!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace , @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy​ , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​ , @alanathedeer​ , @your-pixels-are-showing​ , @shit-post-things​ , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus​ , @halefirewarrior​ , @janelongxox​ , @rax-writes​ , @wondermia69​ , @booklover2929​ , @lol-im-done​ , @rorodendra​ , @spookycereal-s​ , @viviace​ , @wxrmh0le​ , @whatawildone​ , @mush-room-princess​ , @aliyahsfantasticlife​ ,  @gredvb​ , @chipster-21​ , @whatawildone​ , @cloud-of-roses​ , @bry-97​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​ , 

Please don’t repost my works, thanks!

#zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader

[dayseternal-blog]

If you ever finish answering all of yours awaiting asks...

45 questions for you 👀

https://myaekingheart.tumblr.com/post/650107314353897472/fic-writer-ask-game

Lolllll BADLUCKBREBIS, you are so funny.

Inspiration and Reading Asks:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

It looks like I started writing in 2017. I've been reflecting recently on how there are so many regularly active writers now compared to in 2017-2018. It was the tail-end of some of my fave writer's activity within fandom. Utsus was posting less and less. The Tumblr NaruHina fandom seemed to disappear, a whole community of writers left for other things (matchaball, nekomamoru, magmawrites, cherryjutsu, spyder-m, tenney-shoes, eliphya, among others). 2018 was a very quiet year, but! I avidly read katarinahime and bunnyhoodlum's works! In 2019, quirrrky restarted things with NaruHina Week!

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

Recently I’m primarily a reader!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because there's so many writers now!!!!!!!!

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do?

Yeah, let’s list them.  “A Special Friend” by agitosgirl inspired “Nightdreams.  “Medicine” by @grimmjowkurosakidrake​ inspired “White Lilies.  “Torch Song” by @mmmbuttery inspired “About You.”  The language in “Unless the World Were to End” by @bunny-hoodlum​ inspired the language in “That was the plan.”  “In Between Drinks” by @peppercornpress inspired “In Between Drinks NH.”

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

“Operation: Bring Home Naruto” by Dragonwannabe - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata's been assigned the mission of getting Naruto back home safely after his last dangerous assignment. But can she handle the undercover identity as his girlfriend that she’d been given without revealing her true feelings for him?

“The Mission” by Lunawraythe - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. It wasn't that Hinata never expected to work with Naruto, just never on a mission quite like this.

“The Loving Type” by @peppercornpresses - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. A few years have passed since the Fourth Shinobi War, in which...Rookie Nine steadily advances in rank. Naruto gets engaged. Hinata leaves Konoha. And Kakashi schemes for days.

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

ahhh.  I do have quite a few pet peeves.  If the fic is Canon-Compliant or Canon-Divergent, I expect Naruto and Hinata to behave like Japanese people.  Say what you want, but the Naruto Universe is definitely Japanese in my book.  So that means no shoes in the house.  Nothing rattles me more than reading Hinata taking her sandals off before climbing into bed.  Like, what?  she was wearing her outdoor shoes indoors this whole time??

mmm... another pet peeve is when the writer describes Hinata in a kimono, but it sounds like an American Halloween costume, like the slutty version, instead of an actual kimono.

mmm... and the other big pet peeve I have is when it’s Hinata’s first time eating ramen because Naruto is showing her the wonders of ramen.  lol.  why.  how.  in what world would a Japanese person make it to their teenage years without ever eating ramen.

I have a bunch of other little pet peeves regarding Japanese culture in fanfics.  But in general, it doesn’t stop me from reading the fic if I'm already in the middle of it.  I’ll continue reading it and will probably recommend it to other people anyway. If I can tell based on the summary, then it's not for me, and I don't read it. If this makes anyone feel nervous about writing fanfiction, that's not my intention! I would also be happy to be a sensitivity reader if necessary.

6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction?

I primarily read fanfics on AO3 and ffnet.  I find new ones by constantly checking the Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto tag on AO3 or looking into a writer’s favorites list on ffnet.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

Short fics.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like?

I reblog pretty often. I don't comment as often as I used to😕 I used to comment on every fic I liked.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

Uhh?? Idk. I think recently the writing group here is pretty tight, everyone seems to know everyone.

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Naruto fandom and NaruHina.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

I usually take it from words used in the story or from the prompt.

12. Tell the author your favorite fic title of theirs (not the fic, strictly title). Author: what’s your favorite title you’ve come up with and why?

I think...maybe "Tell Me of Forevers" or "Nightdreams." I like those because they aren't taken word-for-word directly from the story, but touch on a theme in the story.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

Yes, I outline. They wouldn't get a headache, I think. It's usually just a summary.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

Nope. I didn't know people do that.

15. Tell the author your favorite fic of theirs. What’s your (the author’s) favorite fic you’ve written?

My favorite fic continues to be "It's No Secret."

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching?

Yes, I do. I've done historical and folktale research for "Little Samurai." I did area/location research for "Last Chance." I did historical research for "About You." I did fairy tale research for "Catskin." I did a ton of astronomy research for "The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl." And I did lighting research for "Inspo." I go pretty deep.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

I don't. I usually have something else I need to do or I go to bed.

18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie?

I actually think I can finish all of mine if I just try.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)?

I always edit before posting to AO3. Anything I post directly on Tumblr might not be edited.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Posting!

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Starting a new chapter.

22. Do you take fic requests? If so, for what characters and why?

On occasion. If someone sends me a request, I'll think about writing it. Sometimes I do write and post it, sometimes I leave them in my drafts for a better day.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

From what I already have posted, probably friends-to-lovers, secret relationship/forbidden love, or high school au. I don't think I have an intentional favorite.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

Public humiliation / public degradation.

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist.

No, not usually.

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing?

Tumblr feed, all the pictures to scroll through mindlessly.

27. Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random?

lol, whatever is fine.

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

Well, pressure to update is not a big deal to me. I do this for fun, so I don't think I unnecessarily pressure myself too much. With negative comments, I don't get too many of those, and I think I do my best to avoid situations where I might get negative feedback.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)? Did you enjoy it?

Yeah, I like the events. My favorite was NH2020, the year-long one last year. I also enjoyed the Secret Santa last year since @badluckbrebis was my giftee.

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

haha😈

Ecstasy slides through his veins, blooming over his mind, cocooning him in pleasant sensations, cum shooting out in eager twitches against hot, milking flesh.

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Naruto Uzumaki, always.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

Top 3 faves in order:

That was the plan: "She shifts in his arms, and cloth and cleavage come pillowing up to his face, and he’s certain that she’s scooped from the same puffy stuff his adolescent daydreams were made of."

Tell Me of Forevers: "What he wouldn’t do to inspire every blush, every smile of hers for an eternity when such moments already only speak “forever” to him."

White Lilies: "Whether at his feet, in his eyes, ears, mind, if not reaching his heart, she never landed anywhere. (It’s okay.)"

I consider "White Lilies" to have my technically best writing, so it was kind of hard to choose just one line from that fic! But I decided that one's my favorite line from the whole story.

33. What do you like writing better: one shots or multi-chapter stuff?

One-shots.

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

A lot of my life experiences are in my writing. Hmm, I think readers probably think I'm...hmm...either empathetic or really perverted?

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

I spend a lot less time on real-life social media than before.

36. Are there any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been part of?

I'm kind of embarrassed of "Honeymoon at the Hot Springs" lol. It's fine.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write.

My current WIP is that A/B/O fic I started for February Smut Month Prompts: Sweet as Candy or Love Bites. I'm going to title it "Sweet As," and it'll be about how Naruto and Hinata become Alpha/Omega mates. It's really kinky, really smutty, and totally what I would want to read.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

uhh???? a 1?? I've never once thought of my writing process as chaotic. Ahh, then I think of bunnyhoodlum's multiple drafts for the same chapter, and I realize that there exist types of writing processes that I would not be able to handle...

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

My smut.

40. How did you come up with the idea for [x fic]?

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on tumblr, most hits/kudos on ao3)?

Idk about Tumblr,,, maybe White Lilies got the most attention here. My most popular fic is Nightdreams on AO3.

42. Asker: pick three of the author’s works. Author: rank them 1 (the best) - 3 (the worst) based on whatever criteria you want - this could be something totally random that isn’t quality related (like simply ranking fics based on how many trains appear in them) - have fun!

43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

I will always remember how people congratulated me for finishing White Lilies😭 Also, when peppercornpresses made that FIRST art of my story, I just, I just stared at it all day.

44. Rant about something writing related.

hmmm, I don't feel like ranting about anything. I just recently ranted about my pet peeves above.

45. Fic specific questions - if you have any weird questions about specific works, here’s your shot to ask them!

I did them all! Nice questions.

#anon #*anon* #fic writer ask game #i will send these questions right back at you

[mcheang]

First sight

What if Dong Hua noticed Feng Jiu when she was a maid? Did I write this before? THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT!

Ok...to be fair, the dude has seen countless beauties, I doubt he would be impressed by Feng Jiu. So he wouldn’t be dazzled by her beauty.

Rather, he would be interested in her culinary skills.

Notice how he remembered her name when he asked for someone to feed his fox?

Anyway, before Dong Hua leaves to duel Xiao Yan, he decides to try out Feng Jiu’s cooking by ordering her to prepare lunch alone.

Like hell Zhihe won’t sabotage her. Good thing Chonglin shoos her away.

So Zhihe’s maid works magic trickery in her stead.

But this is the princess of Qingqiu. She can so use her own magic to undo the damages.

At the meal, Dong Hua is suitably impressed with Feng Jiu’s cooking and asks her to teach his chefs.

To be fair, Feng Jiu’s cooking really is a work of art to be able to outdo the royal chefs of an emperor.

Feng Jiu is busy in the kitchen so she doesn’t see Dong Hua going off to battle.

When he comes back, his cultivation half gone, Feng Jiu is understandably worried. But she is a servant and has to remember her place.

That doesn’t stop her from sneaking a jar of cotton rose ointment to Dong Hua under guise as floral sauce to accompany his lunch.

Dong Hua thankfully is smart enough to recognize it as medicine and not food.

Feng Jiu hopes to have more interaction with Dong Hua but she just cooks for him....

Then the wedding came and Feng Jiu was heartbroken. She chooses to resign.

When they meet again at Bai Qian’s wedding, Dong Hua vaguely recognizes her.

Story follows as canon, only when Lian Song tells Dong Hua about Qingti, Dong Hua doesn’t have a headache for neglecting a beloved pet in mortal danger.

#eternal love of dream #eternal love of dream fic #eternal love of dream fanfiction #eternal love of dream fanfic #eternal love pillow book fanfiction #eternal love pillow book fanfic #eternal love pillow book fic #eternal love pillow book #三生三世枕上书

[paodequeijofeliz-blog]

I would do it all again

Ride or Die Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Mona and MC (Annie)

Information: this takes place after the first book.

Summary: After what happened at the parking lot, each member of the crew tries to build a new life, following the “every man for himself” motto. But Annie doesn’t agree with that and tries to pull them back together, especially Mona, who she has been waiting for too many years.

Warnings: some Angst talk, but not much.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

I would do it all again - Part 7 (FINALE)

         People weren’t allowed on campus after 10 p.m. The gates were closed, and securities would wonder around, keeping it safe. From what, Mona had no idea, it was just a huge old building with lots of books in it. Even the computers were too old to worth robbing. She just smiled at that vision, not much of a challenge for her. Sneaking in the darkness, the woman found her way to jump over the wall, fast and silent.

         In a few minutes, Mona was already walking through the hallways, clever to keep her distance from the windows. Where did you hide… It looked like the classrooms were all empty.

         “Library.” Said a man’s voice. It was the janitor, standing next to the restroom’s door. “She likes to stay there. I leave it unlocked.”

         She studied him for a moment but nodded her thanks.

        Library was on the third floor and had a light on. Of course Annie would hide between books. Mona crossed it like a lightning, following the heart-breaking sound of a soft crying only to find her girlfriend sitting on the corner. She had a huge coat covering her body, probably something kept in the trunk for cold days. Her face was flushed under the yellow light, a few slow tears still rolling down.

         Slowly, the Lebanese took a step closer and sat in front of Annie. Nobody said anything for a while, as the girl kept her gaze down, wiping the tears away. It was so quiet there that Mona could swear she was hearing their hearts beating: hers, faster, like a race car; Annie’s, slow, sad, tired.

         After what it seemed like an eternity, the sobbing girl took a deep breath and said something.

       “I never meant…”

       “I’m sorry.” Mona interrupted. Were her hands shaking? She shoved them into the jacket’s pockets to hide it. “I didn’t want you to find out that way. I didn’t want you to find out at all, actually. You’re right to be upset. I should’ve told you about Ada and our… Short relationship… In prison. You asked me not to fool you and I did. I lied. Fucked it up.”

       Annie blinked, her mouth opened, but there was no sound, so the Lebanese took it as a sign and carried on.

       “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I really am. You gave me all the time and space to come clean, I guess I was just… I was just…” she roamed her hands through the dark hair, searching for the right word. “Scared.”

        Again, silence. The girl fixed her posture, bit her lower lip, but didn’t say a thing.

       “I was scared you would leave.” That was barely a whisper. “That this would be too much for you to accept.”

       “I’m not upset about that.”

       Mona arched her eyebrows, surprised. “No?”

       “No. Of course not. You never promised me anything back then, Mon. I can’t demand or be mad at your for being with someone else. How selfish do you think I am?”

         “Wait. So, you’re not upset about Ada?”

         “Well, I am bothered that she was standing so close to you today, cause now we are truly dating. But that’s not what really hurt me.” Annie sighed and reached for Mona’s hands. They were warm and squeezed hers in a reassuring way. “I never meant to trap you into a boring life. I don’t want to change who you are, never did. After all of that, I just wanted you to be safe. And that’s all I have. I’m sorry, I can’t keep you safe in a big house, with all the wonderful stuff you deserve. I’m a teacher, a doctorate student, who drives an old car and buys cheap red pens. I’m so sorry. I love you, but I can’t give you what you want.”

         That’s when it hit Mona. It wasn’t the part about being together with another woman that made the girl run away. Not jealousy or disappointment.

         She was just feeling small.  

         “Babe, what Ada said about the things I want or enjoy, that wasn’t true.” The Lebanese let out a laugh of relief. The problem was so much easier. “Gee, is that what’s hurting you? Then look at me, and I’ll repeat it: I want to be here. I want to be with you. I want you and everything related to you. Screw the fancy hotels and jewels. They’re from a part of my life I was dead inside, in rage, alone. I’d trade all of it to run an auto shop with two great friends and a hot girlfriend who sneaks into a freakin’ library when she’s sad.”

         Annie had her eyes filled with tears again. But she was smiling. A broad, happy smile. “Do you mean it? Are you sure? Cause if I’m doing it wrong…”

         Mona stopped her sentence midway by pulling her into a kiss, straddling that silly, cute girl while making her run out of breath. Now she had the face flushed again, but it wasn’t of crying. “Yeah. Dumbass. I’m sure.”

         “So, you’re not sad about living a calmer life from now on?”

         “As calm as we can make it. You know problems will follow me forever. I still have to pee in a cup for my parole officer. And Ada won’t leave me alone for too long. You heard it. I gave her my word when we did… It.”

         Annie tilted her head, slightly confused. “When she said, ‘when we killed that girl’? I thought she meant you. When she turned you into a high profile criminal.”

         “It wasn’t a metaphor.” Mona eyes darkened, but her hands were holding the girl close. She didn’t want to lose her. “Ada had a fight with my cell mate. She suffocated her with a pillow while I… While I was watching. At the door. I didn’t do anything to stop her. It felt like I was frozen there.”

         “I’m sorry.” Annie touched her cheek.

         “She has been holding it against me ever since. I didn’t do anything to help. I didn’t move. I didn’t…”

         “You were in shock. I know you did a lot of bad things in your life, Mon. But you’re not a murderer. That’s why you froze.”

         “This will haunt me forever.” Her voice became a whisper again.

         “We’ll find a way to get through it. Trust me.”

         Mona took a deep breath. Foreheads together, they were losing themselves in each other’s gaze. The Lebanese felt broken in so many ways, and yet somehow, she could find peace in that girl’s face.

         “After everything you did for us? I trust you. Blindly.”

         “I would do it all again.”

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

           “Here’s more beer!” Toby lifted two boxes while walking inside the shop, a credit card hanging in his month.

         “Leave it on the fridge and take a cold one for you!” Ximena was sitting on a nice red car’s hood, next to a smiley Annie.

         “Nice!” he grabbed a bottle and threw himself on one of those rolling chairs that was left around, spinning closer to them. “The food?”

         “Mona’s bringing it.” Said the tattooed girl, stopping him with her foot. “You’ll get dizzy.”

         “She’s taking forever. Isn’t the diner just across the street?” Toby took a gulp of his beer, too distracted to notice the expression on Annie’s face.

         “Yeah, well, she had a doctor’s appointment today too. Just some check-up. X, do you have the camera?”

         “Sure thing, all set!”

         A couple minutes later, the old dusty car, Harold, parked beside the fancy red one. Mona jumped out of it with huge bags of burgers and fries. Ximena gladly took it out of her arms and went to leave them on the table, followed by a hungry Toby. “Finally! I’m starving.”

         “Hey, babe.” She gave her girl a kiss on the cheek, pulling her closer by the waist.

         “Hi, you. How was therapy?” Annie kept her voice low, careful so they wouldn’t listen.

         Mona only rolled her eyes, giving the same answer as always. “Boring.”

         But it wasn’t true. She was enjoying it. Well, at least, respecting it enough. Otherwise, the Lebanese wouldn’t be going there again every month for the past year. Annie knew it, but why not let the woman have her tough attitude?

         “I bet it was.” She lingered for a while on those dark eyes, before suddenly realizing the noises in the kitchen. “Hey, you two! No eating now! Let’s take the picture first. Just bring the beers!”

         Toby showed up with a mouth filled with French fries and two extra bottles on his hands. “He’ ya gu.”

         “Did you steal some fries?” Annie shook her head dramatically, pretending to be hurt. “How could you????”

         “No, I…” he swallowed the rest of it, taking a gulp of beer to help. “No, I didn’t. Me? A thief? Never! I’m totally against crimes.”

         “Alright, timer is set to ten seconds! So, everybody, get into place.” Ximena had put the camera on top of a few boxes carefully positioned in front of the shop. It could frame them together with the neon letters on the top.

         Mona took the extra bottles from Toby, giving one to Annie while sitting next to her on the car hood. “Cheers to that. Let’s go, X!”

         “Annnnnd, now! Ten seconds!” the tattoo artist ran towards then, sitting on the floor, right in front of the red car, her long arms grabbing each one of the women’s legs. Toby preferred to stay up next to them, sticking his tongue out while his right arm was in the air with the bottle of beer in his hand.

         The flash blinded them for a second. The first picture as a group again.

         “So?” Mona took a long gulp, throwing an arm around Annie’s neck.

         Ximena was still shaking the polaroid. “Patience!”

         “Oooh I look like one of those dangerous bass players in a Rock band.” Said Toby, peeking over her shoulders.  

         “Here! What do ya think?”

         “Nice!” the Lebanese smiled, proud of how hot she looked in that picture.

         Annie needed a little longer. She held the photo and admired it for a moment. They seemed so cool. The cars, the pose, the purple neon letters forming the name RIDE OR DIE.

         It was just the beginning of their new lives.

Tagging: @kamilahsayeet2063 (hope you like it <3)

#mona x mc #choices: stories you play #choices: ride or die #now this one #now I'm going to stick with one shots

[threelivesthreeworlds]

Anonymous asked: Hello sorry if I was unclear. What I meant to say is that most people have a superficial view on intimacy of any sort, and so while I love Tang Qi's portrayal of romance, I hate most people's physicality-obsessed interpretations. Dunno if it's a western thing, but fanfiction is so out of alignment with canon romance themes that the characters are barely recognisable anymore. (1/4)

Secondly, Most readers/viewers do not give characters like Yehua or Lian Song a chance before making stereotypical assumptions about them. I love their real personalities, flaws and all, but I hate the sheer hyperexaggeration the fandom makes out of it (e.g. hating on Ji Heng). People just cannot see a character as a whole but put them into one category or the other. (2/4)

Thirdly, I just added that I relate to Lian Song(depression etc) because I kinda share his views on romance/love and don't really care for physical aspects that much. I'm aware he's a playboy, but he's also not a stereotypical one (which is unfortunately how most people interpret him) so it's a relief that your blog instead backs up my interpretation of him with facts. (3/4)

Lastly, I'm so sorry for ranting in the Q & A section. Making several points with a word limit really compromises what I'm trying to say 😆. But the bottom line was that fandoms' misinterpretations of your favourite characters makes it hard to see them in an objective light again. (4/4)  

(this 4th one came in after most of our answers were done, so we apologize if it comes off a little ??? we weren’t aware of the end goal for the anons received. We mean no ill-will in how we come across, just elaborating on things and we hope that’s alright with you. <3)

(Admin Lin): Hey! Thanks for sharing your opinions, though these anons are starting to get a little haughty for our own comfort to continue addressing. Both admins have our own grievances with the fandom / how it views particular characters (Ji Heng being a prime example here), however the fandom still offers plenty of good things from it. This is not only a western fandom “issue” (I say as this physicality isn’t necessarily an issue), it can be found in the eastern fandom as well for not only this series but others as well. Both admins are in fact western fandom despite Admin Ro being Asian.  

        As for when it comes down to interpretations - Peach Blossoms is written in first person and hard to find on the western side of the internet; Yehua has an extra from his perspective but that’s the only direct contact we get with him that isn’t through Bai Qian’s eyes. Qian isn’t a romantic person nor does she necessarily find what he does romantic, she’s been engaged to him for so long she kind of considered their engagement troublesome due to her past experience with his Uncle Sang Ji. When it comes to the drama’s take of Yehua, we get a clearer idea of him but at the same time it’s easy to see where others can’t grasp him in his entirety or simplify things when in a fanfiction. Or, for the likes of me, knows what he’s like but can’t formulate a more articulate summary or introspective version of him because of his extensive complexities and in some ways, the knowledge of a Chinese household of some fashion to express the intricacies of his upbringing. It’s merely harder. 

         In the case of Lian Song - the Western fandom doesn’t have access to the information that can be found on this blog as easily because Lotus Step is in the middle of a hiatus but will continue serializing by next year. So, it’s no one’s fault for misunderstanding what kind of playboy he is since that was only addressed in the fall of last year and the dramas both make it clear he’s a playboy / amorous person but never elaborates on it. So it’s an easy assumption to make that he may be a typical playboy by fans of the other available media because he’s not featured beyond Yehua’s uncle or Donghua’s best friend with touches here and there of his connection to Cheng Yu. It’s only in his novel that we get to see a different side of him that will ultimately have a shift at some point to what we see 50,000 years down the line. So, I’m not actually bothered by this myself, personally. It is bound to happen because no one on the western side of the fandom has as much access or want to read an untranslated novel. 

        With TQ’s stance on romance writing, I will say the concept of eternal love or a love that lasts 3,000 lifetimes is a very Chinese one that unless one digs through it with patience and interest in Buddhism / other Eastern religions, that it can be a harder nuance to grasp for those unfamiliar. 

(Admin Ro): We’re sorry you’ve had bad experiences with “fanon” material. We’re thankful that you like the content on this blog enough to comment on it! These are my opinions on the whole affair: as a Chinese woman who reads Chinese novels, from a perspective of writing tropes, hyper-exaggeration is already frequently utilized...in canon. And - from a personal standpoint, when the tropes hit right, I - don’t necessarily mind. Depth can be dug out of the text, but it’s understandable for people to simplify when they’re simply writing or analyzing for their enjoyment.  

        I’m ace, so maybe I understand, Nonny, when you say that you don’t care for the physical aspects of love.  I personally, in my life, don’t necessarily want or need that kind of intimacy, and I don’t find myself straying into the smut tag too often to read about it as it stretches my comfort limits. Granted, I am not sex-repulsed, and it takes a great deal to upset me - however, if everything is in layers and someone enjoys writing smut, then they simply enjoy that layer. Romance isn’t less good and interpretations aren’t less good if there’s a degree of physicality in it. Heck, Admin Lins and I have discussed extensively the physicality of these books - we keep it off the blog 80% of the time because tagging, but it’s a present theme. And, all of us enjoy different things. At the end of the day I think we can’t say the tropes aren’t good when the tropes are the lead-ins that drew us into the more extensive stories.

         Furthermore, a lot of what is on this blog is “read,”and I will never say my read of a character or a part of canon is “right” - or that it's “right”-er than someone else’s. Yes, there’s room for passionate debate as evidenced by many, many essays, but I’m not upset when I can’t change anyone’s mind. People are not automatically wrong when they disagree with me - even if there’s textual evidence, there is difference in interpretation of that textual evidence. I understand why fandom thinks the way it does - though, you’ll have to forgive me, my brain is 90% of the time focused on Pillow Book. Regardless, whether you walk out of a book thinking “this character has this much depth and this many flaws” or “this character is just a flat out antagonist” is very much dependent on you. Yes, we as a blog synthesize textual evidence to make that synthesis easier, but ultimately we are no better judges of anyone’s personality than anyone else out in the fandom.

         Rather, I think sometimes for the sake of finding reasons or understanding, or when we look for evidence fitting our own assumptions about characters sometimes we lean into a softer read, maybe entirely without realizing it. This is a big no in the world of analytical writing for the sake of, ironically “objectivity”  - but this is for enjoyment and not academia. There are times when textual evidence is untouched by the author's tone in terms of connotation and so when we take it for our reading and we have our pre-formed opinions we fall a little more between the lines. Admin Lins and I obviously differ in where this happens as we each have our own, minutely different vibes for characters in question. We know where our confirmation biases in interpretation might lie. Everyone has those. 

         Up till about February or March this year, I, like a lot of the rest of this fandom, wanted to roast Ji Heng on a spitfire. That is my bias. We are humans, and I think we are perhaps incapable of reading something and staying entirely objective to each character. I clawed my way out of my bias (I say ‘clawed’ because it was difficult), however, by looking at the book, looking at my own opinions, looking at other people’s opinions and asking myself: which parts of this is most likely to be true? I think the only way of striving toward objectivity in terms of portrayal is to consider other people’s portrayals, even if you don’t like them - and see if there’s any truth you can see past your bias. And to accept that truth, even if it’s a hard pill to swallow.

         I guess what I have been trying to say, for this entire time, is that we are not the authority on what is and isn’t objective, on what is and isn’t right in these characters, interpretations, and this blog. We are glad to be an interpretation you enjoy - but that doesn’t mean the rest of the fandom who have different opinions are wrong or misinterpretations. I realize we can come across like that sometimes because we make salty memes and because we write long paragraph essays when we have opinions, but ultimately, no one is wrong. Our bubble of enjoyment is our bubble, and no one has to agree with us.

#three lives three worlds ten miles of peach blossoms #three lives three worlds the lotus step #Yehua #Lian Song #admin lin answers #admin ro answers

[elejahfanfic]

Start Over/6

Fanfiction

Part 6

Nick Amaro x Elena Gilbert

A TheVampireDiaries/Law&Order svu crossover. Well, just borrowing Nick Amaro.👮‍♂️💕

Totally AU - a little love story.

♤♡◇♧

Premise: Nick Amaro left NYC and went to live in Mystic Falls, to be closer to his daughter, as his wife decided to go back to her home town.

He rents a house next door to Elena Gilbert Salvatore, who is a widow now...they become friends and fall for eachother.

Also, Nick has to deal with a lot of supernatural things going on...

○♡

_it's fluffy and smutty,too. Also there is a bit of vampire violence

18+

♡□

tags @miguelsbrat

◇□■○

The next morning

Elena poured herself coffee. Cutting a cupcake in half, she walked to the living room. She sat down on the armchair. Her soft chocolate eyes landing on the detective, who was soundly asleep. Her thoughts flowed back to the night before.

"Elena, wait" Nick called out, stepping out of the house.

Turning around, Elena rubbed her wet palms at her jeans.

"I'm sorry for being - but this - all this is a new territory for me. Maria - had so many secrets - I thought I knew her- and now my daughter- is a witch - I just"

"Can't processes it?!"

"Yeah" Nick muttered.

"Come on -" Elena took him by the hands. "Ask me anything."

"It will take all night."

Elena sighed a little. She was exhausted, but could not sleep. She now twirled her phone in her hands. Opening the message inbox, she wrote a message to Caroline.

Elena: Any news?

Caroline: No.But Bonnie and Sidney are on it, with Valerie and Eric. How is Nick?

Elena: Ok, I guess. Asleep.

☕🌸🧁

Elsewhere_Mystic Falls caves

"You either do what I say or - you are all dead. Your choice" Kai Parker pointed the crossbow at the witch.

"The same goes for you." Sidney now channelled all his ancestry line, gripping the Gemini witch-vampire by the throat with his magic.

"This time we are sending you to the deepest, darkest abyss of Hell. Never to return" Sidney murmured the words, opening a portal, "sigillum usque in sempiternum."

Kai chocked trying hard to get out of the grip. Kicking and screaming the blaze surging from the portal enveloped him. With a last push of strenght, Bonnie joined all of her ancestral magic with Sidney's, throwing Kai through the portal that swallowed him, sealing for all eternity.

"My dearest," Sidney shot to his fiance, "are you all right?"

"Yes" Bonnie pulled the arrow out, watching the wound seal. "The protective magic shield Hope did worked."

"Oh, thank to the Gods." Sidney embraced the witch, listening to the baby's heartbeat. "She is fine"

"She is. And - she helped, too." Bonnie said. "I could feel it."

"She is going to be feisty like her mama" Sidney smiled lovingly.

"She is" the witch said now rubbing the rounded belly.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Sidney said taking Bonnie's hand.

"Yeah- I'm so craving a large chocolate milkshake."

"All right. You'll get an extra large one."

"With extra cream" Bonnie said as they walked out of the caves.

"Whatever you want"

"And a long bubble bath" Bonnie added.

"Done." Sidney said, stopping for a moment, pulling the witch into a loving kiss.

🎁🌼👮‍♂️

A couple of weeks later

Nick knocked at the back door of Elena's house.

"Hey, you" Elena smiled at the detective.

"Here is some left over apple pie. My mom made tones for the Salvatore school charity thing." Nick smiled nervously.

"Thanks. Come in." Elena took the pie. "I was about to make some coffee."

"How was New Orleans ?"

"Crazy good." Elena replied."It was a great idea to getaway for the weekend and have the bachelorette party there." Elena replied taking a plate out of the cupboard. "Want some?"

"No. I'm good. But coffee, yes. Please."

"Elena -" Nick started, gulping.

"What?"

"Can we start over? I mean - I'm in love with you. And I- I don't know why I've -"

"Shut up" Elena swooped over to the detective, placing a finger on his lips. "Just kiss me."

His lips were firm against hers, both moving in perfect sync, gently, lovingly. His entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, moving her hand to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her long, dark chocolate hair, lightly pulling her into him, adding more pressure to her lips, deepening the kiss.

Tearing away from the kiss, Elena now took his hand, giving him a sultry, lustful look.

"Elena" Nick stopped for a second.”We’ve kind of just - got back together”

"No talking" Elena said placing a small kiss on his lips, "I missed you, so much. We wasted too much time"

“Yeah - and now I will make it up to you.”

Elena tilted her head cutely. “Good”

She cupped his face in both of her hands and kissed his lips. Her hands slowly travelled down his neck, sliding underneath his shirt, her light hands gliding up aroung his back.

His eyes glistened with desire, licking his lips, he swallowed thickly, losing himself in her beauty. Just one look from her and everything in him shook and stirred.

“Don’t get me wrong - I want you and I missed you so much. But - I want to - I booked that table again in Mystic Bell.” Nick glided his hand over Elena’s cheek. "You are so breathtakingly beautiful" Nick now slipped as he cupped her face. Elena smiled knowing all too well how she affected him.

"You are not bad yourself" she beamed up at him with her eyes sheeted with desire.Their lips now met again, his softly tugging hers. His tongue darted in her mouth, entwining with hers, letting out a muffled groan as she pressed her body against his.

"You drive me crazy" he gasped.

"I've just begun" Elena said. “And we are definitely going to that dinner. Nothing is going to stop us. But now I want to take care of you.”

And as found themselves in her bedroom, she now pushed him on it. He freed himself of the shirt and she climbed on him, lowering her lips onto his, kissing him now teasingly slow, as he mashed his hands into her long hair. Moving her lips now to his jaw, she peppered small kisses slowly down his neck.

Nick felt his breath stop, as she continued to trail small butterfly kisses down his chest to his abs, stopping just below his belly button, looking up at him now, meeting his dark eyes fully lost in the fire she had set alight.

"Don't stop" he breathed hoarsely.

"Don't plan to" Elena said. She now pulled down his pants along with his boxers, exposing his hardness. Her hands slipped around him, adoring him with her touch for a moment. Lowering her lips now on him, his heart went wild. She ran her tongue over the spongy tip. She used her tongue to wet him.

Oh, my God," he grunted and as she took him in her mouth.

His blood roared through his veins like wildfire, burning and stinging. It felt like she was devouring him whole. She moaned softly, and he clenched his eyes as delicious jolts of pleasure shot up his spine.

She stroked and sucked him, coaxing long, low moans from him.

Wet, sucking sounds intermingled with his grunts of pure pleasure. He was not going to take long and the next moment he shattered into million pieces, coming hard.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest as his breathing returned to normal. His hands stroked her head. “You are amazing. I don’t know if I deserve you”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Elena said beaming up at him. Kissing her he now pulled her up.

With gentle hands he stripped her, sliding her checkered shirt over her head, unclasping her bra. Pressing a sweet kiss on her shoulder, he unbuttoned her jeans. Elena laid back, now letting him shimmy them down, together with her panties.

She moaned low in her throat, as he now trailed small kisses from her toes upward, slowly, his hands on her legs, always just a little higher than the kisses. Elena arched her back in anticipation, knowing where his fingers will soon reach. Her head rocked back against the pillow, a gasping moan escaping her lips as his fingers slid over her most senstive spot...

#nick amaro #elena gilbert #nicklena #fanfiction #tvd fanfiction #fanfiction crossover #alternative universe

[frankpanioncube]

10 for 10 for 10

It’s a game where you answer ten questions, create your own ten questions, and then tag ten people. It sounded fun!

@enamoredfey

- ah, using my head. Damnit.

1.If you could pick one ability from any game, what would it be? - The power of FLIGHT (That’s levitation, Homes.) ...okay I just wanted to say that. Less an ability than an ability raising system - but one that you could jump around to other party members after a while (think FFX’s sphere grids) Because I want to go wandering into the giant forking den of horrifically creeptacular beasties, just  157 cm 110 lbs me and my guitar and do obscene amounts of damage with a power chord.

2.Do you read more books or stories online? An equal mix. A lot more ebooks when I started long-term working in an office rather than a University. 

3.Do you have a creative hobby? I do write fanfiction and I noodle around on my guitar when I get the chance - though lately I’ve been looking into borrowing some drum practice kits from the musicians next door because I want to bang on shit. I love cosplay but have not been able to for many years now. 

4.If you were to create your own Cards Against Humanity card, what would it say? Black card or white card? Uhhh... Black: When cooking you can always add ______. White: Hot singles in your area.

5.What is your favorite snack when you are having a down day? I willl ALWAYS eat popcorn. Always.

6:If you could enter your favorite fandom, would you? Oh HELL yeah.

7:You have the chance to ask one wish from a genie, how much thought are you going to put into it? Barely Any. All the money from Bezos and Musk now legally belongs to me, I donate it to solve all the world’s problems boom, done. 

8.What item do you horde? Shiny things, stationary, craft?  I’m not much of a hoarder really. I like stuffed critters...? Round marshmallow-y things.

9:What creature (mythical or ordinary) do you think might represent you? A Dullahan maybe? I was trying to think of something that rode a horse...or a hedgehog.

10:If you could go back in time and fix one thing would you, or would you visit the future but be unable to return? FUTURE. Definitely the future. I would want immortality (or eternal youth) to see how it all ends because I can’t rightly say I wouldn’t be tempted to go back in time and take credit for making some huge event in human history go WAY better to be heralded as some kind of god upon my return. 

And now: 10 questions:

1. What was the first fandom you ever participated in online?

2. Favourite fast food restaurant?

3. You could trade this reality for any fictional one - but you get one choice and you can’t come back. Which one would you choose - if at all?

4. What is something good that is going on in your life right now?

5. What is your favourite scent/smell?

6.. You have the opportunity to do one thing you’ve always wanted to do regardless of cost or health or any other underlying circumstances. What is it?

7. What was your best subject in school (whatever level you went to)?

8. You could trade places with someone for a week - real or fictional, but you also have to be in their body. Who is it and what do you do?

9. How many pillows do you sleep on at night?

10. Do you prefer to consume media solely focused on whatever it is or do you intersperse with other things, like talking about it with people or doing chores?

 And I tag: @keelywolfe @jasthelazyelf @loganthrives @icy-pants @onemistresstorulethemall @unholykrow @sheewolf85 @myamoonie @dinofur, @cracksandcraters

#tag games #and of course any who want to do it #we're all bored here

[rubberduckyrye]

3, 15, 19?

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Oooooh, hmm. Do joint fanfics count? If so, my all time favorites have to be from “Book of Malice” and “Can you really call this a Hotel, there weren't even Mints on the Pillows”

Honestly BoM within itself is like a whole scene, so the whole thing really is my favorite. It’s so good. From Can You Really Call This A Hotel, my favorite line would have to be from Kokichi’s LSE:

A second or two ticked by. Finally, Kokichi spoke again, voice warm and yet so fragile; "Thank you... for being someone I can always be honest with."

I love this line because it implies a lot. It implies Kokichi wants to be honest with others, but is a compulsive liar who is kind of too much of a coward to do it on his own. It shows how much Kokichi trusts Kurochi in that regard, and even though being honest is so difficult for him, he can still be honest with his brother, and that’s very special. Kokichi also finds it special and is very grateful for it, too. It shows how fragile Kokichi actually is behind his walls and masks.

If joint fanfiction doesn’t count... hm, I’d have to go with another tie between “I’ll Be Joining You Soon” and “With a Little Luck.”

“I’ll Be Joining You Soon” is just, so sad. The whole thing is one scene, and it’s all miserable.  My favorite part though is this:

“Hey, Kurochi?” Kokichi’s voice cracked. “Do you think… maybe… you could forgive your stupid, terrible, useless, cowardly little brother for all the bad things he’s done? Do you think you could… find it in your heart to still–to still love me, like you did when we were kids–do you think, before I’m dragged away to hell, before I start my eternal suffering and torture… Could you at least pretend to forgive me, and love me?" A few sobs broke his little plea apart. "I know I don’t deserve it, b-but… We were always together, ever since we were born, until you… and I just want… I… I just…”

Because it’s just... so heartbreaking? It hurts so bad, I’mma cry.

From “With a Little Luck”, I just really love the whole scene where Kokichi calls his brother on the phone to where he gets home. Everything about it is like, my all time fave.

15. something you learned this year

Ooooh, hmm. This is kind of difficult. But I guess, i learned way more about compulsive lying and psychology thanks to writing for Kokichi. I learned about the kind of things that makes compulsive liars, and how much anxiety and potential self-hatred Kokichi actually has in order to be one. It’s really sad when you go looking into the disorder, actually.

19. any new fics to start next year

Aside from my personal goal to finish Twins AU in 2019, I have a few drabbles here and there I’d like to finish. Though, I think my biggest goal would be to write more/complete the novel I started in nanowrimo. I might have failed nano, but I did get some work for the book started, which is amazing to me. I’d like to be able to finish it.

#stardustdandere

[bemusedlybespectacled]

I posted 2,082 times in 2021

80 posts created (4%)

2002 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 25.0 posts.

I added 1,723 tags in 2021

#love me that's all i ask of queue - 1470 posts

#personal - 77 posts

#leverage - 38 posts

#someone get that man a dom - 25 posts

#history - 22 posts

#anonymous - 20 posts

#cackling - 19 posts

#leverage: redemption - 18 posts

#bb is a lawyer - 17 posts

#star trek tos - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#i had four teeth removed solely for aesthetic reasons when i was like twelve and no one was handwringing over my irreversible mutilation

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

on the flip side of “characters are not real people and so shouldn’t be held to the same standards we hold for actual humans,” real people aren’t characters whose traits are chosen by an omnipotent author. real people are people who are a unique constellation of traits, each of which is shared with millions of people.

the usual problem with a fictional character falling into a stereotype is that it’s their only characterization. the important thing about the damsel love interest is that she’s in danger and she’s in love with the protagonist, so we don’t need to know about her passion for stamp collecting if it isn’t plot-relevant; there’s no scene where we watch the evil terrorist check out the devil wears prada from his local library immediately before trying to murder the hero with ten other terrorists. and, typically, they are the only character of their kind: the only gay guy is the villainess’s sycophantic sidekick; the only black woman exists only for the heroine to have a best friend.

but humans, by dint of being human, are always three-dimensional, multi-faceted beings, and are always one out of millions of other people. having the only female character in your cast have no personality other than “liking pink” is trite and overdone; an actual human woman who likes pink is always going to be more complex than that.

if your complaints about someone’s actions, experiences, or inherent traits read like an editor complaining about overdone tropes or stereotypes, you aren’t actually making a valid critique, you are demonstrating a fundamental inability to discern truth from fiction. 

1973 notes • Posted 2021-11-15 04:57:05 GMT

#4

~hot take~ about a book that came out ten years ago but one of the biggest reasons 50 Shades of Grey fails as a fanfiction - not as a piece of writing, but as fanfiction specifically - is because it fundamentally misunderstands the central conflict throughout the Twilight novels and as a result makes Anastasia and Christian’s relationship even more incomprehensible and unhealthy than Bella and Edward’s. that conflict NOT being the Volturi or anything to do with other vampires, but the fact that Bella wants to be a vampire and Edward doesn’t want her to be a vampire. 

like, Bella doesn’t want to grow old, she’s been parentified by her parents, and she feels boring and ordinary, so eternal youth + superpowers seems pretty fucking cool to her. meanwhile Edward hates being a vampire and sees it as a burden, especially since part of being a vampire is the constant threat of accidentally injuring or killing his girlfriend. the tension is the push and pull between what Bella wants and what Edward wants, and it’s only resolved when she does actually become a vampire.

so if we assume that BDSM is the vampirism metaphor in the 50 Shades fics (namely, something dangerous but also sexy and alluring), then Anastasia should be completely gung-ho about the kinky shit and Christian should be wracked with guilt every time he even considers spanking someone. finding out Christian is kinky should make Ana realize that whatever feelings she’s had before has a NAME and OTHER PEOPLE and is NORMAL and that her secret kinky fantasies are validated, while Christian should be crying into his pillow at the idea that he’s corrupted poor innocent Ana with his perverted ways. 

what I’m saying here is that it not only makes the storyline way creepier, because BDSM - and a relationship with Christian, since the story explicitly says you can’t have one without the other - is something that Ana is afraid of instead of excited about, but also makes it WAY more boring. oh ho hum, “a sexy millionaire overcame my protests and had his sexy sexy way with me!” said every fucking Harlequin novel ever. groundbreaking.

tl;dr: the plot of 50 Shades should be “Ana discovers Fetlife on bing.com and they go back and forth on their kinky needs v. Christian’s guilt at potentially hurting his love until they split the difference and have Ana top”

2895 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 21:42:21 GMT

#3

one of these days I’m gonna get an expensive mic and Final Cut Pro and I’m going to do an extended Youtube series called “You Don’t Know How To Write Fanfiction” and it’s going to just be me tearing apart big-name writers and directors for having shit characterization and no idea how to write creative plots for existing franchises because they’ve never had to write a crossover or AU in their lives

3338 notes • Posted 2021-01-15 02:52:18 GMT

#2

the thing that bugs me the most about the censoring of the internet to please advertisers is like... tv shows aren’t having less sex and violence in them. movies aren’t having less sex and violence in them. HBO can do eight seasons of graphic murder and nudity and it’s the cultural phenomenon of the decade, but I can’t show a nipple on tumblr or talk about death on tiktok. it’s not that the internet is becoming “safer,” it’s just making these topics a privilege only for very rich people, and putting it behind a paywall for everyone else.

16355 notes • Posted 2021-11-28 15:57:39 GMT

#1

disney looked at the success of maleficent and thought audiences really wanted shot-for-shot live-action retellings of existing disney movies and/or villains with tragic backstories, when the success of maleficent really was down to two things:

a well-crafted version of sleeping beauty that was still recognizable as sleeping beauty, but with enough deviations that it felt like a new story, complete with worldbuilding/lore and a very sweet and realistic mother/daughter relationship between maleficent and aurora, and

sexy bird man

20851 notes • Posted 2021-05-28 04:50:15 GMT

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#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #utterly shocking that my maleficent hot take has more notes than my internet censorship one but then again it has several months headstart #personal