#I would've never had a chance to even *try* going pro if it wasn't for him. And if anyone *had* given me the time of day‚ I would've been

[blackmesa-vr]

🥊🏆

[sprintingfox]

How would they react to Freya, if all three of them were together in one world?

Bonus: How would they react to the Mikaelson sister who is strictly Mikael's? (I know Valda and her both ended up with Lucien but like... shhhh. )

I forget how I made them react in their individual stories + this asks about altogether so ignore whatever was written in the fanfics and lemme rethink this.

So considering the dynamic I mentioned in the previous anon reply where I talked about how the OCs would be with each other in the same world, I think that it would be somewhat as follows:

EISA: At this point Eisa has raised seven children instead of only five (Elijah, Klaus, Hilda, Kol, Rebekah, Vivalda, Henrik) so Ms Girl is even more stressed and would probably have been a bit resentful at the fact that Freya wasn't there. Like she would probably feel guilty for thinking it, but would consider that most of those kids wouldn't have been born if Freya lived. She would slightly hold a grudge for having had to shoulder that burden. However once she gets past that (prob needing to rant to Finn for a bit and have him remind her of the pleasant memories with Freya), I think she'd be SO GLAD to have a big sister that she can look up to, especially one who is also part of the LGBTQ+ community! She'd probably finally get a chance to relax and let Freya be the big sis for a bit.

HILDA: She'd probably just find it so cool that Freya can still do magic, maybe even be a lil jealous about it! But I think she would sympathize the most with Freya's struggles. I can totally see her being the most gentle in wanting to understand her, given her experiences with her mental health. Freya would also be so caring when it comes to hearing how Hilda and Kol have struggled with losing their magic— I bet Freya would help her regain her magic! Eisa learned to love vampirism more but Hilda never fully did so she and Freya would be spell-casting besties.

VIVALDA: Definitely imagine Vivalda resisting the most to Freya. She'd be like Klaus asking like why tf do we suddenly have a sister? Why is she alive now? Why is our mother a lying b-word? I can totally see them being the only ones to sneer at each other about it while everyone else is like omg Freya you're so nice yay. It would take a lot for Freya to win her over. Vivalda already likes to be independent so Freya can't be all nice and wanting to get to know her to make Vivalda lower her walls. She'd have a lot of fun with frat-party-Freya from Season 3, I think if she saw that wild side she'd be like ok my sister is kinda cool. Plus seeing Freya stand up to Dahlia would earn her a lot of respect from Vivalda. So after that maybe she'd try to be nice to her (lowk she would just not want Freya to try to replace Eisa the way Elijah tried to replace Finn). As long as Freya doesn't try to baby her against her will, it'll be fine.

BONUS

Oooooh this is a good question. Jeez. Ok well for the Lucien part, I feel like Amaris would probably not end up with Lucien cause like again Eisa would be with Aya, Hilda would stay with Tristan, and Vivalda would be the one that got to know Lucien. So Amaris would probably be with someone else... maybe Marcel? cause I doubt Marbekah would happen if Eisa, Hilda, and Vivalda all lived in this age. And plus Amaris wouldn't actually have known Marcel when he was growing up. That or maybe she would've been with just anybody else that has a similar personality to her and Lucien.

EISA: She'd probably be like aw wtf not another little sibling!! But she'd be glad it was a sister. She'd be pretty understanding about it cause she knows it's not Amaris's fault and like Elijah try to give her the benefit of the doubt. It would definitely be weird to her considering Mikael hates her so much and she'd go on to see him LOVE Amaris but she'd get over it. I think she'd see that this girl really regrets leaving her mom behind and never seeing her again and she'd just want her sis to get a chance at life. She'd probably encourage her to become a hybrid as soon as possible so she can live with them forever, might even offer her a spot in the Strix because why not yk.

HILDA: Kinda along the same lines as Hilda. Amaris is older than Hilda so she'd probably be like oh nice another big sister and would find it SO FASCINATING that her sister is a wolf while she used to be a witch. Like interesting little pair. Would also be like dang Mikael didn't really like me but he likes her but she'd get over it pretty easily. I can see her and Kol being the closest with Amaris and protecting her from Klaus. Like Eisa would do that too but Hilda would RIDE OR DIE for Amaris once they get to know each other and she'd want to take her all over the world so she can learn about wolf cultures in other places kinda like she and Kol traveled to learn about witches everywhere.

VIVALDA: Same as she would react with Freya. Like why another sister? Why did Mikael cheat? Why does he love her and not us? But probably less hostile than with Freya honestly and that's solely because Mikael never knew about Amaris so it's not like he missed her. She'd be bitter that he cheated and simultaneously treated Esther badly (despite the fact Vivalda dislikes Esther the most out of these three) but she'd eventually know that it isn't Amaris's fault and at least Mikael didn't constantly think of Amaris while he was taking care of the rest of them. Vivalda would try to make her strong and could potentially be a little abrasive about it out of fear that Amaris would die more easily than the others— similar to how Mikael was really hard on them sort of out of concern that he'd lose another child if they were weak. Again once she sees the wilder side of Amaris she'll be like oh my sis is hella cool but she'd probably taunt Mikael about it and I can totally see her and Amaris butting heads until Vivalda mellows out about it. That being said she would NEVER let Klaus manhandle Amaris the way he did.

Thank you so very much for these questions, I absolutely love responding to them, it makes my night!!

[casspurrjoybell-25]

Skating on Thin Ice - Chapter 38 - Part 3

*Warning - Adult Content*

Fox Ridley

Elijah spun around on the ice like he was in his own winter wonderland, laughing with glee as he glanced around at our surroundings.

The ice at our feet looked like crystals while the setting sun made everything around us glow.

Elijah's smile beamed like he was glowing himself.

"Doesn't this look so cool?" Elijah asked, staring up at the sky.

He looked so content, in a beautiful bliss.

I had never seen him so at ease, the tension he usually carried having vanished as soon as he laid eyes on the lake.

Happiness looked good on him and seeing him like that made butterflies erupt in my stomach.

I wanted to see him like this all the time.

So beautiful and happy and serene.

"Yeah, it's cool," I agreed, clearing my throat and trying to push my thoughts to the back of my mind.

Elijah turned his gaze to me with an unreadable expression, yet still looked peaceful beyond words.

He slowly skated backwards until Alex came up to us with his loud voice.

"One of you race me," Alex commanded, looking as if he was about two seconds away from passing out and needing to be carried back to the hotel.

It wasn't about to be me who carried him.

"You look like you're about to fall over," Elijah told him.

"Yet he'd still beat you in a race," I couldn't stop myself from saying.

No matter how much I enjoyed to look at Elijah and no matter how his beauty made me feel inside, I couldn't keep myself from poking fun.

Elijah narrowed his eyes at me and he still looked as endearing as ever.

"Both of you race me then," Alex exclaimed. I was about to deny him before Elijah nodded in agreement and allowed Alex to lead us over to the rest of the group.

It felt like I followed Elijah like a lost puppy and if any of the guys knew what was going on with us, they'd think the same.

We had competed in two races, me being the victor in both of them, even with Elijah trying to pull me down.

His laughs as he fell and slid on the ice were enough to send the flutters in my stomach again.

I chuckled at him, placing my hand on my chest as I slid over to where he laid on his back and leaned over him.

"Are you okay?" I asked, not able to stop myself from laughing.

"I would've won," he said which only caused me to laugh harder and offer him my hand.

"Sure you would've," I replied as I pulled him up to his feet. 

Once his hand was in mine, it was hard to let go of.

I wanted to keep it and keep him warm but the others were around.

I mentally cursed at myself for caring what they thought about us.

I wanted to hold onto Elijah's hand and not worry about what anyone had to say about it.

It was stupid, really, thinking anyone would judge me for holding hands with him.

I let go of him and my hand was icy cold once again.

I smiled slightly at him, his cheeks rosy and his deep breaths clouding above him and gestured for him to follow me.

We skated side by side and I watched him, not able to take my eyes off his face. 

The way he looked while we were out here, the calmness, the happiness, the utter joy, made me realize just how much I wanted him.

I had known since the start of this, since I kissed him on his birthday, that I wouldn't be able to keep myself from wanting more and I knew I couldn't ask him to date me in the closet just so I had a better chance at being respected in my hockey career. 

The thing about it was that I didn't even know if hockey was what I wanted for a career or what the odds were that I'd actually make it into the pros.

What I did know is that it wouldn't feel half as good making it if I had to hide who I was while I did it and I would feel happier without having any regrets and without missing out on what I wanted in the present.

I kept my gaze on him as he skated before I stopped him.

"Hey," I said and he stopped, raising his eyebrows at me.

I let out a heavy breath, a cloud of breath forming between us before quickly disappearing into the air.

I skated closer to him, trying to swallow down all my nerves.

I was closer to him now than a friend should be.

"Would it be bad if I kissed you right now?" I asked, my tone quiet and hushed like I was still scared of someone overhearing us but I wasn't.

At least I thought I wasn't anyway.

Elijah stared at me with a look of shock, his breath catching in his throat.

"Everyone would see," he reminded me, a serious expression on his face.

I could appreciate his reminder that if we did this, there was no going back and after seeing him today, seeing him in front of me right now, I knew I was okay with that.

I nodded.

"I know."

Elijah let out a shaky breath but I forced myself to keep mine even.

I didn't want any apprehension to show.

I didn't want him convincing me not to do this.

"Would it be bad?" I repeated.

"If you're not ready for it," he replied.

"If it would make you hate me."

"It won't," I answered instantly.

There was nothing in this world that would make me hate him, that I was sure of.

"But are you ready for it?"

I paused and took a deep breath, looking into Elijah's eyes for any indication that he didn't want this.

All I saw was desire.

I nodded.

"I am. I want to."

"Then it wouldn't be bad."

That was all he had to say for me to cup his face in my hands.

My hands were burning as they held his cheeks.

My lips over his started out slow and unsure.

The kiss was soft and filled with care as my lips caressed his.

I wanted to show him how serious I was, how I felt about him and how his happiness made me feel.

His kiss was heating up my face.

It made me feel safe, warm and cared for.

I pulled away for a moment, looking to see how he was feeling.

I searched his eyes again for any indication of wanting to stop but I didn't see it, so I leaned in and kissed him again. 

He kissed me harder this time, showing me his own feelings and making me feel as safe as I wanted him to feel with me.

With him, I was blissfully ignorant to our teammates who were most definitely staring at us at this moment.

At that point I didn't care.

All I cared about was Elijah, his lips on mine and the way we made each other feel.

We eventually pulled away, my posture rigid as I felt numerous stares on my back.

Elijah peeked around my shoulder, a tight lipped smile on his face before he patted my shoulder and looked at me.

"You have to face them," he told me softly.

"I think I'll just stay here," I said.

[fyeahbachisagi]

This!!! All of this! This is exactly why Isagi is such a great protagonist. Blue Lock is a subversion of the shounen sports trope, and of course the main character has to be that as well.

And ironically, this "sports trope subversion" protag is actually the most realistically written sports character.

I was the captain of my high school scrabble team (yup, that board game), and when it comes to scrabble, I can get extremely competitive. Isagi's selfishness is very relatable to me, and it should be as well to those who play with the aim to actually win.

In my tournaments, we go as a team of four players. Games are played as 1v1, but whether or not we proceed to the next round is determined by the number of points we earn as a team.

Every single time, I would earn the most points for my team, yet in the end I never made it to nationals because my teammates fucking sucked. Heck, we couldn't even qualify for regionals.

IT WAS A VERY FRUSTRATING FEELING.

I shared this story on my main before about how even my coach didn't care much about us winning that she once got us disqualified for a round. All my other teammates just proceeded to play like normal in the next round. Meanwhile, I was completely silent, trying to hold back my tears while also thinking about how I must definitely win my last two matches coz maybe it can pull my team's rank up.

It didn't. All my other teammates lost their last matches.

ASDFGHJKKL I WANTED TO KILL SOMEBODY

This panel of Isagi was so fucking relatable that when I read up to here, I was reminded of my own rage.

【This reblog is getting pretty long, so I'll explain the rest under the cut.】

But wait, Liz, how are you the same as Isagi if you were actually a good player?

Looking back on it now, I wasn't actually that good of a player.

I can confidently say that I was the best on my team, but my team usually ranked average to below average, so you can imagine what this "best" was. (I'm definitely better now than I was in high school, though).

Against teams who consistently ranked in the top 10, we didn't stand a chance. I didn't stand a chance. Once, we were matched up against the reigning champion, and we were all massacred.

But back then, I seriously thought I had a chance of winning. Losing was never an option for me. Like, I was aware I could lose, but I always went in every game thinking that I was going to win it.

And whenever I lost, my thoughts were NEVER about how we "at least shared some fun memories." Granted, this may be because our games were 1v1. However, my coach and teammates, would always imply that "at least we played."

So, what I'm trying to say is:

Some people just play for the experience, while others play to win.

Isagi is someone who plays to win.

And if you're serious about going pro, you should have that passion, drive, and ego to win.

I don't have a sad backstory aside from my frustrating high school games. I didn't have thoughts of going pro*, either. So me playing then had even less purpose. I just played because it was fun and I really loved winning.

* I didn't know that was an option in scrabble. Had I known, I would've definitely tried for it.

And this is just scrabble I'm talking about—a board game that many find boring and definitely not intense. Imagine how it would be like for players of an adrenaline-pumping game like soccer.

Isagi represents the average players out there who just really want to win. He won't be comforted by excuses like "at least we shared some fun memories." Losing is disappointing and infuriating, and no TED talk can ever sugarcoat that feeling.

Isagi Yoichi is a weak protagonist

And that’s why he’s perfect for Blue Lock. I like Isagi a lot as the protagonist but many people who are reading and watching Blue Lock for the first time find him to not be that suitable as a protagonist. I’ve already written about how Isagi is a great protagonist for Blue Lock’s themes on egoism here

But I want to talk about how he sort of deviates from the normal shounen protagonist role and how that might be why some people also don’t like him as the protagonist. In many other shounen, the protagonist is an Under dog that we the viewer get to see rise up in their own world and become #1. Right off the bat, some of them are already incredibly confident in their own abilities and believe they can reach the top all on their own.

However, often times these protags can’t reach the top in the beginning and are nowhere near strong enough or smart enough to be #1. For example, Luffy proclaims he’ll be King of the Pirates one day, even though he doesn’t have his own crew, he’s never really been in a fight before, he has no experience being a “real” pirate in the beginning. He’s an underdog who’s talking big when we all know he hasn’t quite reached that level yet. And often times these characters are also unaware of just how “weak” they are in the beginning, they’re so blinded by their own self confidence that they don’t actually see their own flaws until it’s too late.

Isagi however is a bit different then this:

Chapter 1 we see that from the get go Isagi is really determined and that he’s already got his own goal in mind. Sure it’s not a “huge” goal, but we’re actually seeing him fail and lose from the jump rather than learning about the unfortunate circumstances of why he failed in the past.

Isagi has no sad backstory for why he didn’t make it to nationals, there’s no terrible consequence for him losing this game other than his own disappointment.

Even when his own team is sobbing because they’ve lost and this is the last time they’ll play together, Isagi is just disappointed because he lost the game. There’s a clear separation between him and his teammates that becomes really apparent  just from this panel. And compared to the guy who did win? Isagi almost looks like a background character in his own manga:

Blue Lock starts with us seeing the failure of the protagonist, and we see what skill he is at from the very first chapter. Isagi lost a simple game that he had everything riding on, and he lost to a character who looks marginally better and more charismatic then him. So when this scene happens

its clear to the reader now that Isagi’s motivations are entirely selfish. He didn’t care that he would never get to play with his teammates, he didn’t care that it might be his last year playing beside his team, he only cared about winning. So now we have this “bad” quality that is attributed to our own main character, this selfishness even in the face of loss makes Isagi look a bit like a sore loser.

And I can see why this would kind of make people not like Isagi from the jump, since he’s being incredibly selfish here. He’s upset for the “wrong” reasons when it comes to losing the game, he isn’t okay with just playing “for fun” and to be with his friends. All of the usual friendship tropes many shounen protags are not present in Isagi at all.

Isagi’s selfishness and ego can also feel “unearned” to some people because of this. Isagi has no sad backstory, he wasn’t “the best on his team”, he was completely unremarkable and even says so himself

“He has no feats” is what some might say to prove how lame Isagi actually is. At this point in the story there is no reason one would really believe Isagi could make it anywhere because that’s just how boring of a player he is. But despite this he has the audacity to feel upset he lost, and not only is he pissed that he lost, but he’s got an ego that says he should’ve won. If he hadn’t passed then, if he had just taken the chance to actually try and score on his own…if he hadn’t decided to rely on his teammates in that moment, he feels like he could’ve won that game.

Its why he becomes so angry and frustrated in chapter 1 because he realizes he made the wrong choice in deciding to rely on players who he deems were lesser than him.

So not only is our main character incredibly selfish when it comes to soccer, he laments about his choice to rely on his own teammates in the moment he was at his lowest. And this can feel “unearned” to people because there’s nothing Isagi has really done to let us know that he could’ve won without the help of his other teammates.

However, I don’t think that is really the point of these scenes in chapter 1. Or at least, it doesn’t actually matter if Isagi had the skill to win. What matters here is his ego and selfishness despite how mediocre he is. It doesn’t matter to Ego Jinpachi that he lost this game, all Ego cared about was how deep Isagi’s ego runs and whether it can persist in the face of adversity.

If Isagi had decided to be humble and calm himself down in this scene with weak platitudes about how “Soccer is a game played by 11 and not 1″, if he had decided to be content with losing because “At least he got to play with his friends one last time”, he wouldn’t have ever stepped foot in Blue Lock, or even been invited.

Teamwork is not the end goal here. “Working together” to win is not the goal. Playing as a team is not the goal. The goal is to simply be better than everyone else, and that includes the people you’re working together with.

Isagi’s egoism is entirely selfish and it isn’t rooted in his own ability, it exists simply because he wants to win and he feels like he deserves to because he, like Ego Jinpachi, felt that he shouldn’t have relied on others to try and win that game.

In a sense, Isagi’s egoism is almost like that of a villain rather than a hero. He doesn’t become this way after failing over and over again, but rather because he passed the ball in a moment where he could’ve scored. He held himself back so he could play “as a team” and he regrets it.

So Blue Lock’s protagonist is one that is different from others in the shounen category because unlike the others, he’s a selfish, egotistical person right from the beginning and he has no intentions of ever changing that. In fact, throughout the manga he just gets “worse” at this, and all the moments he does score goals are because of this selfish nature of his.

[cherryxcadbury]

𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭

A Mason Mount Imagine…

Your Name: Farah

1st Person POV

"Why do we even have to be here again?" I asked my best friends Bukayo Saka and Lotte Norris.

"This is my international debut for the senior team Farah! I need my two best friends here!" Saka responded.

"I know, I know. But I think it would've been a better idea for me to stay home and watch the match on the tele." I suggested.

"What? Why'd you watch it on the tele when I'm getting you seats so close to the field?" Saka questioned with confusion.

"She's nervous for you obviously. Look at her." Lotte informed.

"Lotte's right." I confirmed.

"Why are you nervous for me?" Saka queried.

"Okay well don't take this the wrong way because I know you'll do great but it's very probable that you'll mess up even if you go on for five minutes. And I'm very nervous that said mess up will happen and I just really want you guys to win. But you'll be fine, I'm sure of it." I rambled.

Saka just shook his head and chuckled before giving Lotte and I hugs. He then left to the changing room to be with his teammates, while we made our way to our seats where Bukayo's family was seated.

Bukayo's father and I were sharing our concerns about him. Of course we believed in him, we were just very nervous for him at the same time.

"He's been training with the guys for a while. I'm sure he'll fit right in." Lotte soothed.

Within twenty minutes, the game started and was scoreless all throughout the first half. Lotte and I constantly discussed the starters, hoping that Bukayo would come on in the second half.

"Mount and Sterling had the first half." Bukayo's mother stated.

"Definitely. They played two perfect balls to Foden. I'm surprised he couldn't deliver like he usually does." Lotte agreed.

"Wait. Which one is Mason Mount?" I asked.

Upon that question being asked, I received confused looks from Lotte and Bukayo's family.

"You Farah, of all people don't know who Mason Mount is?" Bukayo's dad questioned.

"No of course not! I know who he is, but right now I'm kind of confusing him and Rice." I defended, earning a chuckle from the others.

Lotte, Bukayo, and I bonded over our love of football in primary school. We used to play all the time as kids before Lotte got more into running. Her love of football never ceased though. Bukayo and I played for our respective youth clubs, but football was not my goal in life. As much as I loved the sport, I mainly played it to help me get into a good university. What I really wanted was to become a journalist. Now, at 19, Lotte and I had gotten into university. Lotte for arts and I for writing. Bukayo was truly talented and went pro, even though he had the option to go to university with us. Nonetheless, we were by each other's sides no matter what.

About ten minutes later, the second half was in full swing. We watched with close examination as Sterling managed to pass the ball off to Kane who unsurprisingly kicked it into the back of the net. Lotte and I looked at each other to make sure we weren't seeing things. We weren't.

Us and the rest of the England fans got up and screamed at the top of our lungs, something I normally didn't do. I guess Lotte, Bukayo's family and I were so loud we got some looks from the players on the field. It wasn't that big of a surprise because we were so close to the field.

"Hey. Remember your question from earlier?" Lotte reminded.

"Uhm yeah?" I replied, not really remembering what she was talking about.

"Well you see that guy looking at you? He's Mason Mount." Lotte whispered.

"Lotte what are you—" I started before stopping.

I turned to see a young man on the field smiling at me, laughing with the player next to him. I recognised Mason now, he'd been darting up and down the field the whole game, trying to create chances for goal scoring opportunities.

Unsure of what to do, I turned to Lotte who instructed me to nod and smile back. I did as so and received a nod and an even brighter smile in return. We held eye contact for what felt like hours until I eventually pulled away, shifting my gaze to my lap so I couldn't be seen blushing.

"You should wave." Lotte suggested.

"No way. Not at all. Nope." I rejected her idea.

"Well Mount's cute isn't he?" Lotte spoke.

"He's really handsome." I murmured.

"He's 22. Young and fit." Lotte brought up absentmindedly.

"22? He's old!" I replied, trying to rid her thoughts of Mason and I.

"22 old? No way! He's only three years older than us. That's practically nothing Farah." Lotte denied.

"Bukayo often talks about how nice Mason is. Obviously he‘s an amazing player as well." Saka's father added.

"Were you listening to our conversation Uncle?" Lotte inquired.

"Yes obviously. And uh for the record, I think Farah and Mason would make a nice pair. Especially with that eye contact they just exchanged." Bukayo's dad winked.

I groaned and covered my eyes to hide from the embarrassment.

"Farah! Bukayo's coming on!" Lotte cheered.

"No way! Oh my god!" I shouted, as our whole group cheered, filling with more excitement.

I looked to the field to see Bukayo hugging Kalvin Phillips before touching the ground and proceeding onto the field.

I pressed my hands together and silently prayed for Bukayo's talent to be showcased tonight. Everything was going well for England, they had about 75% possession and had come close to scoring several goals. We continued to patiently wait for the whistle or another goal, preferably from England.

Then at the 89th minute, Bukayo broke out into a sprint and received the ball from Chilwell. Bukayo dribbled up the field, battling a midfielder on each side. He eventually managed to pass it to none other than Mason Mount, who gambled by taking a hard strike at the ball right before he got into the box. He kicked it in the top right corner, it was a screamer. Mount had scored with an assist from Bukayo.

"HE ASSISTED!" I screeched with Lotte and Bukayo's family.

We were ecstatic and proud. It felt like we were on Cloud 9, I was just so proud of my best friend.

"WE LOVE YOU BUKAYO!" Lotte shrieked, jumping up and down.

****

The game had eventually ended, and I was walking with Bukayo towards Lotte and his family. We'd been waiting in the tunnels outside the changing rooms. When I saw Bukayo I ran towards him to give him a huge hug. I was proud of my best friend.

"Oh my days you played so well Bukayo! Imagine what you'll do on your next call up if this was only your debut! I'm so proud." I complimented.

"I know. Some of the guys and I could hear you and Lotte screaming. I feel very privileged that you were willing to leave your shyness behind and scream like Lotte just for me." He teased.

I scoffed, before I could get a word in, I found myself colliding with a body.

"God I'm so sorry." I apologised, looking to see who I bumped into.

"No worries mate. Oh hey! It's you! I know you!" The guy greeted gleefully.

"You know me? I know you but you know me?" I repeated.

"Yeah! Mase pointed you out earlier. Said you were very pretty. I saw your little interaction, very cute! Also Bukayo was talking about you and Lotte. Nice to meet you Farah!" Declan Rice smirked.

"Well it's nice to meet you too Declan. Great game!" I smiled.

"Thanks! Wait a second, Mase get over here!" Declan hollered.

I tried to stop him, "Uhm no stop! What are you doing? He doesn't need to come over here!"

"Course he does mate! I saw the way you two looked at each other." Declan replied.

I looked around for Bukayo who'd managed to magically drift over to Lotte and his family. I shot him a "Save me" look, but him and Lotte just smirked.

Before I could do anything else, we were joined by another person. The one and only Mason Mount.

"What's up Deccers?" Mason asked, smiling.

Declan motioned to me, I just stood there biting my lip. I was a little intimidated. Being 5'7 it didn't mean I was scared of their heights, but they were famous footballers for Christ sake!

Mason looked at me and his smile grew wider.

"I'll leave you two alone then." Declan whispered.

"Hi, I'm Mason." He greeted, extending a hand.

I shook his hand and sent him a coy smile, "I know who you are. I'm Farah. You had a beautiful goal today. Great game."

He beamed, "Thanks! You too!"

I giggled and waited for him to realise his error. I held in my laughter upon seeing his face of realisation.

"Oh erm I mean uh—" He started.

I interrupted him, "No worries. It's okay. I'm kinda nervous talking to you to be honest."

Mason looked relieved, "You're nervous? Really? Because so am I! I mean typically I don't get nervous talking to people but Bukayo talked so well of you and I mean i sometimes get nervous in front of beautiful people like you but really that's not the point and uhm I hope you get what I mean."

"You think I'm beautiful?" I blushed.

Mason nodded sheepishly, "Well I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but yeah I do. I thought you kinda got the message on the field but maybe not. Which is cool too, really."

The conversation soon fell silent, the two of us looked at each other and began laughing. We talked for a few more minutes and I learned that he was actually quite an interesting person. He was so sweet and told me how much he enjoyed spending time with his family in Portsmouth.

"Mase! It's best that we get going right about now!" Declan called.

Mason nodded and turned to me before speaking.

"You know Farah, I really have enjoyed talking with you and I was wondering that maybe if you're free, you can come as my plus one to our sort of after party. It's being thrown by Harry Kane and Kate so it'll be completely safe. I know that Bukayo is using Lotte as his plus one, and I'd love to keep talking to you if you came. It's really up to you though, so don't feel pressured. At all. Just a suggestion." Mason babbled.

I chuckled at how nervous Mason was, "I'd love to come Mason."

Mason grinned, "Great! So do you want me to drive you or you might feel more comfortable going with Bukayo..."

"Uhm if you don't mind, I'd be fine going with you." I mumbled.

Mason nodded and grabbed his things while I told Bukayo and Lotte Mason was driving me.

"Right well we'll see you in a bit Farah!" Bukayo said.

"Be safe! And be protected!" Lotte whispered.

I looked at her horrified, "Lotte! You can't say those things in public."

"Oh cut the whole good girl act. The three of us all know you're thinking what I'm thinking." Lotte winked.

I shook my head and met Mason at the door. He opened the door for me and I was met with a gust of frigid wind. I shivered slightly.

"Damn it's cold." I thought to myself.

Upon seeing my discomfort, Mason wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I leaned my head on his shoulder as we walked to his car.

"Thanks." I mumbled.

"Don't mention it." He replied, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

While outwardly, I pretended that nothing had happened, internally I was freaking out. Sure it was just a kiss on the forehead, but that was one step closer to an actual first kiss. Which I had yet to have.

When we eventually got to the car, Mason was quick to open the door for me before I got in. I smiled as we closed the door after I got in, then went to get himself into the driver's seat.

"And I thought chivalry was dead." I complimented.

"Oh it is. I'm just an exception." He winked.

Soon enough, we found ourselves conversing rather easily. Our topic of discussion eventually shifted to food. Fast food in particular.

"You really mean you've never had Nando's?" Mason quizzed with disbelief.

"I've never had it!" I answered honestly.

"Alright pit stop. We're stopping at Nando's. There's one next to the petrol station before Harry and Kate's house." Mason announced.

I laughed and shrugged my shoulders, subsequently sending a text to Bukayo and Lotte to let them know.

Within twenty minutes, we were seated at a Nando's with Mason spreading the various dishes he'd gotten for me to try, all across the table. We'd been interrupted by football fans several times already, but I didn't mind especially since Mason was constantly apologising for it.

"This is your usual order?" I asked, looking at all the food which included chicken, chips, rice and more.

Mason nodded as he started eating his chicken, "Why?"

"How can you eat this and stay so fit?" I responded.

He chuckled, "Oh. It's a lot of calories to burn every time I eat it."

I just shook my head and started on my food. After my first bite, I looked up to see Mason looking at me expectantly.

"Okay. This isn't half bad." I admitted, giggling when Mason pumped a triumphant fist in the air.

"I'll have you obsessed with Nando's in a few weeks time." Mason promised.

"You intend to see me again?" I repeated, taken aback by his forwardness.

"Well on Saturday. I'd love to take you out on a real date. A nice, fancy, pre planned one like you deserve." Mason explained.

"I'd like that." I nodded.

Mason grinned stared into my eyes. He began leaning in before I interrupted.

"So what happened to the Mase that kept fumbling over his own words a while ago." I smirked.

"He's right here. He just had a momentary lapse a few hours ago. He's normally very charismatic like he is right now." Mason winked.

I raised my eyebrows and continued laughing.

"Now uh, do you mind if I kiss you?" He suggested.

Instead of responding with words, I leaned over the table and when his lips met mine, it was like magic.

[dreamhot]

I think a big reason I used to dislike dream was because he reminded me a lot of cryaotic with the “brand” and everything. The only time I’d ever heard of dream before I got into dsmp was from cry actually. On a stream a bit before the whole thing came out about him, he joked about how similar their stuff was to each other minus what they were known for.

So for a good year or so that was all the knowledge I had of dream and I was very happy to avoid him if he was anything like cry. Then I got into the dsmp lore around October last year and it’s history now. I’m pretty sure I only started to hear actual negative things about him once I joined the fandom surprisingly, and that affected a lot of my viewpoint of him before I decided to give him a shot in like December I think.

Idk i know I’m not the only who’s probably had this experience, but as far as hating on Dream goes, I feel like people who saw the situation play out have a right to be wary when all they hear about him from the outside is how shitty he is y’know? Even the people that used to be involved with cry content wise don’t have the best opinion of him.

gonna put this under a cut cos i'll be talking a bit about the cry situation. cw abuse mentions, dream crit

i never watched cry myself, but back when i was into some let's players circa 2013 i was definitely aware of his name. i had friends in those fandoms who watched him, and we stayed mutuals throughout the years, so i witnessed the fallout when everything blew up. i don't think i knew who dream was when the cry situation came to light, so i wasn't even aware of the similarities until much later. i definitely had a period of thinking that dream ought to change his branding if it so closely mirrored that of a known abuser, but at the time i didn't realise that dream made those choices before cry got outed, which lessened some of my discomfort

i do think some of the decisions dream made regarding his handle & look (ik the mask was a fanon design, not his) might have been deliberate parallels, but i also don't blame him for trying to sweep that under the rug now. it's not like the branding was created when cry's reputation was in the gutter - that would come later - so i can see why dream would want to pretend like he had little idea of who cry was at all, so as to shake those associations regardless

it can't be easy to make these subtle references to a big popular gamer in your branding, only for that gamer to be outed as a despicable human RIGHT as you're cresting that wave to stardom. i can only assume it would've put dream in an extremely awkward position - either change your whole look right as you're getting huge, or distance yourself from that situation as much as possible and feign ignorance. was it necessarily the best choice? i can't really say. suffice to say that more people will now think of dream before cry when they see the url suffix 'wastaken' or a little blank faced sprite, so dream has effectively overwritten some of those negative associations. which, i suppose, has its pros & cons as well

ultimately, i agree that it's fair that people who were more aware of (or involved in) the cry scandal would be wary of dream, as outsiders looking in. their opinions might still change if they were to give dream a chance, but i do sympathise with that kneejerk discomfort. what cry did was horrid, and it can't be easy to see someone else going around with similar branding - especially with such a huge, young audience. i would still encourage people to get informed about dream's actual nature in hopes of easing those concerns, but that's one group whose distrust i understand more than others

(however, i don't think most of the people who hate dream feel that way cos of cry - that's just something they find out about and then use as fodder for their distaste. that's the sort of thing i have more of a problem with myself lmao)

[richardsphere]

Seeing as the poll is literally inviting comments: Chloe wasn't made "irredeemable" she just wasn't redeemed (and hopefully wont be). There is a significant distinction.

Now lets start by saying: I have a horse in this race. Growing up in a household where forgiveness seven-times-seventy-times was the Literal Gospel, and being told in school to "just give them a second chance"while the teachers never did anything about my bullies and the TV kept showing me cartoons where children eventually got to know their bullies as people and sometimes even grew beyond their bully-ness and became good friends left me in a bad place mentally in childhood. Personally I think that makes me more qualified to speak on the subject of the dangers of preaching endless second chances to children, but I understand that some may decry personal experience as a form of bias instead. If you do believe experience is bias, Then you can consider these Biases hereby formally disclosed. That being said: I am personally absolutely god-damn sick of children's media saying "just give your bullies and abusers a second chance, Because if you just give them enough second chances they'll turn their life around and stop being pieces of shit". Its the sort of pro-abuser propaganda that raises children to try and fix their tormentors. Children should be taught that it isn't their responsibility to fix their bullies and I love miraculous for sending the right message in that regards.

Chloe's arc was a humanization arc, not a redemption arc. And that is exactly the right arc for the intended child-audience. Telling kids that people like her are still people and how they come to be that way lets her serve as a warning not to become like her. But a redemption arc would've inevitably told kids the wrong lesson. That it is up to the victim to fix their abuser.

So compared to literally every other piece of childrens media I had growing up? This show would get a 10/10, no notes no demerits. Having the characters say "fuck the bitch" and putting her on a plane to New York is the perfect way of telling hopeless children victim to real-life Chloe's that: 1- It isnt their responsibility to fix your abusers. And possibly more importantly: 2- At some point in the future, There will be a Post-them era in their life. An idea that I need to stress, for a child of that age, can seem entirely alien if they've spent years going to school with them, doing everything right, going to the teachers and still nothing ever changes... The idea that one day you wont be trapped in a building with your abuser every day forever is a notion that I personally, at that age, could not really grasp in a meaningful way beyond the purely-hypothetical. The idea of a post-bully future would've seriously done great for my mental health if I'd seen it on the TV even once growing up. I cannot imagine the amount of children who wouldn't struggle half-as-much as I did with the idea of Suicide as Escape if they got to see the idea of a world "after" their bullies in their media at that age. And it is at this point in this little improvised essay that I realise that V5 ends in the wish... a giant magical retcon button that will no doubt result in Chloe having never left Paris in the first place... so that message of hope that "even this will come to pass" probably wont last for the shows audience...

Now to preempt the inevitable subject of hypothetical future story-lines: I'm honestly completely indifferent to the idea of a potential future redemption arc, as long as the show manages to make such a hypothetical arc clearly not Marinette's or any other victims responsibility, and makes it clear that her victims have no moral obligation to forgive her for a lifetime of torment.

Assuming those bars are both met I wouldn't care one way or another, Unfortunately although that bar is set so low its literally underground... it's nonetheless a bar I don't believe the show would be willing/able to clear if it came to it (for structural and formulaic reasons). So I'm Happy with where Revolution left Chloe's character-arc... but deeply afraid that the Reset Button of the Wish has already been pressed and Chloe Stans might get their dreaded redemption arc anyway.

[arhvste]

☼just until i win☼

WRITTEN CHAPTER

an - everyone say thank you atsumu <3

-

y/n shuffled reluctantly over to her door and slowly opened it to reveal a concerned looking atsumu with a plastic bag in one of his hands.

nothing was said between the pair as y/n moved out the way to let him in. he placed the bag down on the coffee table nearby and turned to the girl. still nothing said between the two, atsumu pulled her into his chest as y/n sobbed quietly into his t-shirt.

after 2 minutes of y/n quietly hiccuping and allowing her tears to fall, atsumu pulled away and looked down at her sighing.

“ya know, ya really worry me sometimes.” 

y/n could only nod slightly as she wiped away the tears remaining on her cheeks as she finally registered the plastic bag on the table.

“what's that?” she mumbled gesturing towards the coffee table. 

atsumu smiled slightly and picked it up to bring to the larger dining table. 

“samu couldn't sleep till he felt like he did somethin for ya. believe it or not, he’s just as worried as me and everyone else. i had to force shouyo and bokkun not to follow me.”

guilt strung through y/n’s chest as she apologised quietly before sitting down opposite the pro player.

“don't apologise, its understandable, i’m just glad ya even opened the door for me.”

“i know you would've stood there all night if i didn't.”

atsumu smiled towards the athletics trainer and began to take out the contents inside. osamu had cooked multiple types of onigiri. ones he knew atsumu liked and ones he knew y/n liked. 

the two ate in a comfortable silence as atsumu allowed the girl to gather her thoughts. the last thing he wanted to do was pressure her into talking to him about what she was thinking and feeling. he knew she would eventually tell him anyway he had all the time in the world for her to tell him.

10 minutes of a slightly warmer atmosphere between them, y/n sniffled and turned away.

“y/n?” atsumu reached over softly.

“no -shit. i-i’m sorry. this is so pathetic i shouldn't even be crying over this, i should've seen it coming from the start.”

ah so she was in the stage of self blame.

“y/n, none of this was your fault okay?”

the girl didn't care at this point and let her tears flow down her cheeks freely as she turned back to face the artificial blonde.

“yeah b-but if i’d just maybe gotten through to him better or maybe just i don't know -broken up with him, none of this would've happened!”

the setter watched as he let y/n let her emotions out. he didn't plan on riling her up. he needed her to get out whatever she was holding in so he could get through to her on a clearer mind.

“y/n, listen to me.”

stopping her quiet sobs for a moment, y/n looked up at a very genuine looking atsumu.

“i get yer a people pleaser and you’d rather take responsibility when somethins not even yer fault but, none of this was yer fault.” atsumu watched as y/n visibly relaxed at the sound go his voice.

this was a start.

he sighed and took her hands into his one and gave them a light squeeze.

“but, i don't believe this was oikawa’s either.”

y/n’s eyes widened slightly as she opened her mouth to object but atsumu didn't give her the chance.

“ah- i know ya probably think i’m just sayin that to stop you from arguing anymore but listen to me.”

the girl relaxed back into her chair, and nodded slightly for atsumu to continue.

“i know ya don't want to look at the picture, in fact its probably the last thing yer gonna wanna look at, but from what it looks to me, its one-sided. ya can tell he’s clearly uncomfortable and in shock.’

y/n frowned slightly trying to remember the awful photo but her memory was so blurred from the strong emotion and endless tears she couldn't actually remember oikawa’s expression in the photo.

“he still met up with her though.” 

atsumu sighed and ran a hand through his slightly messy hair.

“yeah but personally i think he did the right thing. i know its gonna be hard to see things from his point of view but, he handled this well. sure, he wasn't flawless when it came to communication with ya but ya gotta give him some credit for going out his way. he has a lot going on right now and the last thing he probably wanted was a twitter war between his fans, reporters, her fans and herself. seeing her in person was probably one of the best ways to make it clear he wanted nothin to do with her.”

y/n didnt speak for a few moments as she registered what the boy in front of her had just said. yeah it was easy to get angry at how the situation had turned out but was that really all oikawa’s fault. 

“atsumu-” y/n began with a shaky breath.

“i get that you’re trying to help me but what you don't know is that he tried to turn this on us. he accused me of cheating with you even though his only source of evidence was fake tabloids that have obviously reached for any material they can to feed off our names. like i said to him, how can he accuse me of cheating when he has no evidence but there’s actual evidence of him with another girl and he’s insistent i believe that he’s been faithful to me.” 

atsumu raised an eyebrow to this. oikawa really read those stupid tabloids? they were obviously fake, hell, the same reporters had even written a few tabloids linking him to sakusa much to the latters disgust. 

“but is that picture really evidence? i mean, from what it looks like he’s not into it and she’s the one initiating it. i’m not sayin what he said was fair but he’s probably frustrated and panickin. i’m not tellin ya to forgive him right now, but try to talk to him again when you've got yer thoughts together a bit more. it’s not fair to argue with him while yer both under a lot of pressure and emotions. i know for a fact that boy loves ya and ya know it too, ive never seen such a sappy and gross couple before whether yer like it or not this isn’t somethin yer gonna break up over.”

y/n hated to admit it but atsumu was right. maybe she had been a little unfair to pounce at oikawa straight away and hardly give him the chance to explain fully what had happened. had she been stupid enough to forget that oikawa struggles with stress and pressure and was prone to breaking down when things got to much.

a new wave of guilt washed over the girl as she closed her eyes and brought her head down to her knees.

“i feel awful now, oh my- i don't even want to imagine how he’s feeling right now fuck.”

atsumu stood up and crouched down in front of the now panicking y/n.

“look at me.”

glassy eyes stared into atsumu’s.

“we’ll try and get ya to meet him tomorrow, even if ya talk over the phone or somethin, but not tonight, it’s late and yer both need to rest yeah? i’ll stay on yer couch tonight but ya should get ready for bed and try to sleep.”

y/n thanked her lucky stars that she’d been blessed enough to have someone like miya atsumu storm into her life. 

she nodded and shuffled to her room to get ready as atsumu wandered over to the couch with a satisfied smile.

after 5 minutes, y/n came back to bid the setter a goodnight and an offer to return back to his room.

“nah, don't wanna leave ya just in case ya wake up stressed or somethin, i’ll be here i’m not going anywhere just call me if ya need me.”

y/n smiled and gave the setter a tight hug.

“thanks tsumu. you’re a lifesaver.”

“i know.”

the girl laughed slightly and pulled away before muttering one last good night to the boy who nodded and waved back smiling.

things had been rough today sure, but atsumu had managed to force her to see things from oikawa’s point of view and even take majority of the balme off of him. she was still angry sure, but things were different now. the anger totally directed towards oikawa had been redirected to herself and sakai but y/n could live with that.

the same way oikawa promised to fix things, y/n made a silent promise to herself that she too would fix things. she just had to wait for a new day to do it properly, the worst had passed all she could do now was move forward and the girl decided to take her first step that very second as she grabbed her phone.

just until i win

oikawa tooru x reader

masterlist

part 22 - empty promises

part 23 - atsumu

part 24 - online critic

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[2460nodone]

Trophies

Title: Trophies Category: Plays/Musicals » Les Misérables Author: AliceInSomewhereland Language: English, Rating: Rated: T Genre: Drama/Romance Published: 05-19-13, Updated: 05-19-13 Chapters: 1, Words: 3,671

Summary: They meet on their respective fields - his, baseball, and hers, soccer - and it changes everything. Enjonine modern AU for the Fic War on tumblr! Oneshot, rated T for language.

originally written for the e/e fic war and posted to ffnet. prompted with “soccer AU, baseball AU” by tumblr user samthenardier.

Chapter 1/1

He's not quite sure when he first noticed her.

Perhaps it was the weekend Courfeyrac hit the ball out of their diamond, and, as he played in the outfield, she reached him first to return it. He hardly paid her any mind, only nodding in thanks. She was clearly just as busy as he, covered in dirt and soaked with sweat, her shin guards smeared with grass stains.

Perhaps it was the weekend that it rained. Bahorel and Grantaire, playing on his team that weekend, were highly distracted when the women with whom she was playing declared their match to be shirts versus skins. She seemed to be the chief in insisting that it be the girls who played as skins, against the shirted boys.

The boys on his baseball team couldn't help but stare as the girls stripped, their shorts rolled low on their hips and clinging to their thighs in the rain, their tops bare, save for their soaked-through sports bras.

He noticed that she and her friends were frequently shooting glances in the direction of the baseball diamond, delighting and giggling when his teammates and opponents fawned over them.

Perhaps he noticed her the weekend that it was so hot they almost had to cancel – she, again, was shirtless, but this time her sports bra was soaked with sweat. They watched as she poured cold water over her face and head and shoulders – his teammates with hunger and desire, he with disinterest.

Perhaps it was the weekend he saw her running to their diamond, soccer ball under her arm and her hand entwined with another girl's, one with dusky skin and dark hair. They sat in the bleachers, watching and cheering and laughing. It was quite distracting. Afterwards, he watched as she made a beeline to Marius, just as Joly and Bossuet appeared to be racing to talk to her friend first.

He paid her little to no mind, though he did notice when she wasn't there sometimes, especially because his baseball team (and often their visiting competition) and the eternal pick-up soccer game that she participated in often went out for drinks together after their respective games were over. It seemed oddly quiet when she wasn't there, rare though that was, but it also irritated him when she was there, because she spent the whole damn time mooning over Marius and trying to get that freckled fool to pay attention to her.

He never bothered to interact with her; in fact, he didn't even know her name. Nor did he try to learn it. Whenever she came into his peripherals, he merely acknowledged her mentally as "Marius' Shadow."

However, everything changed when he was leaving the park one day, and came across her corned up against a tree, an older man who must have been her father screaming in her face as she cowed. When the man hit her across the face, he lost it.

He dropped his things, and suddenly he was next to her, then in between her and the man, then shoving the man away and shouting things that he didn't remember later. They tousled briefly, resulting in a bloody nose on his face and a black eye on the old man. The man stormed away, screaming and cursing at them.

When he turned, he didn't even have time to react before she slapped him sharply across the face. It left him momentarily dumb; he wasn't sure whether to pinch his nose to stop the bleeding or hold his smarting cheek. Then she was shouting at him.

"I don't want your help! I'm not some sort of damsel in distress that needs rescuing from some bourgeois knight in shining armor!" She shoved him, though it was hardly strong.

Her lip was bleeding and was starting to swell from where the man hit her.

Ten minutes later, he was in the dugout, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Hey," a voice said behind him, startling him. He turned, and there she was – fat lip, messy dark hair, long, thin legs and a torso hidden by an oversized jersey. She held a plastic bag in her hand.

He just sniffed blood, trying to keep it from running down his face more, and stared at her. He was hardly forgiving; if she resented his interference, he wouldn't interfere. He had a bloody nose and probably a black eye (try explaining that one at work tomorrow), all because he was trying to help her. So as far as he was concerned, they had no reason, especially now, to interact at all. He wanted nothing from her.

"Sit down," she ordered. Her tone surprised him; it reminded him of how his mother or his teachers would talk to him as a child. He wondered where she picked it up. Then he sat.

She put the bag on the bench beside him, digging around inside. From it, she pulled gauze, an ice pack, hydrogen peroxide, and band-aids. Without a word, she began mopping up the blood on his face.

"I'm sorry I slapped you," she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the blood that was still gushing from his nose.

He shrugged.

"It was my dad. It wasn't the first time," she told him quietly. He wondered why she was telling him this; from the look on her face, she was wondering the same thing. Then, "I'm Eponine. Eponine Jondrette."

He regarded her for a moment, and she finally met his eyes. They were a beautiful, bright brown, flecked with gold, but were dark and angry from the memories that were undoubtedly cycling through her mind. He looked at her lips; dried blood had trickled onto her chin, though she hadn't seemed to notice.

"Enjolras," he said. "Gabriel Enjolras."

Eponine's lips twitched into a small smile, then she got back to work on cleaning him up.

When she was finished, she threw the first aid supplies into her backpack. "I'll buy you a beer," she offered, "as a thanks – and an apology."

*

He's not quite sure why he kissed her.

It was several months after the day he fought her father.

They were heading off to the park together. His league's season was over, but he and his friends still met each weekend for pickup games. She had wormed her way into his friend group, and they had invited her along, eager to teach her how to play baseball. In return, she was going to teach them a little bit about soccer.

She met him on the corner near his apartment – it was more convenient for her to cut through his neighborhood to reach the park, as she lived a few blocks away.

"We need to run to my place," she said when he found her, not bothering to greet him. "I would've gone alone, but my phone was dead and I didn't want you to think I was ditching you.

Though they lived relatively close together, there was a marked difference between his neighborhood and hers. His was more affluent – he was a lawyer, the only son in a wealthy family, and therefore, his apartment was large and well decorated and safe.

Eponine's apartment, however, was one room of a giant, sketchy-looking complex. She joked that this was where the meth-heads came to die.

He worried for her safety.

Inside, however, she had done her best to make the place comfortable. It was colorful, but tasteful – very bohemian, but it worked because it was so Eponine.

She had hung curtains to separate her small bed from the rest of the room, and disappeared behind them for a few moments.

When she reemerged, she beckoned him over. "Enj, these are my soccer trophies from high school. I was being scouted for college, being offered scholarships and even full rides, but then I blew out my knee."

He hadn't known. He knew she was good, but not that she could have started in college. Nor did he know that her knee had ruined her opportunity to get out of – well, out of this life. It broke his heart; she could have truly been something quite incredible. She was smart, she was driven and talented, but lacking the resources to rise out of the life she so despised. To have come so close, only to have an ill-timed physical issue rip her chances away – he couldn't even imagine.

"That sucks, Ep, I'm so sorry," he told her sincerely.

She smiled warmly, though he could see a touch of bitterness in her eyes. "Whatever," she shrugged, "I have all these crazy trophies for my trouble!"

And she did. There must have been more than 30 of all colors and sizes, from participation awards to tournament placements to MVP's.

"My collection would totally kick your collection's ass," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "I was given a partial scholarship to play in college. I wanted to go pro. I didn't have time for anything else, not even girls. My entire life revolved around baseball and school."

She looked at him. "What happened?"

He stared straight ahead at a trophy she had won her sophomore year of high school for most valuable player. "My priorities changed," was all he said. He could hear the hardness in his own voice; out of the corner of his eye, he saw her searching for something on his face before she turned back towards the trophies. He cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said, reaching out and touching a medal, "all my trophies are at my parents' house."

"I like having mine home with me," was Eponine's soft reply.

He looked at her. There was a faraway look on her face, an absent smile on her lips. "They help me remember a time when I was happy." She seemed to be talking to herself now, and he wondered if she remembered he was there.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, all of a sudden, and he felt something building inside of him that was foreign and, if he had to admit it, a little frightening.

When she turned to him, a questioning look on her face and an inquiry forming on her lips, he kissed her, swallowing whatever it was she was about to say. She responded immediately against him, and he pulled her body flush against his instinctually when her lips parted against his.

*

He's not quite sure why he slept with her.

He had never been with a woman before.

And she was vulnerable; he couldn't shake the feeling that he had taken advantage of her.

Marius and his girlfriend, the perfect, blonde Cosette, had gotten engaged.

Eponine had showed up at his door, in tears and completely inconsolable. So he ordered pizza, and ran to the liquor store around the corner for a bottle of Jack.

Three hours later, she was straddling him on his couch and kissing him wildly, half the bottle abandoned on the table behind her.

The whole experience, as intoxicating and wonderful as it was, was like being with a hurricane. It was wet and strong and dangerous, but he loved every second of it.

When he woke the next morning, she was in his kitchen, dressed in one of his t-shirts, making breakfast.

She kissed him good morning.

*

He's not quite sure when he fell in love with her.

They were out all night.

It was a warm night, in the middle of spring, a summery breeze sweeping through her hair and toying with the hem of her dress as she skipped around him.

Eponine didn't want to go home, and had talked him into staying out with her all night and going down to the docks to watch the sunrise.

"I've never seen the city when it sleeps," she had said.

They weren't together, per se, but Marius was married and Eponine was putting him behind her and now whenever she saw Enjolras she kissed him. He didn't hate it.

They had sat on the docks, swinging their bare feet inches above the water.

She grabbed his hand, humming a song into the wind. She was being strange; it was that mix of happiness and sadness that he'd learned to associate with her. Like she's almost ready to be happy, almost ready to let go of her problems, but she just can't.

She took his hand as the pre-dawn sky turns purple.

She kissed his cheek and then his lips when it turns pink.

When it turned orange, its bright glow lights up her face.

When the sun broke free of the water, she laughed. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

And that was when he knew: he'd fallen for her.

*

He's not quite sure why she wouldn't let him save her.

Eponine was stubborn, and always refused his help. He frequently reminded her that it was his job to help people, that it was his calling, but she would just snap at him that "a calling is a thing for entitled bourgeois boys," and that those he was "called" to help did not always want it.

When her little brother died, hit by a car in the middle of the night, he was not sure she'd ever come back to him.

She pushed him away. Stopped seeing him, stopped meeting him for baseball or soccer, stopped coming to his games and stopped showing up to her own. She wouldn't even answer her calls. Nor would she talk to any of her other friends.

Musichetta, her soccer friend, and Joly were dating, and even Musichetta had not heard from her in weeks.

When he finally saw her again, her face was gaunt. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, and hadn't eaten in weeks. Her already thin frame clung to her bones, her cheeks were sunken in, her hair was dirty and unkempt, and her hollow eyes had dark circles.

He didn't know how to save her, but for god's sake he tried.

*

He's not quite sure why she left him.

It isn't fair – that's the only thought that's cycling through his mind right now.

He's been sitting in this chair for, well, he doesn't even know how long. His friends keep coming to check on him, but he barely hears them. They can't say anything helpful anyway. They don't know.

All he can think of is her, of those precious moments by her side, as he stares straight ahead.

Directly in front of him is her casket. And he can't take his eyes off it, off her lifeless body laying there for those attending the wake to gawk and cry over.

He can't cry, he can't eat, he can't feel. He briefly wonders if this was how it was for her when little Gavroche was killed, and if that was the straw that broke the camel's back in her life.

He wonders, much more extensively, why he couldn't save her. He was always reminding her that saving people was all he wanted to do. He just wanted to help.

Why hadn't he been able to help her?

It was a sunny afternoon. They were sitting on the stairs of her fire escape. She was under his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not everyone wants to be saved, Enj," she told him. "Not everyone will let you."

"As long as you let me save you, that's fine," he replied.

She said nothing for a long while. "It might be too late for that," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

And it was. It was far too late.

She was gone.

The only woman he had ever loved, ever cared for, ever had time for, was dead.

This was a woman who had opened up an entire new world for him, and he would never see her again.

He's not sure what comes next; now that he's lived in this world of hers, he isn't sure if he can live without her.

When he's angry at her, angrier than he's ever been before, he curses her name, screaming at her ghost for leaving him behind, for ruining his life.

He hates her; she destroyed everything about him, everything he was, and left this empty shell behind. He was fine before - he didn't know what he was missing, and ignorance truly was bliss. He was settled in his life. But then she appeared in it, and turned it upside-down.

He tries to breathe.

Azlema, her younger sister, walks up to him.

She wraps herself around him, and he lets her, squeezing her tightly. She, of course, knew Eponine too (in a way that his friends didn't), and just as he lost the love of his life, she lost her older sister - and her baby brother. So she understands.

"She loved you, Enjolras," Azelma murmurs, her voice shaking with emotion and thick with the tears that spill from her eyes. "I know she never told you, but she told me. She loved you, and she would've wanted you to know."

He cries.

*

He's not quite sure how he picks up the pieces.

It's been forever, but it's also been no time at all.

His nights are cold and lonely, and his days are torture.

Grantaire has moved in with him, though perhaps that wasn't the best decision on the part of his friends, as the other man is so full of anger and sadness himself that all they do is spend their time drinking.

Combeferre seems to catch on, because then he comes to stay, too.

Suddenly, he's forced to eat the food Combeferre has cooked. He's forced to look at Grantaire's artwork and give his opinions, he's forced to go to work and do a good job again.

He's forced to look at her photographs every day (but that one he does to himself), too. In them, she seems happy. She's bright and beautiful and alive. God, she used to be so alive, even when she was miserable, even when she was depressed. She could be in the worst mood, but being around her was like being in the middle of a beautiful storm.

He misses that.

Eventually, Courfeyrac convinces him to come play a pickup game.

It feels good, being back on the diamond. The power of the ball as it flies from his hand, the feel of the wind in his face as he runs from plate to plate. He especially likes being at bat, because smacking that fucking ball into oblivion is suddenly the most therapeutic thing.

And then the game is over and his friends leave and he's slamming his stupid bat into the ground, raging in the middle of the field, screaming at her at the top of his lungs and undoubtedly causing quite the scene.

He collapses, and then someone is there – Jehan, perhaps? – speaking to him, trying to calm him.

But what does it is Eponine.

No, she's not there, of course, but he sees her team playing soccer on the next field. Or maybe it's a different team, he isn't sure if her friends play here anymore.

He looks up into the overcast sky, closing his eyes to the clouds, and can almost hear her laughter carried to him on the wind.

He goes home, pulls out the trophies he took from her apartment and those he took from his parents' house. He places them in pairs around the apartment, wherever they fit - his next to hers and hers next to his wherever he can find the room for them.

"They help me remember a time when I was happy," she had said that first time he kissed her.

And she was right.

There they were, once again – playing baseball, playing soccer together, just like when they had become friends. This time, however, their endless games were in his apartment. But looking at their trophies together was, for some stupid reason, extremely comforting. It made him feel like she was there, in these dumb objects she had been so proud of.

He sees her in them. They make him think of her. And he misses her, he does, but she would want him to be okay.

She would want him to keep on playing, because she wasn't able to.

And that's exactly what he's going to do.

Fin.

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

Why I think a happy ending to BBC Merlin would've been worse

I've been wanting to make a post about the ending for a long time so here goes

Fair warning I am going to come for literally every single character except Mordred in this so feel free to completely scroll past if you don’t want negativity

For this I'm going to ignore that bad writing exists and just take everything at face value even though so much of s5 consists of bad writing

Ok first things first I have big issues with the ending and the last episode and I'm not really defending it

But

Here's the thing

If they had had a happy ending i would have been even more mad

Just picture it

Merlin gets Arthur to the lake in time and he gets healed and they go home

He legalises magic and everyone stands around applauding him happy and smiling because he's such a good king! Merlin is such a good and loyal little sorcerer! How wonderful he's been around all these years slowly destroying himself and everyone else and betraying his own kind to keep the dear king safe! A true hero!

Elyan's still dead and there is no mention of him.

Gwaine's probably still dead. He gets a quick funeral scene. Merlin looks a bit sad but he's happy! Arthur's alive! It was a noble sacrifice! (was it)

Except

This victory has come from killing a woman who Merlin betrayed a long long time ago and never once took responsibility for until he killed her

It comes from the death of an oppressed teenager who was desperately trying to do the right thing

Cos the thing about happy endings is you kind of have to earn them, and nobody in s5 except perhaps Mordred does

I am NOT saying anyone deserved what they got, I don't think anyone could do anything to deserve what Merlin in particular got

But everyone either does terrible things (Morgana, Merlin), causes terrible things to happen (Kilgharrah, Gaius, Merlin, Arthur) or is complicit in terrible things (the knights, Mordred, Gwen)

Just look at Gwaine reciting anti magic rhetoric like the good little soldier he is

Look at Percival who grew up in a place where magic wasn't banned disrespecting a sacred place

Look at Elyan- Oh yeah. Elyan's dead.

What happened to the wonderful band of commoners that were supposed to be so much better than the nobles that preceded them? Obedient followers, every one of them.

Leon... Leon's Leon. I don't think there's ever been any doubt what side he’s on

Gwen's all 'respect cannot be bought with blood'. I don't want to come for s5 Gwen. I love s5 Gwen for so many reasons and she got a terrible storyline and people hate on her enough already. But by becoming queen she became complicit in a whole bunch of stuff. I will give her the benefit of the doubt and say she probably didn't have enough space to change things. But she's never voiced any kind of pro magic opinions before. And I will not forgive that line. Magic users are out of choices. The monarchy is not. 

(Obviously she legalises magic after the series. Obviously she is a wonderful queen and everything is a thousand times better. She more than anyone deserves a chance at a good and happy ending and in the end I think and hope she will be happy.)

Morgana's a tyrant. By this point she doesn't care about legalising magic or fighting for the right thing, she just wants to hurt others as much as she has been hurt. I just feel sad for all the magic users who follow her genuinely believing in the cause.

Because this is the Pendragon's thing. They are incapable of setting aside their personal issues for the greater good.

And you can say that Arthur's been brainwashed into thinking all magic is evil but like. canon doesn't support that. Time and again he turns to magic to save his loved ones without any sign of conflict. He knows it's not inherently evil just like his father did. He's just afraid of letting that power out if his personal control.

And he might've. Because he's a good person. Whatever terrible things he causes or does or lets happen he and Gwen are still inherently good in a way Morgana and Merlin have lost sight of. (Of course in Arthur’s case in particular this comes from blissful ignorance to the reality of things soooo). I really believe he might've brought magic back in 5x05 to save Mordred but Merlin with his paranoia and prejudice took advantage of his blind faith in him and told him no.

Which brings me onto the point that Arthur should not be legalising magic to save a personal friend. Or because you learn your best bud has been using it to save your life. It should be because it is the right thing to do and it shouldn't take such a revelation to suddenly change your attitude towards continuing a genocide. (I could apply this to what presumably happens post s5 but I'm not going to)

So in the end it becomes tyrant versus tyrant, with poor Mordred stuck in the middle. They're both cruel and oppressive in their actions, the only difference is one is somehow still inherently good but is perpetuating a genocide and the other is unhinged and murderous but purports to be fighting for freedom. There is no right side which is why I don’t really blame Mordred for joining Morgana in the end. He felt as though he had nowhere else to go.

Somewhere in those three intervening years they all took a wrong turn. And honestly the quickest way to fix things was taking the Pendragons out of the equation. And sure, it would be lovely if Arthur could fix things. But I think whatever he did would've rung hollow by this point.

And as for Merlin? Well after a whole season of watching him pull this shit:

I would find the sight of him happily smiling after Gwaine's death, his glorious destiny achieved, nauseating, frankly.

To reiterate: this isn't me saying any of them deserved to suffer or die. This is me saying that for a happy ending to be the right choice you would have to rewrite s5, and honestly go back to the moment Merlin poisoned Morgana and make him choose differently, or else give her a shot at redemption.

And of course most of this really reflects so much more on the writers and their warped perception towards the oppression in the show than on the characters that I love so ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

[ma-gic-gay]

The kiss had complicated things.

Asking for an anullment had complicated it even more.

This was just supposed to be a marriage of convenience, a marriage built upon keeping Wiley safe from everything that could hurt him. Especially Nelle. They got married to protect him, so Michael could have a better chance in court against her.

After they won sole custody, the psycho bitch had kidnapped him after slashing Brook Lynn's throat. Thankfully, Michael had found them and saved Wiley.

That damn kidnapping is the reason Willow's thinking like this. Well, maybe one good thing came out of that besides extra quality family moments: her kiss with Michael after he'd brought their son back home.

Their son. Willow was officially adopting Wiley. Diane had the paperwork ready to go, all they had to do was sign it tomorrow and then her and Michael would always be in each other's lives, whether they wanted to or not.

She really wanted to be in his life in a bigger way than just a co parent for Wiley. As much as she loved that little boy, and there was no way to put the love she has for him into words, she didn't want to be the parent who's house he goes to on the weekends or a visitor to him. Granted, Michael would never let that happen. He was too kind, too perfect when it came to that, amongst other things. Michael wanted to make sure that their family stays just that, a family. Dysfunctional to an extent, yes, but a family.

It's almost like everyone is yelling for them to get together. Even his grandmother and brother who had met Willow ten seconds before saying how obviously happy she made his little brother.

Maybe she's just overthinking this. After all, Michael might still be in love with Sasha. It's completely possible; they were together for a long time.

But...

What if she's not? What if this isn't all in her head, and she's not freaking out and internally losing it over nothing? What if this is real, a genuine connection, and they're just throwing it away?

Dante said something about this when they'd met, in between quick witted remarks about the dysfunction she had married into. He'd actually said a lot of important things, she thinks.

"I'd ask my little brother if you make him happy, but you obviously do. I can see it written all over his face," Dante had said as soon as they were introduced.

Michael had brought up getting an annulment as opposed to a divorce, which she explained had been in part because they didn't have any irreconcilable differences. "Well, I just got here, so what do I know, but you two seem pretty happy together. And compatible- genuinely, that's a rare thing! But you guys know what's best for you guys."

She couldn't believe it. Each day, their family moments, it felt more and more like normal. Her broken heart had mended, she knew it. When she had to speak to Chase the other day, she didn't feel like she was in love with him anymore. She could look him dead in the eyes and still not feel that spark.

It was a confusing situation in general, with Michael having asked for an annulment after saying how great she was and kept looking at her with that look, the half smile and loving eyes.

How she loved that look. It was becoming a favorite thing of hers, seeing him look at her like that. She didn't know what it was, but if anyone was going to, she figured it would be Dante.

Or she could ask Michael himself. After all, they always promised to tell the truth to each other no matter what happened. Honesty and trust were the foundation of their marriage. Despite the fact it would be ending a lot sooner than she would've liked, they were still married. Rules still applied.

And that's how she ended up waiting anxiously in the foyer for her husband to come home. "Hello, Willow. What are you doing?" Dante asks when he walks in the door. "I mean no offense by that, of course, it's just you look like you've got something on your mind. Or, rather, someone. You also look like Lulu back when we were just married and she was so excited to see me at home, so I'm going to guess you're looking for Michael and have something important to tell my little brother."

"I can't get anything past you," she chuckles softly. Dante genuinely cared about the people around him and who made his family happy, that she could see easily.

"So why are you waiting for my brother?"

Willow takes a deep breath, sitting on one of the stairs so she stops pacing. "Well, you look like there's something on your mind. Wanna talk about it?"

Dante let's out a quiet laugh. "You don't want to go first, fine, I will. I just saw Lulu at the Floating Rib. She was there for Maxie's engagement party, I guess. Something I was not invited to, since she didn't know I was back in town. Anyways, we were chatting and then Dustin walked in. He was talking about a PTA meeting. I knew they were serious, but I had no clue that they were serious enough he's on the PTA."

"Dustin's not on the PTA, he's a teacher. He had to make a presentation. I know because I'm a teacher too. I get kids who have been transfers from his school." Willow informs him, watching as relief goes over her brother-in-law's face.

"That's good, but still. He then offered to start getting to know me, practically insinuating that I'm just some dude he has to deal with in Lulu's life. It feels like a bad love triangle, the first of many you'll experience as Wiley's mother. I don't know, I don't like the guy," Dante sighs.

"I don't know if this will make you feel any better, but to be honest, his reviews are meh at best. The kids like him, for sure, but I don't know. Haven't made up my decision about him yet," she smiles.

Smiling back, Dante says, "Well, you've got to tell me now. What are you so desperate to tell Michael you're pacing like a newlywed who needs sex?"

She bursts out laughing. "You're blunt, Dante. Lulu isn't going to pick Dustin, you know that."

"It's Lulu Spencer. I'd like to think I know her, but I don't know. She's... Changed since I last saw her. In a good way, but still, change is change. Peter offered me a job where we might be working together, so there's that. Anyways, enough of me. You're not getting out of talking about Michael anymore."

Willow playfully glares at Dante. "Fine. I'm going to tell him that I don't want an annulment."

A huge smile breaks out onto Dante's face. "Thank God, I was half convinced you weren't going to tell him or he wasn't going to tell you."

"Wait, Michael doesn't want one either?" Willow asks, confused. He had been sending mixed signals for a while now, but so had she. Her feelings were... Complex, that'd be the ideal phrase to describe them. She didn't know if she loved him yet, nor did she want to rush into that or anything, but there was an attraction she couldn't shake to him.

"Wow, Willow. You're both the most oblivious people on the planet. You're perfect for each other," Dante laughs. "Of course he doesn't want an annulment! Have you seen the way he looks at you lately? That's not how you look at your friend, or convenient wife. That's how you look at someone you love! I've only seen the two of you together a couple of times, but my big bro instincts are telling me that he's doing his thing where he doesn't go for what he wants."

Willow laughs along with him. "That's so frustrating, right? He won't allow himself to have anything good without overthinking it."

As they're laughing, Michael walks in. "What's so funny?" He asks Willow and Dante, confused.

"It's not even really funny, it's just that- Michael, I'm going to let you two speak for a minute. I've got to get to... Somewhere that's not here," Dante excuses himself.

That was weird, Michael thinks as Willow stands. "Is it just me or is he asking weird?"

Willow smiles, "He's not, but we do have to talk."

Taking a deep breath, Michael nods his agreement. "Okay, you wanna go to the living room so we can sit for this conversation, because I've got something to tell you too."

"Me first," Willow says as she sits on the couch next to him. "Michael, I don't want an annulment."

Michael breathes a sigh of relief, "Can I ask why?"

"If you still want to get one, of course we'll get one. But I don't want to. I want to stay married to you and not just because of the house and not cooking or cleaning, which are huge pros. I want to stay married to you because you're kind and loving. You always treat me with respect I didn't know I deserved until we got married. Chase was- he was great, but you don't put work before me, or your family. Family is the most important thing to you, not work or money or any of that stuff. You love Wiley as much as I do, and you're the only person who understands what it's like to be dealing with this stuff as a parent, and as a person. He's not just something that comes with me for you, he's someone important and who you love. I don't feel like I'm a second choice, or that I'm too needy, or that I've got to reschedule my plans so you can do something. And with Chase, it didn't always feel like that. You found out about something I loved and instantly found a broker to get the best wine selections because you wanted me to be able to have that back. Look, what I'm trying to say is I like you, Michael."

There's a quiet in the room as Michael takes in everything Willow just said to him. "As in romantically?" He asks, still processing what he just heard from her.

"Yes, romantically. And I get it if you don't feel the same, it's just that I feel like you might because you're acting like you're into me sometimes and you did say that I was everything you could've hoped for so I guess I just wanted to say this. I Also, Dante was surprisingly helpful in getting me to be able to say this to you," Willow smiles anxiously at the man sat next to her on the couch.

His brain is going a million miles an hour, trying to properly process everything. Willow can't deal with the silence, however, and starts rambling: "If you're trying to think of an easy way to let me down, Michael, just do it flat out. No harm, no foul. It doesn't change what I feel, but it will make me feel less embarrassed about putting you in such an uncomfortable situation."

"You done?" Michael half smirks, and she nods before he kisses her, soft yet perfect. Willow can feel herself falling in love with this kiss, which is arguably better than the other two they've had, as fantastic as they've been.

When they pull away, Michael gives her the look again. It's more intense, but she's realized he's always got it when he's talking to her. "Willow, I like you a lot. I've liked you since we first met, and honestly, I don't know if I ever entirely stopped. The only reason I suggested the annulment is because I knew it would take some time, and because I wanted to know if you wanted to stay married. In my mind, I've always hoped it'd turn out with us together, no matter how real what we both had with Chase and Sasha was. It took me until you accepted my proposal- which, by the way, was absolutely terrible and I'm sorry for that- to realize that I really like you. So I'll call Diane and tell her to call off the annulment."

She smiles. "What does this mean for us, Michael? I can't live in this state of limbo forever."

"I don't know right now. Let's give it a time limit for the state of limbo: Wiley's 2nd birthday. It's a few months away, which is plenty of time to figure it out and still not feel like we're rushing through anything."

"Sounds... Perfect."

You should post this!!!

[wickedbarnes]

𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖊 (Pt. 4) | John Wick x Reader

Part 3

WARNING: Angst. Blood.

NOTE: If there are any med student readers here, I apologize deeply if there's any inaccuracy when it comes to the age of finishing med school and I'm sorry if you're triggered that the reader didn't take up her residency training right away. Basically, I apologize for any medical inaccuracy in this chapter. I'm no med student so please be gentle :(

--

You knew the Continental very well and what it does and what it caters for. You had been here once when Viggo had visited Winston and as much as he hated you being here with him, he had no choice at the time. You were around ten and you could remember some assassins looking at you with piercing cold eyes. That's what you felt right now walking alongside John. You knew the stares were meant for him but you couldn't help but feel that most of them were meant for you.

In the back of your mind, it wouldn't be long for Viggo to find out that John has you. You wouldn't say that he's holding you hostage since you willingly went with him. You could only imagine the bounty that will be placed upon his head. And somehow, you felt kinda guilty.

"Good seeing you again, John." A woman with jet black hair greeted John and looked at you for a moment before walking passed you.

"Perkins." John would say, greeting the woman.

"I'll have you for two night?" The concierge, which you remembered the name was Charon, asked John as his gaze averted to you.

"Depending on business it may be more." He replied and you took the time to look around the hotel, noticing that it changed quite a bit the last time you've been here. You met the eyes of some assassins who probably knew who you were or wondering why you were here with John Wick. If you were in their place you would've wondered the same.

"Let's go." John would tell you as he grabbed the key to your room before turning back to walk away from the reception desk with you when you two suddenly stopped when Charon spoke.

"And as always. It is a pleasure, having you with us again... Mr. Wick." Charon gave a knowing smile to John before he shifted his gaze to you.

"Same goes for you, Miss Tarasov. Welcome back to the Continental." You gave him a nod and forced a smile on your face at his words.

"Thank you, Charon."

The ride in the elevator was quiet. Even when John opened the door to your room, you hadn't spoke a word. You took the opportunity to look around the room and noticed there were two beds, which you were thankful for. John placed his stuff on the bed to the left while you made your way over to the window to watch the city outside.

"I couldn't risk you getting away. That's why I asked for a room with two beds." John spoke after some time as he watch you solemnly take in the scenery of the city.

You nodded at his words as your mind drifted back to your father and Iosef. You already knew Viggo had found out you weren't in the mansion anymore. You could only imagine how enraged he'd be and the circumstances he'd go to in order to get you back.

"I know you hate me right now, Y/N, but-"

"Who said I hated you?" You asked, cutting him off but kept your gaze in the window, "I don't hate you. In case you want to know."

John was taken aback by your words. And it frustrated him that you didn't somehow despise him for what he's about to do. It frustrated him on how calm you are in a situation like this. Somehow, he wanted to see you angry at him. He wanted to see at least fear in your eyes whenever you looked at him but there was none.

And that somehow made him more guilty than he already is.

"John, I can't promise you if you'll be safe here." John looked at you and you took his silence as a means to continue what you were going to say, "Papa would know by now that I'm gone and that you broke inside the mansion. He won't hesitate to place a huge bounty in your head. And if I'm not mistaken, maybe the bounty is worthy enough for someone to break the rules here in the Continental."

"I know that." He replied and you hummed softly in response.

"Y/N, why are you like this?" His question caught you off guard that you couldn't help but turn around to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." John snapped at you making you jump slightly as he stood up and slowly made his way towards you and you couldn't help but carefully back away from him each time he took a step closer.

John took note of your body language. You were intimidated. And to him, that's a good thing.

"Why are you so calm? Do you secretly want this to happen? Do you secretly want your brother dead, is that it?" His words emitted a gasp from your lips as you stopped and looked up at him, immediately forgetting your fear of him as anger slowly bubbled inside you.

"This is the last thing that I wanted, Wick." You spat, "If I wanted this to happen, I wouldn't have warned Iosef that very night he stole your fucking car. You have no idea what goes inside my fucking head everytime I lay my eyes on you. And you had absolutely no idea how hard it was for me to accept everything that's happening right now."

Your breathing became heavy and you willed yourself not to cry in front of him. You refused, absolutely refused to let him see that side of you. That weak side of you.

"I'm like this because as I've said, I already know what's going to happen. Anger is fueling inside of you, John, and you crave vengeance for what my brother did. If I asked you, begged you even to stop all of this right now and return me to my home, would you do it?" Your question took John off guard once again but his expression surprisingly didn't falter but his silence caused you to laugh bitterly at him.

"I thought so." You whispered and walked passed him as you made your way to your bed, sitting down at the edge of it as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

John stood there and let your words sink inside his head. But a tiny voice told him that this was no time to linger around and feel bad for the Tarasov girl. Without saying a word, John made his way out your room and made sure the door was locked from outside.

Once he was out of earshot, you finally let out a sob as the tears that started to well up in your eyes cascaded down your cheeks. Your body shook as you cried hard and much to your knowledge, John heard your little whimpers just in time he made his way inside the elevator.

And somehow, he felt a slight pain in his chest when he heard your cries. Because he knew deep down it was because of him. The guilt was seeping more into his veins.

--

John did his best to put pressure on his wound. This wasn't anything he hadn't experienced before but it still hurt like a bitch. Unfortunately, the doctor wasn't in. So John had to make do on stitching his wound on his own and he wasn't really a pro with that and he doubted you'd even help him.

Upon opening the door, he stumbled his way inside and locked it behind him as he took a deep breath, trying to readjust his vision since he was losing blood after all. He could feel his legs shaking and soon, he found himself collapsing on the sofa. The sound had made you jump in your sleep.

Fluttering your eyes open, you had tried to remember what time you had fallen asleep. You sighed at the thought of crying yourself to sleep. Sitting up in your bed, your gaze fell on a beat up John who was clutching his wound. You stared at him for a moment before you carefully stood up from your bed and slowly made your way towards him.

"May I?" You asked softly as John looked up at you. In his vision, everything was a blur but your face, as cliché as it sounded.

He gave you a nod and carefully removed his hand where you took the chance to inspect his wound. The stab was deep and if he lost anymore blood he'd be unconscious and that wasn't a good sign. Almost immediately, you tied up your hair and made your way towards the window where you draped the curtain over it. Making your way towards the small liquor cabinet in the room, you quickly poured some whiskey in a glass and placed that on top of the small table next to the sofa where John flopped down. Then, you made your way to the bathroom where you hoped there was at least a first aid kit inside.

"Bingo." You whispered to yourself as you saw the familiar looking kit. You then proceeded to thoroughly wash your hands to avoid infecting John's wound before you made your way outside and placed the kit on the space next to John.

"Are you still able to take your suit off?" You asked and John gave you a nod before he carefully took his blazer off, followed by his pants and his dress shirt. Eventually leaving him in his dress pants.

"Do you have any other wounds on your legs?" You asked and John only responded to you by shaking his head while you put on some latex gloves as he grabbed the glass with shaking hands and took a sip of the drink you gave him.

You nodded, opening the kit where you grabbed a needle and a thread and began to sterilize it, not wanting to risk giving the beat up man an infection. Soon enough, you began to carefully suture John's wound, completely being oblivious to your surrounding including the fact that John was staring at you while you were patching him up.

John took a big sip of his drink and poured more into his glass once it got empty. You never failed to frustrate John and somehow, he couldn't do anything about it. Well, he can. But killing inside the Continental is like signing your death sentence. And he didn't want to kill someone innocent.

But you frustrated him in a way where you were doing something someone in your place wouldn't do. Who in their right mind would patch up the man who's going to kill their family? He was slowly convincing himself that you might be truly insane.

John silently watched as you furrowed your eyebrows and bit your bottom lip causing him to gulp as it reminded him a lot of Helen. He remembered how Helen would have the same expression on her face. Eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed while she absentmindedly bites her own bottom lip whenever she does something that requires one hundred percent of her attention.

He couldn't help but take another big gulp of his drink which made you look up at him for a second as you averted your gaze to the now empty glass.

"Don't tell me a small needle is hurting you, John." You lightly teased as you began to loop the end of the thread.

"Not really. It's more frustrating, to be honest." He replied which caused you to laugh softly before putting on a sterilized bandage on top of the stitched wound. Once that was done, you began to clean up the area and picked up John's bloody clothes before standing up from the ground but froze in your spot when you felt John's calloused hand around your wrist.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked, his gaze steady on you as you looked back into his warm brown eyes. Letting out a sigh, you sat down on the space next to him on the sofa and placed the first aid kid and John's clothes on the floor.

"You could've just let me bleed to death. Anyone would've done that but you didn't. Why?" You could feel John staring at you as if he was trying to read your mind and trying to see into your very soul.

"And risk being framed for Excommunicado? I don't think so, John." You spoke, "If I let you bleed to death, I might get framed for killing inside the Continental and we both know that's unwise. Second, I don't think I could handle someone dying when I know I could've helped them."

"What about Viggo? Iosef? Can you handle them dying when you know you could've helped them?"

"If I decide to get myself involved, would you let me? Why did you even take me here with you in the first place?" You backfired.

"I didn't take you, you willingly went with me." John stated to which you hummed in response.

"Isn't that what you would've done the moment you found me in the kitchen? Let's face it, John. If you wanted to kill me, you would've done it the moment I had my back towards you. You had the opportunity to pull the trigger when you held me at gunpoint but did you?" John was speechless yet again as he watched you lean back on the sofa, "Unless you plan on killing me after all of this is done. But you don't seem to be the one to do something like that. You strike while the iron is hot."

"How can you be so sure?" John questioned you. Without thinking twice, you grabbed the gun that was hoisted in John's pants, took his hand and made him grab the gun before you pressed your forehead against its mouth.

"What the hell are you doi-"

"Shoot me."

"Wait, what?"

"Pull the trigger and shoot me." You repeated, keeping your eyes on him.

"Y/N, you don't know what you're talking about-"

"Shoot me, Jonathan." You said, your voice firm as you cut him off again. John looked into your eyes, trying to find at least a sign if you're bluffing or not. But he was disappointed to see how serious you really were.

"You want me to shoot you?" He asked, his voice gruff as he tightened his grip on the gun.

"Did I stutter?" You replied, still keeping your gaze on his eyes.

"We're in the fucking Continental, Y/N." He said in gritted teeth.

"If you really wanted or needed to kill me, John. It wouldn't matter if we're in the fucking Continental or not." You moved closer so the gun presses firmly against your forehead, "Shoot me."

John placed his finger on the trigger, his eyes never leaving yours and vice versa. It seemed like hours when the both of you stared at each other and before you knew it, John slowly lowered his gun and placed it on the wooden table beside him before he poured another shot of whiskey in his glass, his head turning away from you.

"I thought so." You whispered and stood up, carrying the kit and John's battered clothes with you as you put it in the hamper and made your way inside the bathroom where you locked the door behind you.

At that moment, you didn't know what you feared anymore. The Baba Yaga or your own self.