#even if i forgive her i can't forget what she's said. what she's done. how she's impacted my life and my brother's negatively despite

[xiaofiaan]

always shit like this that has me feeling unbearably guilty for my choices and future actions

[marril96]

Safe Haven

Chapter 1: Guilty as Sin

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it's up to you to help her.

To say you and Agatha had parted on bad terms would be an understatement of the century.

You'd forgiven her a lot of things, and could forgive so much more, but the one thing you just couldn't get past was her forgetting your anniversary because she was too busy draining some random witch that wasn't even powerful enough to justify leaving you hanging.

You'd exploded. It was like someone had pulled a switch, and an atomic bomb had gone off, turning everything in its path to dust. You'd unleashed all the things you'd been holding back; centuries of pent up rage, of resentment pouring out of your mouth. Raging and burning. Stinging its target's flesh like lava dripping on skin.

Things you couldn't believe could ever come out of your mouth shot out, bitter, venomous. Bullets aiming for the heart.

You'd called Agatha selfish. Had accused her of not caring about you, of valuing power over you. Had said she'd never loved you, and, if she'd thought she had, you'd certainly never felt it. Had told her other witches were right to have never trusted her for not an ounce of her was worthy of being trusted.

"I can't look at you right now. I don't wanna look at you," were your final words before you'd summoned your magic and had taken off for the sky. Far, far away from her.

It wasn't exactly a breakup. The two of you had had periods of separation throughout the centuries, usually brought on by one of you wanting to travel and the other preferring to cozy up somewhere for a few months. In the end, you would always find your way back to each other. The few times you had parted on bad terms, you were back in each other's arms within days.

You could never stay apart for too long.

Until now.

Three months and counting. No calls. No texts. Both of you were too stubborn, too proud to pick up the phone and make the first move.

Not that it would do much.

You doubted there was coming back from this fight.

If someone had said those things to you, you wouldn't want to see their face, either. Not for a very long time. Possibly not ever again.

You didn't even mean what you'd said. You were just so angry, and Agatha had made a mistake, and you'd wanted to punish her. You'd wanted to hurt her. You'd wanted her to feel how you were feeling. Wanted her to feel worse. You'd wanted to shove a knife in her gut and twist it.

What you'd actually done was aim for the heart and shatter it until it was nothing but specks of dirt under your feet.

Every day since that fateful night had been hell.

You weren't sure how you were able to survive; guilt had been eating you alive, bit by fleshy bit. The words you'd said echoed in your head. Had kept you up at night. Had brought tears to your eyes every time you'd replayed them.

Agatha was no angel, far from it, but she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve a fraction of the venom you'd spewed in her face.

Maybe that had been a breakup, after all.

You didn't see her forgiving you that kind of cruelty.

You certainly would never forgive yourself.

Loud banging shook you back to the present, to your lonesome reality. Someone — something — was at your front door, insistent, desperate to get inside. The hinges squeaked under the force of the blows.

Blood ran cold in your veins.

You lived in the middle of nowhere; a deliberate choice, as your kind historically didn't fare well among people. Or each other. Experience had taught you that witches could be as treacherous as humans, even more so. Miles and miles of trees surrounded your home, cocooning it, shielding it. Hiding it and you from the world.

Who could possibly be at your door this late in the evening?

A lost or injured hiker? A runaway kid seeking help?

Someone who meant you harm?

The prospect didn't worry you too much; you'd made sure the entrance to your home was spelled so that nobody and nothing could get in without your explicit permission. Hunters and rogue witches, as well as regular, run of the mill thieves, had raided too many spaces you'd thought were safe over the centuries.

When you'd acquired this house, you were determined it was never going to happen again.

It was Agatha who had suggested protection like that. She knew how much it meant to you to have a place to call yours, to call a home, so she'd flipped through the pages of that dark magic book of hers that you weren't allowed to come near (with good reason: you'd avoided that thing like the plague) and had found a spell that would protect you from unwanted guests 

It had worked wonders so far.

Still, as you cautiously padded to the door, one of your hands lit up with magic; a witch could never be too careful. You unlocked the door and opened it a crack, then wide as your eyes fell upon the familiar dark brown hair.

Agatha.

Your heart raced, first with excitement at seeing her again, then with concern as the condition she was in settled in.

Her clothes were ripped. Her hair was a mess, as if she hadn't brushed it in days. Blood ran down her mouth, down her chapped lips. Deep, purple bruises marred her face, painted it dark and painful.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, in disbelief at the sight before you. This had to have been some kind of an illusion. The Agatha you knew could never get hurt like this. No matter what the situation was, she would find her feet. She would never allow for it to get this far.

Her power was too grand for even a remote possibility of something like this.

Then why was she standing at your door, bruised and bloody?

Why was she shivering?

Why did she look so fucking scared that it broke your heart all over again, as your own cruel words had the night that you'd abandoned her?

"Y/N, please, let me in," she said. There was no usual snark in her tone, no humor. No playfulness that you'd come to miss in the months since you'd last seen her. Her voice was strained, as if it hurt to talk. As if it was taking the last remnants of the strength she had left to push the words out. "Please." There was a pause, a pained one, then she said, completely and utterly weak, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

She didn't even have to ask.

"Come here," you said, reaching for her. It was an instinct you'd grown into over the centuries of being with her. When she needed you — when she was cold or sad or injured — you were at her side with arms wide open. No questions asked. No demands made. All that mattered was getting her well. Making the pain she was in go away.

Hands on her shoulders, you gently coaxed her inside, and then locked the door behind her.

She didn't have to ask to be let in. Didn't have to cower and beg for mercy.

Even with the protection spell, Agatha had been welcome here from the very start. This was her home as much as it was yours. No matter how angry you were at her, you would never deny her access. Had never denied it.

What you had done, you remembered, chills running down your spine like ants, was tell her you couldn't look at her.

Was that why she was in this condition? Did she think you wouldn't help her if she called? Did she think you didn't care about her anymore — that you didn't care whether she lived or died?

Did she think you would slam the door in her face and leave her to tend to herself?

Swallowing the guilt that pressed on your chest like an ill-fitted corset, you helped Agatha to the couch. She walked with a limp, one hand pressed to her side, each breath she took a labor, a chore. Whoever had harmed her had done a number on her.

You'd seen her lose fights before. You'd seen her beg for mercy. But it had never been this bad. Not even close.

Whoever had done this to her had better leave the country, had better leave the fucking planet if they wanted to live for another day. Once you found them, they would wish they were dead.

That was a promise, and you always kept those when it came to Agatha.

"Is this okay?" you asked. "Do you need a blanket, or a pillow, or—"

"It's fine," she said, taking a few breaths to steady herself, each more painful than the other.

It shattered your heart into a million pieces.

She didn't deserve this. No matter what she did or whom she managed to piss off, she didn't deserve to be in this kind of pain.

As tenderly as you could, you laid your hands over hers. Agatha stiffened, startled, confirming your suspicions — she didn't think you care about her, not after the things you'd said.

All the witches in her life had ended up betraying her, turning their backs on her, abandoning her. It was only natural that you would do the same.

It was only life.

She didn't know anything different, anything better.

And you, the asshole that you were, had poured salt over the wound.

You'd told her she'd deserved it.

"It's okay," you said softly, caressing her hands. Letting her know that she was safe, that the danger had passed. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

But you had, hadn't you? You'd promised you would never, but you'd done what everyone else had. You'd turned your back on her. You'd spewed the vilest things you could think of, things you didn't even mean, to hurt her, all because you were hurt and had wanted her to feel the same — had wanted her to feel worse. You'd thrown her mistakes in her face, and had left her. You'd never looked back. And, no matter how much the guilt was eating you up, niggling at your insides like acid, you didn't have the nerve to apologize, to make it right.

You were no better than her coven. Than her bitch of a mother.

Agatha nodded, then lowered her eyes to her lap, to her dirty, bloodied clothes. Everywhere and anywhere but your face.

She might as well have slapped you.

Not that you wouldn't have deserved it.

"Who did this to you?" you asked, trying your hardest to hold back an explosion that threatened to erupt inside you.

You couldn't hurt yourself, not much more than you already have, but you could make sure that the one who'd done this to her paid with their life.

They'd been living on borrowed time since the second they'd decided to lay their hands on her.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Hunters." She spit the word like it was poison, like the mere act of saying it befouled her mouth. "They injected me with something that's been blocking my power."

You raised an eyebrow, confused. "A drug of some sort?"

"Try potion."

Now that was interesting. "They're working with a witch?"

Agatha nodded. "A powerful one. It's been two days, and this thing's still alive and kicking."

"Two days?"

They'd had her for two days?

They'd been hitting her, beating her, torturing her for two days?

A few tears escaped your containment, your cheeks burning in their wake.

"Oh, please, it's nothing I can't take. I could go for two more weeks," Agatha said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. Acting as if what she'd gone through didn't bother her a single bit.

You knew better.

That smile on her mouth was the same one she always hid behind. The one she used when she wanted to hide the pain, the turmoil, despite knowing damn well it didn't fool you. It never did.

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry," you said, on the brink of falling apart.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

That was the problem.

You didn't do anything.

She was tortured for two days, and you were none the wiser.

"I should've been there."

You would have burned those monsters alive. You would've made them beg for mercy, given them hope that it would come, and then you would've taken it away at the last minute. You would've made the punishment fit the crime.

You would do it.

They had no idea what was coming to them.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Save your pity."

"It's not pity, and you know it," you told her in your most earnest tone. She had no reason to believe you — you'd certainly given her plenty of reasons not to — but you hoped she would find it in her heart to look past that. To give you the smallest benefit of the doubt, a chance to make what you broke whole again.

"Isn't it?" It was her turn to twist the knife, and she knew how to make it hurt without trying too hard.

You deserved it.

As much as it hurt, as much as it bruised and broke you, you had every word of doubt coming.

You swallowed a hard lump in your throat, welcoming the pain. Accepting it as penance. "No."

Standing up on shaky legs, you walked to the adjoining kitchen and started rummaging through cupboards in search of supplies. You didn't have a first aid kit, so a makeshift one would have to do. Some old bandages, a rag, a bowl of warm water. Simple, yet efficient.

Agatha could think what she wanted — she could think the worst of you, and she certainly had that right — but you would still help her. You would still do your best for her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting supplies," you said, picking up the softest rag you had. "We need to get you cleaned up."

A moment of tense silence passed. "I can do it myself."

You looked her in the eyes like you always did when she was being difficult. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she said stubbornly.

If she didn't, she wouldn't have shown up at your door and begged to be let in. She wouldn't have let you hold her hands.

"Agatha," you said with a sigh. Don't do this, you thought. Don't play these games. Not now.

"You don't have to pretend you want me here. I'm only here because I had nowhere else to go," she reiterated.

"I'm not pretending."

"Aren't you? You made it pretty clear you didn't wanna look at me." Her eyes, so blue and sad, filled with tears. Her injured lips trembled. "I'm selfish, remember? I never loved you. I'm not trustworthy. I deserve everything that's ever happened to me. I deserve this."

"No. No, you don't."

But you did. You deserved to have your words thrown back at you. You deserved every jab, every painful poke.

You laid the bowl on the coffee table and sat back down by Agatha's side. "I know I'll never be able to take back all those horrible things I said. For what it's worth, I didn't mean any of it."

"Why'd you say it, then?" Agatha asked pointedly. No pleasantries. No nonsense.

"Because I was pissed, and I wanted to hurt you." It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud, but you owed it to her to be honest. She deserved to know the truth. "All this time, I've been trying to think of ways to apologize. Nothing seemed good enough. You deserve better, and I just couldn't give it to you. So, I left you alone."

You reached for her hand. Momentary relief flooded your veins as she allowed you to twine your fingers with hers. This time she welcomed your touch. Welcomed you.

"I really am sorry," you said. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't. I just ask that you let me try to make up for it."

Agatha swallowed. Her eyes fell to your linked hands. You thought she would push you away. That she would tell you where you can shove your apology. That she would tell you that it was too late — she didn't love you anymore. That she wanted nothing to do with you.

Instead, her fingers squeezed yours.

A tiny, silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could.

She hadn't given up on you.

She was willing to give you a chance.

She still loved you.

Just like that, a spark lit up inside you. A sliver of hope, tiny but still there, bright in the turmoil of your mind.

It was more than you could have asked for.

You promised to yourself — to Agatha — that you wouldn't squander it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

*****

Next chapter.

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

08: Technical Difficulties

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

Warnings: angst, two idiots fighting again

a/n: Hiii, so, I had a little writers block but it's completly fiiinee.... I hope you guys llike this chapter! This week maybe you won't have a new chapter because this weekend I have a competition, so if you want to suggest things or even sending me some love I would appreciate it so much!

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Tuscany was a place that brought me inner peace, childhood memories, a sense of safety.

It reminds me of the summers I spent with my grandma, sneaking into the kitchen to watch her make homemade pasta and pizza. It reminds me of being free and knowing that here I am my own person, that I can be myself and not a racing driver. 

When my grandma passed away, she left this house for my sisters and I, leaving my mother with other properties, knowing how much this house meant for us and how many memories this place holds. Here we had first kisses, first love… Every inch of this house has our signature with small details: a wall piano where I used to sit with my dad to play it, a pottery jar my sister Soleil made, a painting made by my sister. 

This house is my place, my safe space, my sanctuary. 

And yet there he is, stepping into my space when no one asked him to be here, turning my life upside down as always with his selfishness. 

“You have to leave” I said firmly, placing a protective hand over my belly.

“I want to talk, Dafne… please” he sighed, not tearing his eyes away from my swollen belly, making me turn around and walk towards the couch I occupied before he showed up.

“There's nothing to talk about, Charles” I sighed. “You've done enough. Leave me alone”

“I won't” he frowned, following me, making me hug myself. “I won't leave. Not this time-”

“Can't you see that the only thing you do is ruining my life?” I snapped, turning around to face him. “Look at what you have done! This is your fault!”

“I know!” he exclaimed, making me clench my jaw. “I know! And I'm so sorry!”

“Saying sorry won't fix this” I frowned, pointing at my belly. “Saying sorry won't make me have my career back. Saying sorry won't make me hate you less”

He clenched his jaw, but never looked away. He stayed where he was, looking at me all the time, following me with his eyes.

“I'm not leaving until you hear me” he frowned, making me groan while I sat on the chair.

“You think you can just show up here and try to be in my life after everything you did? After the panic attacks, the harassment, the constant media hounding?” I frowned. “You made me lose a man I really wanted to be with. Sebastian is more man than you, he tried to put back the broken pieces of my heart after the disaster you made. And then I had to see his heart breaker when I told him that this baby wasn't his but yours. You have an idea of how much that hurts?”

His eyes filled with regret as he clenched his jaw, but I couldn't let myself feel sorry for him. I have to be strong. For me. And for this baby.

“I know I've made mistakes” he sighed, and before he talked again he took a few deep breaths closing his eyes. “But I'm here to make things right. I came to talk things and fix this”

“You can't fix this” I said, pointing between us, fighting the tears. “You can't just show up and expect things to be okay. It's too late”

“Please Dafne…” he begged, taking a few steps closer. “I'm not asking for forgiveness right now, I just… Just give me the chance to be here, for you. For our baby”

“Our baby” I repeated bitterly. “This isn't about you, Charles! The world doesn't turn around you! This time is about me and what I need. And what I need right now is to have you away from me”

He stayed silent, with his eyes moving from my belly to my eyes. For a moment, I thought he really was going to leave. I saw him close his eyes slowly and take a deep breath, I saw that tic he has in his jaw whenever he's nervous. For a few seconds I felt relieved, thinking he was going to turn around and walk out of the backyard.

“I'm not leaving” he said, opening his eyes again. “I'm going to stay until you believe that I mean what I said. Until you decide to fix things and speak”

“You are so stubborn!” I exclaimed, frustrated. “Why can't you just respect my wishes?”

“Because I care about you, okay?” he exclaimed back, raising up his arms. “Why do you think I came here? I waited patiently until you came back to the factory, but you never came. I was going crazy because you weren't giving signals if you were alive or not. You didn't even make a statement about you retiring!”

“Do you think that's easy?” I mumbled. “Why do you think I came here? Why do you think I didn't say anything? Because this is hard for me, Charles! You have an idea how embarrassing it is for me to say you can't race anymore because you are going to be a mother? Do yu have an idea of how many times I had to answer to multiple people that I wanted to focus on racing when they asked me about my future plans, about making a family?”

“I…” he sighed.

“You have it easy” I said pointing at him with my hand. “You can keep racing, you can have as many kids as you want, after all you won't have to carry them for nine months. But I have to carry this baby, Charles. I can't race anymore, my body won't be the same”

“And I'm sorry for that, it's my fault” he sighed.

“Yes, it is” I scoffed. “If there's one to blame here it's you. I did nothing wrong. Just because you decided to not use a condom and be drunk”

“You were drunk too” he tried to attack back, but he stopped looking at the floor. 

I stood up and turned around and hugged myself, looking at the sunset and taking a deep breath.

“You can stay the night” I said. “But I want you out of here before I wake up”

“Dafne-”

“No” I stopped him. “Right now you only bring me pain. If you want to fix things, go back in time and go to your hotel room instead of mine”

Laying in bed, now more than ever, only brought memories.

The room that always has been mine changed all over the years. My grandma inherited this house from her father, who was something like the lord of the land. It's a big house, and when my mother had Erica and then me, she decided that she wanted to give us a room for ourselves, making my mother know that this building was also ours.

My room was decorated the moment my mother knew she was pregnant with me, and it started to get shape as I was getting older. The bed changed a few times, the shelves were full of books and plants, the wardrobe had summer clothes, the walls were filled with pictures of all the places I had been in my life. 

This room it's my sanctuary more than the house itself.

And knowing that Charles is at the other side of the door, as many other times, makes me want to stay here safe.

I heard him walking around the house like he owned it. After all, he spent many summers here, he knows where the things are here. I heard him walk in the kitchen downstairs, making something for dinner. I heard him sneeze and yawn.

He really won't leave.

I sat on the bed, rubbing my belly softly while looking out the window, taking deep breaths when I felt my cat walking towards me.

“What should I do?” I whispered, looking at my cat.

The day I found out I was pregnant wasn't the best day of my life. I had a crash that made me fall unconscious, I pushed away a man I knew I could fall in love with and be with him, I disappointed my parents.

I sighed, rubbing my belly softly, something I found myself doing more than I wanted. And somehow, I liked feeling it. I liked feeling that I was growing a human in me, it made me feel stronger than ever. If only this baby was from the man I love…

The door opened slowly, making me turn my head towards him. He had a hand on the handle and the other on the door frame, looking at me, watching how I had my sweater raised up so I could feel the skin of my stomach.

“Eh… I made dinner” he said, with his eyes fixed on me.

“Good for you. What do you want, pats on your back? A trophy?” I answered sarcastically.

“I want you to eat dinner” he frowned. 

“No, thank you. I won't eat something you made” I scoffed. “And I'm not hungry”

“Oh my God, can you stop?” he frowned. “I just want to apologize, make things right! And you make it very hard for me!”

“So? I think I made it pretty clear that I don't want to have you here” I frowned. 

“And what are you going to do, raise that kid alone? It's mine too, I have every right to be here” he groaned. 

“But I don't want you here!” I exclaimed. “I don't want to see you. I don't want to remember every second of the day that you are the father of this baby, that you are the one that made this!”

“Well, I'm sorry! Accidents happen!” he exclaimed, raising his arms.

“Exactly” I groaned. “This is an accident. But who will be the one that won't be damaged? You. I want you out of my life”

He clenched his jaw and looked at me, shaking his head. I just want him to leave me, is it that hard?

“You can't push everyone away, Dafne” he sighed. “You did that with Sebastian. And you always did it with me. I think it's time for us to act like adults”

“Get out of my room”

“Fine. But I won't leave this house until we talk” he said before closing my door.

“Asshole!” I screamed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it to the door. “I hate you!”

“Well, I don't!” 

What?

I frowned looking at the door, hugging my stomach softly. 

What did he say?

“Whatever” I groaned, turning around on the bed and laying on my side, with my back facing the door. “Your dad is not good, you won't like him”

I swallowed thickly, looking out of the window and drawing circles on my belly with my nails. I'm hungry, the baby is hungry, but I won't give him the satisfaction of eating whatever he made, not even sharing the same room with him.

Charles might have been the first love of my life. But that was a stupid, childish and innocent crush. 

My stomach growled in the middle of the night, making me groan and rub it softly. 

I'm hungry.

I sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing my eyes while I put warm socks on my feet. I got up and wrapped my shoulders with a blanket, taking a deep breath before walking out of my room.

I expected the house to be cold, like always. But it was warm. Maybe he fired the fireplace and let it die before he went to sleep.

I went downstairs and sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. The stairs were cold against my covered feet, making me shiver softly.

When I reached the last step I frowned, watching him. He was on the couch, an uncomfortable couch, hugging himself and with his head on a pillow. 

“Idiot” I whisper, looking at him.

He could have gone to the room he shed to sleep in with his brothers whenever they came. But he stayed here, for what? Waiting for me to come? 

I shook my head and walked towards the kitchen, sighing when I saw a plate on the counter. I sat on the chair and looked at it, biting my lip when I saw a sandwich on it. 

And not a simple sandwich. My favorite sandwich. 

“How the hell…” I frowned, turning around and looking at him.

How does he know that my favorite sandwich is the one that has tuna with mayo and ketchup? How? 

I sighed, eating it and groaning when I swallowed it. God, it's so good. 

“Is it good?”

I gasped softly, flinching. He's awake.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch? You have a room” I said, not turning.

“Just in case you walked downstairs” he sighed. “I know you, Dafne…”

“You know nothing about me, Leclerc” I frowned. 

“I know that you love eating” he said, standing in front of me at the other side of the table. “I know that for dinner you always need your comfort meal, and after that you always have cookies with milk. You have been doing that since we are little”

“Fuck off” I groaned, looking away.

“I know that you love peaches, but you are allergic to the peel” he continued. “That you love the chocolate of Cadbury, more specifically the Wispa bars”

I frown and look at him. How? How does he know that? Why? Who told him?

“I know you, Dafne” he repeated.

“No, Charles! You don't know me” I said tiredly. “If you did, none of the shit that is happening between us should have happened! If you did, you would understand why I hated every second of every fight we had. Why can't you accept that I want to be someone successful? Why can't you let me be and mind your own business?”

“And do you think it was easy for me?” he exclaimed. “Do you think it was easy for me watching you risk your life every time you got into your kart and now into the cars? I knew from the start that this sport was dangerous, and when I saw you for the first time in a kart I nearly had a heart attack!”

“You are being so selfish! This is my dream” I exclaimed, standing up.

“And I tried, every time I could, to make sure you left it” he said. “I tried to fight against you to make you hate it, to make you see that…”

“What? That I'm not made for this? That this is a sport for men?”

He swallowed thickly and looked away, walking towards the window of the kitchen, his back facing me.

“When Jules died I started to have nightmares nearly every night” he whispered. “Some nights his crash on Sakura was on repeat in my mind. And then other nights that crash was happening to you. Do you have an idea of what was going on in my mind when I realized that the one that was in the barriers in Abu Dhabi was you? Do you have an idea of how hard it was for me knowing that you were unconscious?”

“Charles” I frowned.

“Do you have an idea how hard I tried to keep you safe? Dafne, I-”

“No. Don't do this. You have no right. How dare you? Why are you like this? Why the hell you have been acting all our fucking life like a jerk with me, making me feel so little, and then you come here now to say what, that you love me?” I scoffed. 

But then he turned his head slowly, looking at me with those green eyes.

“No” I mumbled. “No. No, don't. Leave. Leave right now! I don't want to see you! Get the fuck out if my house!”

“Dafne…”

“No” I groaned. “You have no right”

He turned around to look at me but I just took a step back before he could reach me, walking out of the kitchen and going to the hall of the house to grab the key cars. 

If he doesn't want to leave, then I will.

Even if it's two in the morning.

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[the-curious-butterfly]

What if our parents were once friends but we didn't know.

What if the first time I met you you were so cold.

What if I had your mom killed just for standing up.

And you looked at me with eyes that said sorry will never be enough.

What if I had managed to do what I had planned,

Be like my mother in taking a stand,

Would you have also taken my head into your hands?

What if I hadn't stopped you, and my mother made me kill you too.

I don't think I could bear it now knowing what I do.

What if instead I took us back in time.

Gave the lives we know a serious rewind.

Just so that one day you could be mine.

And I could love you without the guilt,

That your mother's blood would have built.

Except in another place another time,

I'm still the one who let her die.

And I can't understand how you can look at me with eyes so wide.

Saying you'll forgive me because of how much I've tried.

She still died.

She died.

She was suppose to die.

And it was my fault.

Red,

It doesn't even sound like my name when you say it that way.

It sounds like love.

(but love ain't it)

Or so I've been told since I could sit.

What if I went back and undid what we've done.

Because a game against time can never be won.

And even though I've learned it way too late.

What if this time I leave you behind,

So that you can once again look at me with eyes of hate.

I don't want to forget you, Red.

I'm sorry, Chloe.

.

.

.

Worst part is,

While I know it's selfish,

I'll still want you to forgive me some day.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not saying please/thank you?

So this is an ongoing argument with my roommate. I (22nb) am autistic, and T (55f) has ADHD.

Now to get this out of the way, i do say thank you. I was always taught to wait a moment after receiving something, take a bite or appreciate what you were given for a breath, before thanking someone so that you could add something more to it. My roommate and I both agree that i do say thank you the vast majority of the time, but the problem for her is that i do not say it fast enough.

T often gives me a "tHaNk yOu" while the item in question is still being passed. This seems ridiculous to me as i haven't even been fully given it yet.

In addition, i have the dishes as my household chore, and i do them daily, despite almost never making any dishes myself. I do this to both support T and her diet, as well as contribute to the household that i live in.

T thanks me near daily for doing the dishes. This always seems weird and unnecessary to me, as it is my responsibility. I have told her this. I dont expect to be thanked for doing my own laundry, after all. In return, T gets upset that i dont notice and thank her for taking out the garbage/recycling/compost, to which she is the main contributor to and is under her responsibilities.

As for please: i do say this much more rarely. I think it feels overly preformative and fake, and i typical choose more "would you mind closing my door for me" "if its not too much of a hassle, could you toss me my waterbottle" "id appreciate it if you could preheat the oven while you're in the kitchen"

I think that these work perfectly fine as a replacement. Please just has always felt wrong and fake. No one else in my entire life has ever commented on this before.

Thirdly; T has been upset that i don't respond to her apologies appropriately. After she is snappy at me (due to her emotional disregulation from ADHD) (last time it was because i asked if she was using the oven instead of asking if i could use the oven myself, for reference) there is a 50/50 shot that she will come and apologize.

I dont often accept apologies. Apologies are for the person saying them to get it off their chests, or to make you put it behind them. Usually, ill say something like "it was just one of those days, y'know?" Or "its alright, water under the bridge"

Because i was always taught that apologies came with a promise of change, and T can't (or won't) change how she re-directs her frustration at unrelated things to things ive done "wrong". When she told me the correct response was "i forgive you", i decided to not engage instead of telling her directly that i didnt forgive her (because i am certain she will do it again). (I usually dont engage with her when shes irritated: she never notices and just wants to say her piece so im not being rude here)

She said that i was being disrespectful, "like always", and when i suggested it may be more difficult for me due to my autism, she said that we made plenty of accommodations for me (which i think is false), and that i just needed to do this for her comfort. That please/thank yous were something she needed to feel appreciated and i should be making more accommodations for her.

To me, i feel like she is getting really caught up on semantics and is being a little controlling about it. But maybe its just a boundary? I dont know if i could commit to changing my language for her though, i feel like i will just start forgetting after awhile because it feels so fake. Shouldn't it be better for me to say things genuinely than just for her approval?

AITA for not saying please/thank you?

[pedrithink]

pedri and reader arguing over him forgetting their anniversary?

forgetfulness ✩ pedri gonzález

summary: pedri forgot your birthday.

To wake up and watch your boyfriend go into another room and get ready without looking you in the eye hurts. You really don't understand how Pedri can forget this day, your day. You understand that he has a lot to remember, but it hurts that he doesn't remember a day that is so important to you.

"Good morning." You say when you see him in the kitchen, hoping that he would turn around and remember your day.

He walks up to you and leaves a kiss on your head. "Good morning, sleepy head. How are you?" You can only swallow dryly and try to hide your disappointment as much as possible.

"Fine. And you?" You briefly watched as your boyfriend approached the door to leave and go straight to training.

"I'm fine. I'll see you later, okay?" He leaves a kiss on your mouth and a light caress in your hair before leaving completely out of the house.

You take a deep breath and can't control yourself, tears streaming down your face. How could he do this to you? He didn't have to write you a text or send you a bunch of gifts, you just wanted him to at least make a point of remembering your birthday. Maybe at least a "Happy Birthday" would be better than silence.

Ignoring the tightness in your chest, you sit down on the couch to read all the affectionate messages your family and friends have left. Trying not to remember that the person who simply lives with you has completely forgotten.

"Hey, how's she doing?" Pedri turns to face Gavi, he doesn't fail to arch an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, she who?"

"Y/N? What do you mean she who?"

Gavi looks at Pedri with a "Are you crazy?" expression and Pedri is even more confused that he is so randomly asking about you. "She's fine, same as always. Why are you asking me that out of the blue?"

Pedri lets out a weak laugh and Gavi can't help but frown. "I just thought she'd be mad that you had to come to practice on her birthday. Didn't you get a break? I swear Xavi was cool with it, but…"

Pedri interrupts Gavi on the spot and picks up his cell phone to check today's date, Holy shit….

"Holy shit, Gavi. What have I done?" he sits up and runs his hand through his hair nervously. Pedri can't hold back a nervous sigh and he remembers the way you looked different this morning, the way your eyes looked disappointed with every word he said.

"Don't tell me you forgot…" Gavi runs his hand across his forehead and doesn't fail to slap Pedri on the head. "Fuck you, you stupid. Go home and fix it, you dumb fuck."

After Gavi said this, Pedri couldn't contain himself and just picked up his cell phone and car keys. The despair and anxiety hit him when he saw that at was going to be a 40 minute ride judging by the awful traffic he was caught in while coming from the training center.

He only hoped that you could forgive him for that.

You hear the door slam in a rush and your expression already changes. Gavi texted you and it hurts even more to know that he only remembered because someone told him to. You turn toward the door as Pedri opens it and only cross your arms when you see his figure with an upset expression on his face.

"Baby, I…forgive me." He tries to move closer to you, but you push him away.

"Now you remember? Nice to know how important I am to you." You let out a wry smile and shake your head as if you couldn't believe Pedri's attitude.

He shrugs his shoulders and turns serious. "Please try to understand me. I have a lot on my mind."

"I also have several things to do and solve, Pedro. But, I have never forgotten a birthday of yours."

Pedri sits on the edge of the bed, fixing an invisible point with a stare that sends chills to your bones. "You're picking this argument for nothing. Because I forgot for a few hours you're going to undo everything I've done for you all year? The world won't stop because it's your birthday." When he says this, it's as if a knife had been plunged into his heart. Doesn't he understand that it isn't only about today? He has been getting more and more distant and it seems that everything about you is not so important to be remembered by him. "People go on working as usual, their problems don't end, their available times are the same. So it is natural that someone ends up forgetting your birthday. So if I have not remembered your day for a few hours, it does not necessarily mean that I have no consideration for you, that I am not a good boyfriend or anything like that."

You paused in the middle of the room, with teary eyes. "The thing is not just today, Pedro. You don't make a point of having me around anymore, and it seems like every day more and more you make it clear that things about me don't matter to you." Your eyes watering and the way your hand rests on your chest to try to push away this pain that only increases, he can only feel bad for making you feel this way. He wants to touch you and pull you into his embrace. "Whoever loves you automatically provides you with things that don't need to be begged. And I think that if you didn't mind my absence, maybe it's because my presence was never important to you and that scares me."

"I love you, I'm sorry if it made it seem like I don't care about your presence." He says while looking deep into your eyes, he says all this with his eyes shining and murmuring, as if it were your little secret.

He opened and closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling from his eyes. He hates arguing with you and this feeling that you're about to run between his fingers, this shit hurts. He snuggles deeper into the bed and crosses his arms. You sighed, running a hand on your face.

The silence stretched on and on, you were afraid to say something and end up hurting both of you. "I…I think I'll sleep in the other room tonight." You say as you stare at the wall in front of you, and when you saw that he was going to say something, you interrupted him. "Just for today, just for today…I think we both need this space. To think."

He shakes his head in agreement, but more than anything, he just wanted to pull you into his arms and ask you to forgive him for all the times he made you feel this way. "Sleep here, I'll go to another room." He murmurs, already getting up, not even giving you time to say.

The night came and neither of you could sleep, you had never had a fight like this before, much less slept apart after one. You started a war without realizing it, without communicating, and that is the biggest mistake of all. You just wanted this night to pass and Pedri was controlling himself not to get up and hug you until that pain in his chest was gone, nothing hurts more than knowing that he hurts you.

As morning came, you could only sleep for a few hours and Pedri couldn't rest at all. He just wanted the morning to come soon so that you could talk and get this out of his chest, he couldn't accept losing you.

When you got up, Pedri was already in the kitchen preparing something for you to eat. You let a smile escape when you saw the way he was committed to cooking for you. "Good morning."

He turned to you and tried to relax his posture when he saw that you were more relaxed after yesterday's discussion. God, he has never seen you as beautiful as you are now. "Good morning, my love. Hey." He runs his hands through his sweatpants and approaches you a little fearfully, you lower your guards and let him hug you.

He squeezes you even tighter in his arms and leaves several kisses on your head, you can only sink further into his arms and nuzzle the tip of your nose against his neck. "Without your hug that comforts, without your kisses that fill me with so much love, without your company. I can no longer imagine a future where you are not, because you are always there!"

He says all this while his hands are running down your back in a caress. You listen to everything intently and try to take a deep breath as a weight comes off your shoulders. "I know I've been a jerk, I'm sorry about that. But under no circumstances should you think that I don't care enough about you." He pulls you away from his embrace so that you could look into each other's eyes while this conversation takes place. "Love is not confusion, love is staying together, even confused. It's working it out together. It's not walking away. I've reflected on all my actions this morning and I'm just sorry, I'm sorry for all the times I made you feel like it wasn't reciprocated."

You caress his face and let a smile escape. "It's okay."

"It's not okay, but now it will be. Love is about giving, believing, and sharing. Love is all of that and I want to be with you. I want to share my needs and your needs because making you happy is my goal." He leaves three kisses on your mouth and rests his forehead against yours. "Now let's go back to yesterday and make you have an extremely special day, today is all about you and me."

You can't hide your excitement and hug Pedri again. He has never broken a promise and you faithfully believe that he will review the actions that have hurt you. He is the person you trust most in the whole world.

[lovemyromance]

hey I'm an elriel girlie but your take on rhysand not doing anything wrong but helping feyre really rubbed me the wrong way, as a emergency room worker I can't tell you how many young girls come my way drugged and molested, and trust me not touching someone bellow the waist but touching them is assault, when a person touches you anywhere without your consent it is assault, how many times I've seen young girls denied justice just because they were drunk or they didn't touch private parts is disheartening, it is so disheartening watching adult women justify these actions even in fictiom

I love these books and rhysand and we can love him without justifying his actions.

Hey I'm sorry that my stance rubbed you the wrong way, regardless of what side of the ship war you're on. I'm sure you've seen some pretty heartbreaking cases from your occupation. I don't make a habit of discussing it on my blog but I've unfortunately also been a victim of SA in my life, so I understand where you are coming from.

People shouldn't touch others without their consent.

TW AHEAD: Talk of sexual abuse/assault below the cut

That being said - I still stand by what I personally consider as SA. The ultimate deciding factor is the victim, of course, because they're the one person that seeks justice.

In this situation, Feyre herself forgives Rhys for his actions under the mountain. She understood why Rhys was acting that way even during UTM. And it was shown multiple times that he did not touch her anywhere other than the waist and that one kiss - but even Feyre does not hold it against him. SJM clearly did not intend to have her MMC painted as a sexual abuser - so I don't know where this narrative came from. If Feyre/SJM don't consider SA - why would I?

Rhysand had her drink to forget the horrors Amarantha paraded in front of her every night. He painted her body so she would still know that nobody touched her without her consent.

That to me does not equate sexual abuse. Feyre knew what was happening - and she drank that wine every night. I'm not saying she shouldn't have or she willingly participated - but I'm saying she was not sexually abused by Rhysand.

I don't consider an abrupt kiss to get Amarantha's suspicions off Feyre/Tamlin an act of sexual abuse. Should Rhysand have done it ? Ideally no, but it's not an ideal situation that they were in. They were in life or death mode.

It would be one thing - and apologies if this might be triggering - if Rhysand was forcing himself on Feyre regularly -> that I would consider sexual assault, even if Feyre forgave him for it. That would've caused me to DNF the book.

But I don't consider ONE kiss under duress to be sexual assault. I don't consider touching her waist to be sexual assault either. And it's clear that's all he did.

Should he have done that? Ideally - no. But UTM wasn't exactly an ideal situation for anyone.

This is not a black and white case. There's plenty of moments where people in ACOTAR were touched by someone else against their will. Are they all cases of SA? Are we saying Nesta kicking Cassian in the balls was SA? Are we saying Tamlin touching Feyre was SA?

There are clear examples of SA in the books already. I don't need to comb through the books and consider every instance of someone touching another character without their explicit consent as SA. That's not the intended purpose of those scenes and I will choose to give SJM the benefit of doubt here.

Nobody is looking to ACOTAR as the literature that could influence how women are treated in the real world. The specific fictional scenario between Feyre & Rhys does not have any implications for what real women go through.

I personally don't consider someone touching my arms or waist as sexual assault. I understand other people might be uncomfortable with it and categorize it differently - but they have that right. In the end it comes down to the person. And in this scenario - even Feyre doesn't consider it SA. So neither do I.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Remember You and Me Part 7/8

Ruben done f*cked up, is all I can say. 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Summary - After a traffic accident reader is left with no memory of her life with Ruben, who desperately tries to get her to remember him.

Enjoy!

"Maybe it's better if she comes and stays with us?"

The headaches and memory shocks, not even the doctors had predicted how it would affect you. Your parents came to visit you while you were in the hospital. They were convinced that you should go back to live with them in the Netherlands.

"What do you say Ruben?" They asked.

He looked pale, grey bags visible underneath his eyes. You had been hospitalized for the past week. Ruben had been staying with you every night, leaving for training in the early morning and returning to you late in the evening.

"It's her choice." He mumbled.

Your parents turned to look at you, cradled in your hospital bed. "What do you say honey? Kom met ons mee? (Come with us?).

You were staring blankly into space, like you had been for the past week. It wasn't the memories that haunted you. It was the sense of loss. You had lost somthing that you never even remember having. But one thing was clear to you, somthing wasn't adding up. Someone wasn't telling you the truth, weather it was Ruben, your parents or Rachel. For all you knew all of them were keeping things from you, things like what actually happned to you on the day of your accident.

"I want to go home." You said, your dry lips parting slowly, the words barely making it out of your mouth.

"Home?" Your father questioned. "With us?"

You looked to Ruben. He looked on the verge of somthing, tears, collapsing, verbal confliction? It was hard to tell. Your gaze shifted back to your partners. "Yes." You nodded. "With you. I want to go home with you. "

Ruben bowed his head in defeated, in a way, accepting your choice.

"Okay honey, we'll get the doctors to sign you out."

Your parents left the room, leaving you and Ruben to an endless silence. He approached your bed, at first a bit hesitant to touch you. He then grabbed your hand and pulled up a chair to sit next to you. Your fingers rolled in the palm of his hand. He examined them, taking turns to press each one of them to his warm lips. You watched him. That was all. You just watched him with the sense of loss still devouring you from the inside out.

"Tell me...." Ruben said, gently putting your hand down. He raised his head to hold your gaze. He was unrecognizable, fatigue covering his face like a mask.

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me what you remembered." He asked.

You watched him, his eyes read your soul like an open book.

"You remembered her, didn't you?" Ruben restrained his lips from quivering. "You remembered our baby girl."

You closed your eyes, tears escaping you lids. "I remember her, but I don't remember her. How is that Ruben?"

He shook his head. "I....I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know how to..."

"So you chose to lie to me?"

"Forgive me, Y/N. But I almost lost the both of you that day. I just couldn't..."

"Tell me." You pleaded. "Tell me what happened."

He shook his head, low sniffles leaving his mouth. "I can't,  I can't go back to that night."

"You must."

Ruben looked down, watching your hand in his, however he was inconsolable, refusing to talk, refusing to tell you the truth.

"Then it's decided."

You let him go, creating distance between you.

"Y/N, please."

"I've tried so hard to remember Ruben. So fucking hard. And all this time you have been the one wanting me to forget."

"Y/N, I never..."

"Don't touch me!"

You drew your hand back.

"Y/N?

It was too late. You withdrew to lay in a cradled position, your eyes staring blankly into space. You felt nothing. All that was left was the loss and the pain.

Tags list:

@christianpulisic10

@urmotheris

@magicalfundragon

[sjsmith56]

Snowfall, Part 3 - Profile

Summary: Bucky learns more about what Leia is facing, including that the FBI has been brought in. Agreeing to be her bodyguard he moves into her apartment.

Length: 5.6 K

Characters: Bucky, Leia, Pepper, Happy, FBI agent (named).

Warnings: Minors DNI - contains sexual content which may be unsuitable for those under the age of 18, revelation of past trauma, acknowledgement of continuing PTSD issues, disturbing referral to possible identity of stalker.

Author notes: This chapter is peeling back the layers of defence both Leia and Bucky have, revealing past traumas and PTSD issues.

<<Part 2

The following morning saw them sleep in, understandable considering what they did most of the night. Bucky wakened first, watching Leia sleep for a while, until he got up and showered, trimmed his beard, then dressed. Heading to her kitchen, he started up the coffee, then searched her fridge and cupboards for ingredients to make breakfast. Hearing sounds in the bedroom, he went to the door and knocked on it, receiving an invitation to enter. Leia was under the rumpled duvet, awake but in no hurry to get up.

"I wondered where you were," she murmured, as he sat next to her and leaned over to kiss her.

"Making some breakfast," he replied. "I need calories after last night."

"Me too," she purred, stretching. "I've never done that before." He looked at her questioningly. "Be with a man I barely know, yet I feel like I know you so well."

"I feel the same," he smiled. "Even though it's only been a few days, I can't stop thinking about you. My therapist would chew me out for letting an infatuation take over my decision making. That's probably how she would describe it."

"You see a therapist?" There was no judgement in her voice; rather a sense of wanting to understand him more.

He nodded. "For PTSD. I had a different one when I was first pardoned, and we did not mesh well. The one I have now is much more understanding, but I think jumping into a relationship would test that."

"I saw one when I was a kid then again after I split up with my husband," explained Leia. "It was a nasty split that really drew a dividing line in town. There were those who said I should forgive and forget, while others wanted him prosecuted." Bucky waited for more explanation. "He was also a teacher and got involved with a student, who was almost 18. They did charge him with sexual interference with a minor but the moment our divorce was finalized he married her. She wouldn't testify against him, and they stayed the charges. I took back my maiden name to distance myself from him completely."

She drew the bedclothes tighter around her, curling up on her side a little; obviously still affected by the betrayal but not wanting to open up about it, at least not yet. Bucky climbed over her and laid behind her, draping his arm over her mid-section, as he kissed her shoulder. They laid like that for a while, not talking, just existing in the quiet of the moment. She suddenly rolled over, throwing her arm around his shoulder, and burying her face in his neck.

"You smell so good," she murmured. "It's familiar to me and I don't know why."

"I know what you mean. There is a multiverse where our counterparts are supposed to exist." He searched her face. "Perhaps we're together in another universe and the connection is so strong that we feel it here. It's as if we're ...."

"Don't say soulmates," she interrupted. "Say, kindred souls, or heart's desire, instead. Soulmate is so ... Twilight."

He laughed, kissing her affectionately. "Okay, I can do that." He could wake up next to her every morning. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Soft boiled with soldiers," she answered, which made him smile, "but don't go to too much trouble. I'll take whatever you give me."

"Take your time getting ready." He kissed her and slid out the other side of the bed. "By the way, you snore. It's very cute."

She grabbed the loose pillow and threw it at him, laughing. Dodging it, he picked it up and tossed it onto the end of the bed, leaving her to get ready. By the time she came out dressed for the day, he had two soft boiled eggs ready for her, along with toast cut into strips, coffee and a fruit salad made of bananas, strawberries, and blueberries. For himself he had bacon, eggs, and toast. He poured coffee for each of them, then sat down next to her. Putting his arm around her, he kissed her on the side of the head then returned to his meal, both attacking the food readily.

"Thank you," she murmured, after her first bite. "This is wonderful."

He acknowledged it as they ate some more, then he sipped his coffee, not wanting to speak with his mouth full.

"I'll have to pick up more of my clothing," he said, "as well as my cat."

Her face lit up. "You have a cat? What's its name?"

"Alpine," he answered. "She's about a year old, white with blue eyes, and likely deaf. I say likely because it seems like sometimes she can hear me but chooses not to listen." He drank more of his coffee. "Do you think your driver will take us over and bring us back? I don't want to walk around with luggage and the cat supplies. I, uh, also have to go to my storage locker and pick up a weapon or two."

She stopped eating, putting her utensils down on the table. It became very quiet between them as only the sound of her breathing could be heard. The stress in her voice when she did speak was noticeable.

"Is that necessary?"

"I would rather have them than not," he answered, puzzled by her response. "I'm licensed for concealed carry. It would probably be a good idea to teach you to fire a weapon. We can go to a firing range for that."

"No."

"Sweetheart ...."

"No. I won't fire a gun."

"Leia ...."

She stood up and walked away from him, retreating into the living room area, and looking out the window with her arms crossed as if she was hugging herself. By the time Bucky got there, he realized she was crying, and he pulled his handkerchief out for her to use. She looked at it for a moment, then took it and wiped her eyes.

"My little brother was only five years old," she said. "He was so sweet but a pest, loved playing tricks on his big sister." She wavered and Bucky put his hand out to her, but she pushed it away. "My dad had a handgun, and he would let Mikey watch him practice shooting targets. He was supposed to keep it in a locked safe but that day he put it in the nightstand drawer because he needed to get cigarettes. Mom was working. I was writing a story in the kitchen when he left and had just finished when I heard the gun go off."

She sank to the floor, weeping. This time she didn't push Bucky away as he sat with his legs on either side of her, wrapping his arms around her.

"You don't have to say anything," he murmured, realizing why she was upset about Edward mentioning her father. "I understand."

"I have to," she whispered. "I've only ever told my therapist since it happened." She took a shaky breath. "The bullet went into his abdomen. I called 911 right away and they were there within minutes, along with the police, because it was a shooting. I told them it was Dad's gun and that it should have been in the gun safe. Told them how he had stepped out for cigarettes and must have left it in the nightstand where Mikey found it. They sent a unit to find him and located his truck at his girlfriend's house. My dad was cheating on my mom. They asked him about his handgun, where he stored it. He admitted being in a hurry to get out of the house and leaving it in the nightstand. That's when they told him about Mikey. They arrested him and wouldn't let him come to the hospital. My brother died that night and so did any love I ever had for my dad. I was only 12. Mom divorced Dad and we moved to another small town to live with my grandparents. Mikey was cremated and Mom kept the ashes for a long time until I scattered his and her ashes together after she died. I kept writing as part of my therapy when I was a teenager to get over Mikey dying and my dad being a cheating bastard." She wiped her nose. "The next town was a nice place to grow up and I was happy there. Didn't miss my dad at all. He didn't even try to contact us. I met Jake in college, married him and he came back with me, then he cheated on me, just like my dad cheated on my mom. At least we didn't have any kids to find a handgun that was lying around."

"Hey, it's alright," said Bucky, still holding her close. "What happened to you is something that will always be with you. I'm glad you trusted me enough to share that with me." They sat quietly for a time. "I won't force you to use a gun, but I still need to have one. For me, they're a tool. I don't normally carry one or keep one in the apartment because I take gun safety seriously. But, to keep you safe, I'll need one and when I'm not wearing it, I will keep it in a locked gun safe. The other weapon that I use is a knife, kept in an ankle holster that holds two extra magazines for my gun." She stayed very still as he told her. "I'm telling you this upfront because I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I know how to use many weapons, but I don't make a habit of carrying any of them unless I'm on a job. To protect you, I have to have something ready to use. I'm not asking for permission, but I want you to understand why I need them."

She breathed heavily for a time, then slumped a little before turning towards him and leaning into his body. Gently, she touched his face with her fingertips, tracing his lips as he kissed them. Lowering his face closer to hers, he hovered over her lips, then barely touched them with his, feeling the whisper of her breath on his face. With a delicate touch, he kissed her, his lips open but his tongue still in his own mouth, waiting for permission to kiss her more intimately. When she pressed her tongue onto his, Bucky accepted it, allowing her the control. As she shifted to straddle his lap, he leaned back against the wall, then placed his hands at the hem of her top, before sliding them up underneath and splaying his hands around her midsection. Just as he was about to unhook her bra, his phone rang, making him hesitate. It stopped ringing and he continued running his hands up her back. The phone rang again, and she exhaled then shook her head, getting off his lap. Retrieving his phone from the kitchen table she handed it to him and went to the bedroom. He looked at the two missed calls, seeing they were from the same number.

"Barnes here," he said, after he redialed. "You were trying to phone me?"

"Burnham," said the man. "Can you two be ready to be picked up in 20 minutes?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"Another letter," he said. "We need Ms. Dunn to explain some of the references. We also need to meet about whether you're joining the team, so you can be read in on what we have."

"I'm in," replied Bucky. "We'll be downstairs waiting. Are you picking us up?"

"Yeah, it will be me. See you soon."

Pocketing his phone he went to the bedroom, expecting to see Leia lying down, but she was making the bed.

"They're picking us up in 20 minutes," he announced. "Another letter has arrived, and they also want to read me in on what they've learned so far." She didn't say anything. "Leia."

"I heard you," she answered a little coldly, putting the finishing touches on the bed.

She approached to go past him, but he put his hand out, taking her hand to stop her.

"Are we good?"

Looking up at him, she smiled wanly.

"You're asking after what we were doing on the floor?" A raised eyebrow was his response, and her face softened. "We're good. I'm sorry I got angry about the gun. Even though it's been almost 20 years since it happened, I still remember the smell of gunpowder in the room, mixed with the smell of his blood. I have PTSD too, but I understand you need to be ready for anything. I'll deal with it."

She hugged him quickly, then moved past him to clean up the breakfast dishes, accepting his help with them. They got down to the lobby seconds before Burnham arrived. On the ride to Manhattan, he watched the couple, noticing a change in their dynamic. Although there was still open affection between them, evident by how they held hands, he detected some tension. Hopefully, it wouldn't affect the assignment.

Their destination, an office in a Midtown building, was accessed by some high-level security that Bucky recognized as Stark technology. Leia was set up as a guest. His access was set up via several different methods, including a voice print, iris scan and retinal scan, redundant in the event security was ever breached.

Welcome Manchurian Candidate read the display on the security panel after the last part of Bucky's inputs, bringing a grunt out of him and a questioning look at Burnham. He shrugged.

"Apparently, Tony Stark had a profile already created for you to join the Avengers after the battle with Thanos. He assigned all code names; that was yours. It's still in the system." The door slid open. "We can change it if you want."

"No, it's fine. I watched the movie he got it from, and it was an apt description of what I once was."

Entering what was definitely a secure area they followed Burnham to a conference room with a display screen on one wall, where Pepper Stark, Happy Hogan, and two other men were waiting. They were introduced to Bucky as John DaSilva and Dan Schultz, the rest of Burnham's team.

"Well, I guess you need an explanation," said Pepper, speaking first. "One of the reasons we suggested Leia move to New York is that she began receiving disturbing letters from a stalker. They knew where she lived and worked and knew her real name as well as other details that a stranger wouldn't have known. We were hoping that relocating here under her pen name would make it harder for them to find her. We don't think Edward is the guy though. He doesn't fit most of the profile."

"You profiled her stalker? That's pretty serious, isn't it?" He realized something and looked at Burnham. "You're not private security."

"No, we're all active FBI agents but that doesn't leave this room." The older man looked at Leia. "Sorry, Ms. Dunn, but it was felt it would be better if we were behaving as private security and not agents on duty. Your relationship with Sergeant Barnes opened up some possibilities for this assignment which is why I agreed about seconding him to be part of the detail. With him being easily recognized, the stalker would likely think twice about making a move."

"I told you last night I'm in a relationship with her. That should disqualify me as a bodyguard."

"Normally, yes." Pepper looked at him earnestly. "But you are a professional, and there is already a level of trust between you that will work to your benefit. We'll arrange for a new apartment in a new neighbourhood for you two to share. What goes on inside of that apartment is your business, but we want to keep Leia safe. She doesn't deserve to be harassed the way she has been. Which brings us back to Edward Ruskin and the latest letter. Agent Burnham."

The agent placed his attention on Bucky. "You spotted Ruskin last night. He shouldn't have even made it in there. Even though he's basically harmless, he got close to her too easily and so could the stalker without us even knowing who he is."

"How did he get in?" asked Bucky. "How do you know for sure that he's not the stalker?"

"He follows Ms. Dunn's official social media that is curated by the publisher. They posted news of the event several weeks ago inviting retailers to come in and meet the newest and hottest authors to boost Christmas sales. He created a fake profile, but it got rejected as they at least did their due diligence there, but he showed up anyway and bribed a server to let him in through the wait staff entry. We compared his writing to the writing in the letters. The handwriting and his style of writing don't match. In the meantime, I think given the level of trust Ms. Dunn has with you, that you and she stay very close together. As Mrs. Stark just said, a new apartment can be arranged for you, with two bedrooms. It will be in a secure building. I will continue to be your driver if you need to go anywhere. You can use a food delivery service that we've vetted to get groceries or takeout."

"I already told you I don't want to be locked up like a bird in a cage," said Leia. "I'm a writer and I need the freedom to go out and observe life. Can't do that if I'm confined to that apartment on the tenth floor. Will this new one be even higher up, taking me even further away from life? Will you have people spying on me from other buildings?"

Bucky put his hand on hers, calming her. "We don't need to move. I know our neighbourhood well and now that I know more about Leia's security needs, I'm more than capable of keeping track of anyone who doesn't belong around her. If you want to be background surveillance, that's fine, but she should continue to live a normal life, going out, buying groceries, having coffee at the coffee shop, etc. To do otherwise isolates her and that can also put her in danger as the stalker might escalate to extreme measures to get to her. If he's really set on it, he'll still find a way to infiltrate where she is." He watched as the others considered his observations. "I would like some help in moving some clothes and my cat into Leia's apartment. Can't exactly walk through the streets of Brooklyn with luggage and a cat carrier without drawing attention."

"Yeah, I'll take you," said the FBI agent. "What about weapons?"

"I have my own, but I need to go to a storage locker for them. I have a licence for concealed carry."

"Well, that saves us having to apply for that on your behalf," remarked Burnham. "I'll provide you with a copy of the letters that have been received so far. We have another that was delivered yesterday but not sorted until last night. I'm not going to show the whole letter, Ms. Dunn, as there are some unsettling scenarios in it but there are two references which concern us, as it indicates a level of familiarity that confirms this person knows you, maybe not personally but they know far too much about you for it to be a coincidence." He opened an iPad and brought up a document, then transferred it to the display screen. Five sentences, handwritten and isolated from two separate sections appeared.

Did you really mourn Mikey? Or was he just another brother you didn't really love and were so eager to abandon?

20 years is a long time to pretend he meant something. He didn't even rate a story in your precious book. None of us did.

Leia gasped, placing her hand over her mouth as she looked at Bucky. He placed his arm around her then glanced at Burnham, wondering about coincidences.

"He's referring to my younger brother." Her voice faltered. "He died almost 20 years ago, after playing with my father's handgun. I wrote about him in therapy for my PTSD, as I'm the one who was home when he was shot. My dad had run out for cigarettes but was really with his mistress."

"That has to be related to the appearance of the letters," said Burnham. "Twenty-year anniversary of your brother's death. What's the exact date?"

"January 2, 2005. One month from now is the anniversary." She shook her head. "Why would he say another pesky brother? I only had one brother, Mikey. He was a pest, always playing tricks on me but I loved him. We always laughed." Her face broke. "Did my dad have a child with his girlfriend?"

"We'll check that out. The shooting and the death of your brother was investigated by police, wasn't it?" She nodded. "We'll get the official file on that."

"The shooting didn't happen in the town she was living in most recently," added Bucky. "You've been looking for someone who once lived or currently lives there. She moved there with her mother after Mikey's death and the divorce from her father. Ruskin mentioned her father as well, so how did he know?"

Burnham's grim face said it all; they were starting back at square one.

"We have to redo the profile," he announced. "Ms. Dunn, we'll need your help verifying the information on that file." He turned to Happy. "Mr. Hogan, would you be able to drive Sergeant Barnes to his apartment to pick up what he needs? We will keep Ms. Dunn here until he's settled at the other apartment. We'll bring her back then." He spread his hands apart, for emphasis. "We'll figure this out."

With the meeting over, the three agents went to acquire a digital copy of the file and prepare to interview Leia about her recollections of her younger brother's death. Before she went with them Bucky held her, then kissed her on top of her head. Pepper waited while Happy went to get his vehicle.

"Leia, I'll stay here with you, but I just want a word with Bucky before he goes," said Pepper. After Leia left, she turned to Bucky. "Is everything alright between you two?"

"It's a little tense as she's uncomfortable around firearms," he said. "Understandably. What did you need to see me about?"

She sighed. "I don't like intruding on people's private lives but what's happened to you?"

"I don't know what you mean." He looked away.

"Yes, you do. You won't even make eye contact with me. Tony would try to baffle me with his bullshit when I asked him uncomfortable questions whereas you detach yourself by looking away or ignoring questions." He huffed a little but impassively looked at her, waiting to be scolded. "Heaven help me from big strong men with PTSD that don't like appearing weak. Bucky, you're a millionaire but you live in a tiny one-bedroom flat. You own one suit, numerous jeans, and T-shirts, barely any furniture, and you're floundering. You rarely stay in contact with Sam and the rest of us seem to be relegated to being ignored. What happened after the Flag Smashers? We all thought you had purpose after that."

He should have been angry at Pepper knowing private details of his life, but she was right; having described him so succinctly. Running his hand through his hair, then squeezing the back of his neck to relieve the tension he felt, he breathed out.

"I thought I could build a new life in Delacroix, but it felt like I was being too dependent on Sam and his family to make me feel good. I came back to Brooklyn to give my notice to the landlord, but I just couldn't do it. It didn't feel right; it felt like running away, so I stayed. Sam's been busy lobbying and recruiting new Avengers. I'm still not comfortable dealing with people." She looked at him in disbelief. "Maybe I have floundered. I admit to feeling alone and lonely, but I wanted to deal with it myself and prove that I could manage." He looked to the door where Leia had left. "Then I met her, and, in just a few days, I feel like I used to, before the war." He shook his head. "She told me about her brother this morning after I mentioned teaching her to fire a gun. We dealt with it. She's not happy about me carrying one but she knows that I need it to protect her."

"So, you're still okay with taking the job, being with her 24/7 until the FBI find out who is stalking her."

"I'll do it because I care about her," he said. "I can compartmentalize the emotional relationship from the professional one. You don't have to pay me. I don't want the money. Donate it to a veteran's charity if you're required by law to compensate me. But don't keep me in the dark about anything that happens."

"Alright." She looked sharply at him. "Are you still in therapy? From what I heard that Dr. Raynor was a real piece of work but she's who the army wanted. I think they harboured a few fantasies about getting you back into a special forces' unit and she was there to prepare you to be a soldier again."

"Instead of the Avengers, like Tony planned?" A flicker of hurt passed across her face. "Sorry. I only found out when Burnham set me up to get inside here and the computer welcomed me as the Manchurian Candidate. It's what he called me before the shit hit the fan in Siberia. It was a pretty accurate description."

She came closer, sitting on the edge of the conference table.

"He struggled after Siberia. He had already been proven wrong when he realized Zemo set you up, then when he found out the Winter Soldier killed his parents it was like everything he believed in was laid to waste. He did a deep dive into the files, including quite a few film and video clips of your treatment. I don't know if he would have ever forgiven you on an emotional level, but intellectually he understood that the real enemy was HYDRA and everyone who kept you in bondage to them. He wanted you to have purpose, and a means to be of service to humanity by offering you a place with the Avengers, working alongside Steve." She smiled sadly. "Then he died, Steve went back to the 1940s and I mourned. I did what I was capable of at the time, which was providing those files for your defence and paying for your lawyer. I could have done more to make you aware that I would support you and I'm sorry I didn't. You must have felt so alone at times... still do, I think."

Breathing out, Bucky looked at the floor, then at her.

"What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other's folly - that is the first law of nature." She seemed uncertain with his words. "Voltaire said that. Much of my isolation was self-imposed as I still really haven't pardoned myself. But that's my cross to bear and I'm still working on it. I do see a therapist, but I also read a lot of philosophy, and I try to practice self love. I'll get there, someday." He stood up and went to the door, then looked back at her. "How's that for a big strong man with PTSD? Vulnerability is hard for any man. It's not how we were raised, especially in my time. I'm still working on that as well."

With a slight smile, he was gone and Pepper Stark realized she had just been called out for thinking of Bucky and even Tony as stereotypical males. Bucky Barnes was an enigma. Tall, dark, and handsome, but also appearing stoic and brooding, he was smarter and deeper than he appeared. A man like that could do great things, things that mattered. It was more than serendipitous that he and Leia were involved in a relationship. If she were a more romantic type, Pepper would have called it fate that the two found each other.

⏳ ⌛️

It was getting dark outside, and it started to snow again.  Alpine watched the large snowflakes falling lazily past the 10th floor window of Leia's apartment, occasionally batting at one that came too close to the window.  Bucky, reading the FBI file on Leia, while he waited for her to return, looked up from time to time when he heard Alpine's paws hit the window.  This guy, and Bucky was sure it was a guy, was obsessed with her. His initial letters were a little strange, explaining how he learned about a beautiful author from a friend. Imagine his surprise when he saw Leia at the farmer’s market from a distance and recognized her as his childhood friend Mikey’s older sister. The sharp turn in the tone of the letters came as he expressed his disappointment that she didn’t recognize him whenever their eyes met. That’s when he began outlining his plan to bring her back to her roots, and show her that he was the right man for her. His words were disturbing, expressing a desire to subject her to his will, while taking care of her better than her ex-husband did. The most recent letter was obscene and Bucky was glad they didn’t show her those parts. So far, it seemed the stalker didn’t know where in the New York area she lived but he was looking. A message came through on Bucky’s cell phone and he put the file away in his bag, then unlocked the door to the apartment and walked to the elevator.  It opened to Leia and Agent Burnham, who casually saluted Bucky and pushed the down button, leaving her with him. 

"Sorry, we're so late," she said, as she stood in front of him in the hallway. "It took a while to go through the official file of my brother's death and the birth records with my father listed as the biological dad." She looked up at Bucky, her eyes haunted. "The stalker might be my half-sibling.” That was disturbing if the stalker knew that and harboured sexual fantasies about her. “My dad was an absolute bastard. He fathered at least three more children with three different women, other than my mother. I don't even know if she knew, and I can't ask her because she died of cancer two years ago."

Putting his arm around her shoulders, Bucky walked her back to the apartment. She brightened up when she saw Alpine, kneeling down and putting her hand out to the finicky feline, who decided to play nice and approached readily, rubbing against Leia's hand. After helping her off with her coat and giving her a quick shoulder massage while she sat at the table, Bucky pulled a casserole from the oven and a salad from the fridge. His actions almost brought Leia to the edge of tears, but she swallowed and smiled appreciatively at him instead, allowing herself to enjoy the meal. Later, when everything had been put away and cleaned up, he turned off most of the lights, put some music on, and sat with Leia on his lap and Alpine on hers. While the snow fell outside, they were quiet, not talking, just being in the moment; something they both needed after the day that started well, then took a left turn into uncharted territory.

Later, in the stillness of the bedroom, they resumed what was interrupted earlier in the day. They were hesitant at first; a tentative kiss was followed by Leia perched on his lap while the languid touch of a cool hand reached up under her T-shirt. Bucky's hands traced the contours of her breasts after she bared herself to him, before moving to her back, bringing her closer to him. Hungrily, he mouthed her breasts, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nipples while she pressed her body against his growing erection. When she seated herself fully on him, gasping at the intensity of it all, he soothed her, reminding her to breathe through it, remaining still for her to get used to his size. Watching her ride him, was like worshiping an idol at an altar. She was so beautiful, with her face raised to the heavens, and the way her hands fluttered over her own body then to his, grasping and kneading as the waves of pleasure rippled through her and into him and back again.

"We must be lovers in another universe," he thought at one point. "How are we doing this so instinctively?"

They just knew the parts of each other's body that was most sensitive and responsive, without words or gestures. It happened organically, as if they had been together for years instead of days. The moment of coming was transcendent, reinforcing his belief that despite everything, this convergence of the two of them was right and meant to be. He had his small flat, while she had this apartment, but home was them, inhabiting the same small space, breathing the same air, in a communion of mind, body and soul. It felt ... right.

Part 4>>

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[lyneytricks]

if i see another video making out scara's resentment towards ei to not matter and be wrong because of ei's intentions when abandoning him i'm going to literally throw something out of a window.

it doesn't matter what ei's intention was!! she literally abandoned him during the most important part of his life. idgaf if he looked the same as he does now, he was a child and he didn't know shit. ei just!! left him!! the fact that she had no ill intention doesn't dismiss the fact that it was harmful!!

(also let's not forget that she let him to sleep. for like. years. until someone found him. isn't that worse than death? how could you claim to "set someone free" when you throw them out as a lifeless corpse, not able to do anything until they are found? how could you say that?)

imagine using that logic on a crime dawg. yeah i killed them but it wasn't my intention so now their loved ones can't be mad at me for doing so, and they also need to forgive me. WHAT THE FUCK???

even wanderer says it in his voicelines. jesus christ. ("she completely neglected her own creation, and to add insult to injury, she said it was because she 'couldn't bring herself to intervene' in my fate..")

small p.d: i almost forgot about the feather ei gave him. (almost everyone does i'm ngl) yes, it was a way to, i guess 'protect him'? in a way? but, the fact that she gave him one thing (that does hold value, yeah, but god) while never even aknowledging his existence does not make her better.

(i can't remember the exact line in the HOOD set but oh my god. that "and she will not abandon you" someone says when seeing the feather, him knowing full well that she has done that. oh my god i need someone to hold me down)

[keischreiber]

I don't think it's too far-fetched to assume that for Reiner, love is conditional. (At first, at least)

And he would need someone who actually loves him with no strings attached to show him that love doesn't come with superficial conditions.

Because for the longest time, Reiner has been running after the most basic form of love that he can get as a human being... which is the acceptance and love of his parent(s). He goes through so much lengths just to prove that he is worth their acceptance, goes through so much pains just to prove that he is someone that they can be proud to call their son. The condition to be loved? Becoming a hero.

He's so enamored with the concept of kindness, that when he feels like someone gives it to him, he falls head over heels for that person. When does he experience this? When Krista tends to his wounds, showing so much concern that she even ripped part of her skirt just to help him. The condition to be loved? Getting hurt.

Reiner has been surrounded by people who hardly cared about him unless he does something worthy of their attention, that he literally cannot see the value in forgiving himself; or in being redeemed. It shows in the last chapters where he was bracing himself for rejection for losing the Armor. He was so ready to accept that he's nothing but a disappointment without it; that his mother wouldn't love him any more... because for so long, having it and becoming an Honorary Marleyan were the requirements that he met for receiving what little love and recognition that he actually got.

And even those, he learned were things that shouldn't have been for him to begin with.

Reiner does so much to prove himself; does so much just to earn what little he can keep.

And I think he needs a person to genuinely just want him. Not for anything like being the Armor, or an honorary Marleyan. Not for being a hero, or a warrior. But just for being himself. True enough, being a soldier and being a warrior, being the Armor has become part of who he is... but sometimes, I can't help but wonder... if he ever thinks him without all of this, is enough. Or does he still need to become more than what he is after all is said and done, just to be accepted and loved by those around him.

I feel like Reiner is the type who will over exert himself to make not just his partner, but those around him happy. He's going to overcompensate because that's how it's been for so long. It's very toxic and draining to him. And he's probably going to panic and be frantic if he accidentally hurts the person that he's chosen to be with. And he does have moments where he's not so gentle; where he gets angry, where he explodes. When it gets too much, he's going to be the one to take all the blame to make it easier for everyone.

He needs healthy relationships that allow him to just be himself where he can see that who he was before, and who he is now... who he becomes in the future is a person that is accepted and cared for. Reiner isn't the type to make excuses for himself when he realized the truth; so he doesn't expect the people around him to patronize him or make excuses for him either. He needs people to be with him in the moment, so that he doesn't slip and forget that he as he is now, is enough and worthy of love.

[renslo161605]

PART THIRTEEN - DEAD FOX (written form /w illustrations)

Isaac had spent hours being tortured by O'Driscolls. He is barely alive. They have him tied to a tree, not as if he can go far.

Read under cut \/

"Isaac. Pst. Isaac wake up."

"please... I'm begging you. I don't want any more trouble. If your gonna give me more grief just put me down, i beg."

Isaac had spent the entire night with nothing but torture from the other O'Driscoll's. He didn't even recognise Dermot's voice, he just wanted peace.

"i mean it boy. Get up n'keep quiet."

"please, please, I don't want anymore trouble just shoot me."

A pathetic plea muffled by tiredness and the ground.

Dermot gave Isaac a gentle kick to encourage him up.

Isaac finally realised who was talking to him, reluctantly he dragged himself up, limping and lethargic as he was.

An emotion Isaac couldn't read flashed over Dermot's eyes. He looked him up and down, at his wounds and at his shaking legs. A mix of pity, guilt and, grief maybe even loss?

"good god, they've really torn ye' up."

Isaac looked at the ground.

"are you still mad at me?"

Funny how even after endorsing the second worst punishment possible - torture, right behind death - a child will still look for forgiveness from a parent.

But Dermot didn't answer.

"Get movin', yer' horse is waitin' fer us."

Despite his harsh tone, Dermot wrapped and arm around Isaac and untied him from the tree he was bound to.

"your helpin' me?"

A tiny spark of hope.

"shut up, don't want anyone hearin' you."

Dermot practically dragged Isaac into the deeper woods. Silently, Isaac didn't argue. What could he do? As far as he was aware Dermot wanted him dead. As loving as Dermot was to isaac. Loyalty comes before love, be it conscious or subconscious. And Dermot was loyal to the O'Driscolls.

Isaac, could barely see, whether it was from exhaustion, pain or the swollen eyelid covering his vision be didn't know. His body ached all over, he didn't think there was a square inch of him not beaten or bruised by a former associate.

Eventually, they emerged from the shrubs to a clearing. There waited Midge. Her gorgeous, pitch black mane looked like a void in the dark of night. Her eyes lit up at the site of Isaac and she trotted towards him. She wasn't used to all the tack Dermot had equipped her with, it was his own tack. A saddle back also sat across her flanks, presumably Isaacs things.

"You - You really are helping me escape. B-but wheres Daisy, whys Midge got all her tack on."

"isaac i can't... I'm not..." Dermot stuttered and Isaac was sure he saw his lip quiver.

"your not what?"

Isaac's heart had awakened with hope and he was thinking much more coherently now.

"Daisy's... Old. Your horse will go further with less dead weight."

Dermot eventually sighed. He grabbed Isaacs shoulder, tighter than normal.

"Isaac. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. Really I am."

"what do you mean? I'm the one who-"

"no. I'm an adult. I should've listened to you and what you said about Keiran. Oh, Keiran."

Isaac started to tear up, he had forgotten about Keiran, how could be have forgotten about Keiran?

"But I'm an old man now. And forever an O'Driscoll. It's what I'll die as. It's who I am. I chose that path a long time ago. But you don't need to choose that path. Make your own life. Your an amazing little boy. Your love for horses is something that could take you far. Use it. Forget about how you were raised, forget about your blood. Change your name if you have to."

"why are you telling me this? Dermot I'm scared."

"oh I'm sure you are, mac, I'm sure you are. But without fear there would be no bravery. And you, have been braver than any boy your age should have been. Come here."

He yanked Isaac into a hug. He held him tight, put his hand on the back of isaacs head and swayed. Almost like he was rocking a babe to sleep, something he had never done to him since he had never known Isaac as a baby. Still he held the boy he raised, the baby-boy he had never had, the boy he had bathed, the boy he had tucked in, the boy he combed the hair of, the boy he dressed. Loved as his own. The child whose relationship was not bound by blood but by a mutual loss. And he loved and he loved, until he had to let go.

Floods of tears spilled from Isaacs eyes. Expected, but also Dermot's eyes.

"C'mon, let's go."

He lifted Isaac up, like he was lifting him onto an unusually high countertop, about to patch up another scraped knee. Placed him on top of his horse. The horse he had given him. His first horse. He stared at the scar on his chin, a wound he had treated when he first met him.

"I HEAR 'EM, THEY'RE IN THE WOODS. "

"C'mon Dermot we gotta go! Get on!"

Dermot stood on his toes, reaching up to Isaacs face and gently placed a hand on it.

To Isaac, Dermot had never looked older than he did in that moment, his dulling ginger hair truely frayed with the white. His green eyes started to grey. The wrinkles on his face twisted into a sob, his flesh was sunken and weary.

"What are you doing! They're coming Dermot! We have to go please"

Isaac grabbed Dermot's hand and desperately tried to haul him up, of course it did nothing.

To Dermot. Isaac had never looked so young. Had never seen him cry like a child. Like a child should, something bitter sweet about seeing it for the first and last time.

"WE FOUND 'EM, THEY'RE IN THE SHRUBS!"

"I love you, son."

Dermot smacked Midge and yelled something Isaac didn't catch. Midge bounded away. Without Dermot on her back.

"Dermot! Wait! No! We need to go back! Midge stop!"

Isaac pleaded.

In the distance he could see a horde of O'Driscolls engulf Dermot. He desperately tries to yank on the reins. But somehow Midge new the mission. She knew she couldn't stop.

"Stop! Miriam Bridget you stop right now and turn back for Dermot, I mean it!"

He yanked on the reins, her hair, her saddle horn. Anything he could grab but she didn't stop for anything. She knew there was nothing they could do.

"please! I'm begging you!"

Isaac draped himself forward onto her neck, an exhausted attempt. He couldn't bring his frail body to do much more.

"please."

The steady drum of horses hooves beat his ears. And tears stung his face. He couldn't see much. His eyes had started closing, he fought it as much as he could.

Eventually he gave in. He let his body finally rest. It felt pathetic. Like a baby who hadn't had a nap yet. And in the back of his mind he knew he'd wake up to next to nothing. No parents, no home, no money, No Dermot. Just his horse. Always his horse.

[bitchypizzabeliever]

Story of hypersexuality (I was 6-7)

This is me.

This is my cousin.

We're the same gender. We're girls.

But, when we were younger. She would talk about sex with me and then, one day she asked, "Can I h_mp you?" I had asked what it meant and she explained what it was. I said yes. Thinking it was a good thing. Then..

She immediately straddled me and did what she said she wanted to do. Ever since, I have felt things I wish I have never felt. The feeling of desiring sex and sexual activities.

Now, I question, "If someone shows love, is it real?" I can't feel comfortable with relationships anymore from how badly this affected me.

This may not be as bad as other people's stories, but it still counts. This trauma my cousin has given me has turned into this and although we get along now, I can never forget what disgusting things she has done to me. I wish I could forgive her, but I am always going to be stopped from it. Hearing, "Don't forgive her. She hurt you. She touched you and even tried to imply having sex with you. She will never be forgiven." I am scared to say this to my parents. I don't think it'll change anything. It could happen again.

[10underoot2]

Saddest Scene in Queen of Tears yet

This scene is so utterly sad. It always makes me feel so many emotions and I'm so scared years down the line I'll forget why I love it so much. So here's everything it makes me feel and what I think it makes these two feel as well.

We can't start this scene without context. Haein says this Hyunwoo a few hours before they meet in the rain: 'Why did you send the flowers? And the condolence money? Stop playing. You digust me. Even if I forget my memory down the road, I will never forget what you did to me. You let go of my hand when I was the most helpless. I will never forgive you. Try all you want but I will resent you till my dying breath. So all you need to do is stay still and get lost when I tell you to.'

Here's the short version of the post and their thoughts. You can the more detailed version of my analysis of this scene here.

Hyunwoo's thoughts:

- She said she'll resent me forever but she doesn't remember. She's so loving and so warm right now.

- This is my Haeina. How did I forget who I fell in love with. This is what it used to be like. Why didn't I work harder to get her to smile like this at me before? Why did this disease have to remind me?

- We've had this conversation before. She doesn't remember. How bad has it been for her?

- What have I done to her? I should have been there for her. She said I left her hand when she was the most helpless. Why wasn't I there? And I still can't be there?!

- I'll have to tell her everything again, won't I?

- There it is she loves me. She loves me? She never really stopped did she? She did love me....all along.

Haeina's Thoughts

- First blow: Oh we've went to Germany this is so disorienting. I still don't remember if I got treated? Did the treatment not work then?

- What is he saying? I love him so much. We love each other why would he divorce me? And why haven't I retaliated against him then?

- Second blow; Oh. I remember. His harsh words. I'm so hurt and so embarrassed. Time to let go.

[miraculousweb]

If Gabriel was, while not a good person, was a good father, partner and friend AU

The Wish Aftermath

Gabriel Agreste, the last will and testament/the last letter (or something):

"I leave my trusted friend, partner and confident , Nathalie, with whom I've asked too much already, my butterfly brooch. To my son, Adrian I leave his mother's peacock brooch, know that I am so proud of you. To my dearest wife, Emilie,I return to you the tome I've had within my possession, and I give you my sincerest apologies and regret for the mess I've no doubt left behind. I'm sorry that you have to find out this way, that I've done too many unspeakable things that I can't even begin to list them, I regret that I'll never get the chance to tell you in person or express how sorry I am for all of this. All I can offer you is perhaps hollow excuses and explanations. Duusu, though they owe me nothing, has agreed to pass on my follies and my failings, for you to judge and decide if or how you wish to remember me by.

I regret, so so many things, I am regret that I never got the chance to say goodbye to you my wife, my love, my heart and soul, then or now. I regret that I am not brave enough to face my precious child, my son, my light, before my final moments. I cannot even begin to ask for either of your forgiveness, for these transgressions against you and against those whose lives I've hurt, for the tarnished legacy I leave behind, and all the broken pieces I've left behind for you to pick up in my stead. As the end grows closer I am both terrified and relieved, I know I have no right to make any last requests of anyone but I beg of you, please don't blame Natalie, she did everything she could to mitigate my actions. Do not condemn her for my mistakes. I am sorrowful and guilty for all the pain and suffering I've caused and I alone take the full responsibility for it, she is not responsible for my wrongdoings.

I leave you with these final words, and though I know they are not enough, I know I must press forward still, and write them.

Emilie, I've missed you, with all my heart, mind and soul, and I love you, more than I could ever love myself, more than enough to trade my life for yours in a heartbeat. Please live your life, and take care of Adrien for me, won't you?

Adrien, my darling boy, my only son and child, in the darkest of times, you have been the brightest light that shines, never lose sight of that strength within. I never said it enough, I never told you, not in so many words, just how much I love you and how proud I am of you. Be there for your mother, but don't forget to take care of yourself too. I know I've always demanded too much of you, so consider this my blessing to make your own demands from life and live it to the fullest in whatever way is best for you. It's your turn to decide what life you want to live.

Nathalie, my oldest and dearest friend, thank you. Thank you for everything. I'm sorry for leaving you behind, for putting you through all this, and abandoning you to pick up the pieces in my stead. I wish you nothing but the best, and I want you to know that no matter what anyone says, you are family. I will forever be grateful to you. Goodbye old friend

I love each of you, may you be able to rest easy from here on out without me

Sincerely

Husband, Father, and Friend

Gabriel Agreste "

[starryjuicebox]

Beloved (6) - Confession

Summary: Stella can't hold it inside any longer.

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Tav

Word Count: 611 words

Masterlist | Ao3 Link | Next Chapter

Marpenoth 1492 

Today, with my help, Astarion completed the Rite of Profane Ascension. I don’t know what possessed me to even agree after my pleas fell on deaf ears. I was so numb. I tried to persuade him to change his mind, but I was too weak. I can barely even remember it. Everything after my failure was just black, black, black. I just want to forget. All the screams. All the blood. The disappointment from our friends. What have I done? 

Oak Father, please forgive me. I will never feel your warm embrace again. I have damned both my lover and myself to a dark, twisted eternity. What would Aelia say? I can never speak to her again. How could I have let this happen? 

Stella Lunaris

“Why are you apologizing.” It was not a question. 

His consort stilled for just a moment, before wiping the tears from her eyes and finally meeting his gaze. “I… I helped Halsin complete Jaheira’s research. After we told her children of her passing, they gave him her notes. When we all reconnected at Shadowheart’s wedding, he pulled me aside.  He was…worried about me. About us.” 

Her voice was trembling; from fear, sorrow, or a mixture of both, Astarion wasn’t sure. 

Why had she kept this from him for two centuries? He hardly remembered the wedding, it had been so long ago. Both Shadowheart and her wife had since passed. He had seen them speaking briefly at the respective funerals… it seemed Halsin had been meddling in their affairs for far longer than he’d originally thought. 

“He was worried about you? And why would he be? We are flourishing.”

To him, they truly were. Astarion had everything he ever wanted. The Crimson Palace was his to rule, and he had redesigned every single aspect of the interior. Not a single trace of that wretch he would never speak of again remained. Every room had a vase filled with fresh flowers (his dear consort’s insistence) and gold was never an issue - he occupied three vaults in the Counting House. He also occupied a seat on the Council of Four and had his fingers in every proverbial pie around Baldur’s Gate. 

So why was his darling so forlorn? 

Stella hesitated, biting her lip. Her eyes flickered over to the window before lowering once more. “He just wanted to make sure I was happy, that’s all.” 

She wasn’t telling him the truth, he could feel it. Anger surged in his chest, and he fought hard to keep it down. 

“I know when you lie to me, little love. We’ve been together for three centuries,” he sighed, tucking a strand of her silky hair behind a pointed ear. 

Closing her eyes, his consort continued. “Halsin said I seemed nothing like myself anymore. That he wasn’t certain I was… doing well. Then, he asked me to help him finish Jaheira’s research, since I am Faithwarden.” 

Astarion paused. How dare the Archdruid accuse him of mistreating her? Anything she asked for, he would provide. She wanted for nothing, he made sure of it! 

“For a while after that…we exchanged letters and worked on completely deciphering the ritual, until he had completed it.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows. Something still wasn’t making sense. He didn’t particularly care whether or not their former companions lived or died. Only Gale and Halsin remained, and one of them had quite literally become a god. Why was this such a secret? “So why keep this from me, then? It’s not as if I don’t allow you to help your friends.”

The answer came in the smallest of whispers. “Because he wanted to see me be free.”