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yurunivo · 1 month ago

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Hello! I'm not sure if i'm the one but can we get some more Mavuika x Creator! Reader (gender neutral) in which the creator is falling deeply in love with Mavuika and the creator is slowly getting his/hers/their memories back and awakening a little bit of power (like maybe aweking some unique element or getting better healing abilities) ?

I'm pretty sure you were the one yea. Sorry for not answering sooner I just had no motivation to write 😭

Synopsis: your time with Mavuika! (And "your" past) part 1 part 2 part 4

TW: slight angst, fluff, OOC, arguements, reader is referred to as they/them for easier use but gender is up to what you interpret as, bad writing, bad grammar, english is not my first language, slightly rushed at the end, not proofread

Characters: Mavuika x gn!creator!reader

"Please don't walk through the halls, our Archon is busy-"

"I just have a word with her, that's all."

The receptionist sighed as you glared at her and walked off. You've had a bad week, constantly getting excruciatingly painful headaches and nightmares which make you wake up in a cold sweat. What made it worse that you couldn't really remember them when you woke up, which made it all the more frustrating. That, along with the fact that your boss was giving you more work than usual was making you snappy and irritated all the time. The even more strange thing was the fact that you were seeking out Mavuika, almost as if she was a pinicle of warmth in a snowy wasteland, so you did eventually visit her.

As you reached her office door, gloved hands gently pushed it open to see her inside. Your eyes softened, and you could feel your stress slipping away. She was sleeping though, her head on a pile of documents.

"That's.. Strange. Normally she would spend a lot of time with me, did she ignore all this work just for me?" You thought to yourself. However, instead of peaking over, you decided to sit in a sofa next to her table.

Curiosity did get the better of you though.

You skipped over to her desk and found loads of papers from different nations, which was really strange considering Mavuika was more busy dealing with Natlan's problems. You picked up a few documents and read them, cringing at the insignia of the other nations.

As you kept reading, you got more confused, and certainly more angry.

"Death threats, intimidation and war threats to Natlan, and Sumeru is asking for an alliance? What the hell is going on?!" You exclaimed, not noticing how Mavuika woke up. As you were about to read more, she snatched the papers from you, and looked at you with an expression you couldn't read.

"You weren't supposed to see that."

"Well I did, too bad. Now mind explaining what the hell is this?"

She didn't answer, and you felt your patience running thin. You didn't want to raise your voice at her, but the frustration of her not telling you was too much to handle. Still, you managed to control yourself, taking deep breaths.

"I'm not going to repeat myself, what is this?"

She paused, and for a moment, she contemplated whether she would tell you or not. Guilt was on her face, yet she finally told you.

"The other nations want you back for whatever reason, and they are threatening to add more to Natlan's plate by instituting a war. Sumeru is offering to help, but that's the only consolation I have," she breathed out. Your eyes softened, and your lips trembled. Seeing Mavuika like this was making you feel negative, especially since it was about you.

You picked up her hand and held it gently, but it was also firm. You didn't know what you could really do to help, considering that you were the one that they were after.

"Listen Mavuika, I am your creator, so I should have the right to know about all this, no? I may not be strong, but it's not like I'm completely useless," you held her hand against your forehead, both of you looking away from each other.

Feeling the need to lighten her pile of work, you let her go for a moment, going up to her desk and setting up the documents. You didn't look at her, nor did she look at you.

"I'll help," you spoke up.

"You don't need to."

"I insist."

She sighed, yet reluctantly went up to you to do the same. She knew that you wouldn't really change your mind, so there was really no point in arguing any further.

For the past couple of weeks, you were there to help Mavuika. You were always at her beck and call, skipping your work to help with hers. The only thing you did however was confiscate useless documents, sign the ones that she couldn't, and carry piles of work to warehouses.

As you were walking through the place, whistling to yourself, you realized that you had just passed the place that you were supposed to be in. Noticing your mistake, you ran to that place in exasperation, not noticing how a gust of wind helped you to run faster..

"Why do I keep forgetting this shit?.." You rubbed your temples, setting the box down. Looking at all the shelves, you deadpanned at the realization that the shelves were much higher than you anticipated.

"I should've brought a ladder.." You mumbled.

Then suddenly, without any explanation, a pillar of Geo helped you up, slowly rising to the shelves. The revelation almost made you scream, but you kept it in. You were really high up, and the fact that you didn't know what was happening made it even more terrifying. Was this Zhongli's doing? To taunt you before he came to hunt you again? You couldn't really tell, the only thought running in your head was how the hell would you get down.

The even stranger thing that happened was that a gust of wind separated the boxes and placed the one that you brought without you needing to use your hands. It might've been the Anemo Archon, but the fact that if it was, he would probably not help you with anything. He would most likely make you fall instead, taunting you like Zhongli. But it didn't really make any sense. How the hell would they even reach you all the way from Natlan?

As the pillar mounted you down, you were about to run to reach Mavuika, but your temperature rose uncomfortably high, which was very unusual. The sudden change made you collapse onto the ground, golden blood seeping out of your nose. You felt yourself getting light headed as you struggled to keep yourself awake.

"Not now god dammit!" You exclaimed in your head as your vision turned blank, losing your consciousness.

....

Where were you?

You held your head, groaning at the painful sensation. You got a clearer look at your surroundings, notifying you that you weren't in Natlan. No, this place was nothing like Natlan. It was more regal, the entire place being covered by intricate gold designs. You explored the place for a bit, still trying to figure out what happened.

You walked around, then suddenly, you saw a projection in front of you. Okay, it at least confirmed that you were in a dream. But when the projection finished appearing, you saw someone whom you didn't expect to see.

It was... Nahida?

"Greetings your grace," she bowed, and you just told her to stand back up.

"Kusanali? What are you doing here?" You raised an eyebrow. Seriously today was one of the most craziest days of your life, more than when you realized that you were in the Genshin world.

"I have been trying to speak with you, your grace. It was very hard, I admit, and I may or may not have caused those nightmares, I am really sorry about that." Oh, so that's why these horrible dreams happened, and why you couldn't remember them. You smiled awkwardly, knowing that you would forgive her anyway. After all, she was the first to actually help you in this world.

"What did you need to speak with me for?" You asked.

"It's about the other nations, I want to inform you that they are currently on the hunt for you, and want you back into the position of creator," she answered, and now there were even more questions in your head. What was the strange switch up for?

"But I must ask your grace, is this what you really dream of, your throne room?" She pointed at the giant throne at the back, and you quickly went to answer.

"No, I don't dream about anything like this," you replied back in confusion. Right, was this supposed to be normal?

When you turned around to ask Nahida a question again, she was gone. Was she hiding? No, she was completely gone, you couldn't feel her presence any where, almost as if she was forced out of your dream.

You looked around more and more, only to realize that there was a carbon copy of you on the throne.

They looked exactly like you, except more regal, and more intimidating than what you could ever be. However, you did notice that they were... Crying? Tears were definitely spilling out of her eyes, yet their expression stayed the same.

Yea this was weird.

You looked around again to see the Archons behind you. You flinched at the sight, however, they weren't looking at you, rather they were looking at what you could assume to be the previous creator. Their expression was one of pity, and in almost half a second, they attacked the creator. Yet that "you" didn't move a muscle, allowing them to get a hit. As you stared at the throne, there was golden blood seeping out, yet the creator was as hard as stone.

They had sealed the creator.

....

You woke up with a gasp, feeling sweaty and uncomfortable. Looking at your hands, you saw they were trembling. Your throat felt dry, way too dry for your liking. As you reached out for the nearest liquid next to you, your hands landed on a cup of tea, which you picked up and drank immediately. You calmed down a bit, reminiscing on what you just experienced.

"So that's what happened, I wonder why.." You mumbled. You finally payed attention to where you were, and saw that you were back in Mavuika's office. Huh, you didn't remember being here last.

Finally paying attention to what was next to you, you saw a tray on a stool, and some food on it. The tea you drank just now was probably from that tray.

Your eyes wandered, and it stumbled upon Mavuika. She was on a chair too, yet she was sleeping, her arms crossed. As multiple ideas went through your head, it finally clicked.

"Was she taking care of me?" You thought, yet you were too much in a trance to wake her up and ask her. Your cheeks were flushed, and you felt them getting warmer.

You wondered what this feeling was, the way your heart started beating faster and how you felt all giddy inside.

"Ah whatever, I'll figure it out soon," you muttered, oblivious to your own feelings.

Sorry I didn't include the abilities part too much, I was more focused on the creator and Mavuika's relationship 😓

#reader insert #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere sagau #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau cult au #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau #mavuika x reader

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m00nl1ghts1vt · 24 days ago

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Pierced - Chris Sturniolo

Requested by anon Part two Pairings - bfb!Chris x fem!Reader Warnings - MDNI, strong language, mentions of nudes, mentions of nipple piercings, suggestiveness Summary - During a movie night with you best friend and his brothers, Chris takes a photo on your phone while you're in the bathroom, but what he doesn't expect to see is the most recent picture in your camera roll. W/c - 1275 A/n - Had to show Chris some love since I don't write about him enough 🥹 Chris girlies stand up!! My top post right now is Sketchbook which is about Chris!! Tags - @lvrsturniolo (if anyone else wants tagged just let me know!!) Masterlist Current Matt series - City of Love

The dimmed light of the tv flashed as the dramatic horror scene danced across the screen. It was movie night with your best friend, Nick, his brothers joining in as usual. Looking up from your phone occasionally, the movie was the last thing on your mind - you had just sent a tit pic to your current situationship. Waiting on his response made your stomach flip more intensely by the second.

“I have to pee,” you announced before setting your phone down on the coffee table and exiting the room. “Okay but hurry up. This is bitch is so about to die,” Nick calls after you. You can tell by his late response that he was really into the movie. You make your way to the hallway bathroom, hurrying the process, and washing your hands afterward.

When you exit the bathroom, making sure to flip the light off behind you, you realize you don’t have your phone. Backtracking and scoping out the bathroom, you finally remember you left it on the coffee table - unlocked at that.

You cheeks flush a dark shade of red at the thought of one of the boys seeing what you sent the guy you had been fucking the last few months. Normally it wasn’t something you’d do but you felt comfortable with him, it wasn’t a worry of the picture being shared. You had trust in your situationship, it was a secret after all. Only Nick knew because you told him everything.

You race back to the living room, hoping your phone was still on the coffee table untouched. To your dismay, you see Chris standing there with your phone in his hand and a flustered expression etched across his face. He looks up from the phone, his eyes meeting yours and quickly falling back down to your phone. Your eyes widen and you fight back the redness that’s trying to make itself known on your cheeks. You rush up to him, snatching your phone out of his hands, “why are you going through my phone?”

You look at your locked screen, face recognition immediately identifies you and unlocks your phone. You scroll up and over, accessing your open apps only to find none are open anymore. Remembering you had your messages and photos app open before you left for the bathroom, you narrow your eyes at Chris, “you were going through my phone!”

“No, I wasn’t!” Chris exclaims but his defensive tone tells you the opposite. He looks at you, letting his eyes fall to your chest for a slight moment. No fucking way. “I only took a picture,” he says after collecting himself, his voice a lot more calm now.

The kid was lying through his teeth and you knew it. Being friends with Nick for the last year, you’ve become accustomed to Chris’s bullshit white lies. When you first met him, he’d tell you all types of random things that weren’t true. He loved seeing the look on your face when you figured out it was all a little tale he put together off the top of his head. You were gullible and he thought it was hilarious. What he didn’t think was hilarious, however, was the picture of your boobs plaster across your screen when he accidentally swiped left after viewing the quick flick he took on your phone. In fact he thought it was the sexiest tit pic he had ever seen in his life. And that fact your nipples were pierced made it even better for him.

Deciding not to argue with him, you make your way to your spot. Chris’s eyes follow your every move until you sit down, “what?” you huff at him, crossing your arms over your chest. He mumbles, “nothing,” and sits down on the couch opposite from you.

He definitely saw the picture. There’s no way he didn’t.

Chris had a hard time coping with how the picture made him feel. He knew you were off limits, being Nick’s best friend, but his new discovery had him feeling different about you. He suddenly didn’t give a fuck about Nicks ‘off limits’ speech he gave him and Matt before bringing you over for the first time. Chris spent the rest of the movie glancing at you from time to time. You’d catch him often, his gaze making you shift in your seat. Little did you know - he was undressing you with his eyes the whole time.

You finish the movie with the boys around 2am, ignoring Chris's occasional glances. Nick was fast asleep on the couch and Matt had already disappeared to his room. Chris was sprawled out on the couch he was laying on. You watch as he lets out a yawn and swings his feet to the edge of the couch. Chris stands up, stretching his arms over his head, making his shirt rise and expose his lower torso. The faint happy trail literally made you want to go feral. He looks at you, this time with a knowing smirk pulls at his lips. “I’ll bring you a pillow and blanket,” striding out of the room and looking at you over his shoulder with a goofy smile.

The look on his face only makes you want to go after him, so you do. Jumping to your feet and racing out of the room. You turn the corner and as soon as Chris comes into your sight, “hey!”

He turns around to face you with the same foolish smile, “what?” Even though you hated the thought of someone seeing intimate photos of you, you’d rather it be someone you were close to rather than a stranger.

“You saw that picture, didn’t you,” the words falling out of your mouth like vomit. It was more of a statement than a question. His actions earlier in the night already confirmed your suspicions. Chris stays quiet, not letting himself make eye contact with you. He knew he’d fold as soon as he looked at you. “Don’t lie,” you press the issue. You needed him to promise to never tell a soul, and burn it out of his memory in the process.

Your words make Chris’s eyes land on you, “they’re pierced,” he states simply. A familiar hot sensation creeps up to your cheeks once again making him notice almost immediately. He clears his throat, “no, I mean it’s hot. I didn’t know you had them,” redeeming himself quickly.

“Thanks, I got them last year,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest, and furrowing your eyebrows at him. Chris knowing such an intimate detail about you made you more nervous than usual. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing that he saw that picture, the gap between the two of you was way smaller than it normally was. Chris stares at you with a seductive smirk before looping his finger around the string of your pajama pants, sending goosebumps up your arms. He opens his mouth to speak, “can I see the-,” before rudely getting cut off by a sleepy Matt opening his bedroom door.

Chris jolts a few feet back, trying to act like he didn’t just try to make a move on you. Matt yawns, rubbing his eyes, “what are you guys doing out here?” It was clear he was oblivious, his sleepy state taking over him, making it impossible to comprehend what’s actually going on. Chris keeps his eyes locked on yours for a moment, “nothing, just getting y/n/n some blankets.” He finally breaks his intense gaze, looking over to his brother, “go back to sleep. We’ll be quiet. Promise,” before he locks his eyes on you again.

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 months ago

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In response to the Mile High Job post, I hate that Parker implies that poor flight attendant slept her way to a promotion/better shift. Her day is super weird but her cat is fine and her life is saved. That rumor, however, might stick and that didn't really feel like Leverage to me.

Agreed!

The thing with Leverage is that it's a show from the late 2000s; it feels contemporary, but actually it is a bit dated. And, like all shows, it had some problematic elements, which get a bit more Obviously Problematic as time goes by (I am just waiting for someone to write a lengthy call-out post in 5 years' time and for the Discourse to start.) For example, Tumblr loves to declare that Leverage has a "canon" throuple, but if anyone read that and then watched the show they would be profoundly disappointed - while it's a fantastic ship with a great many shippy instances, Elliot has a lot of onscreen No Homo moments, and frequently is shown sleeping with random women (I personally read him as aromantic). Similarly, there are two big relationships in that show: Nate/Sophie, and Parker/Hardison. And we all wax lyrical about the brilliance of Parker/Hardison and how healthy it is, and for good reason; but we gloss over how unbearably "I hate my wife/father I cannot click the book" Boomer humour Nate/Sophie is.

(He literally calls her a shrew in one episode. She throws a tantrum and sulks if he doesn't remember the exact details of how/where they met. She's stereotypically 'romantic' and he's stereotypically 'cynical' and she has to Save Him From Himself, and he self-deprecatingly says he should just know when to stop arguing because she's always right. Like... it is a grubby and uncomfortable dynamic; but, it's also aimed at a different segment of the audience that is older than me, and that's okay, actually. It just means I don't much care for the ship myself.)

Anyway, this is one other such instance. Clearly someone in the writers' room thought that was a funny joke, and not enough people disagreed, and so in it went. What's nice is that Sandi McCree, who plays the other flight attendant that stays on the plane, actually kind of saves that joke for me with her performance. When Parker first boards and declares that her co-worker is not coming in, McCree looks disgruntled at the sudden change to her staff list when she wasn't informed; she's annoyed at management. Then Parker makes the sleeping-with-pilots comment, and McCree looks disgusted and furious -

An expression she then pulls at Parker every time she sees her for the rest of the episode, even when Parker is technically not doing anything particularly weird. It's not necessarily intentional on McCree's part (Parker IS very weird in this episode, so it very much can be a response to that), but to me it means you can read it as "This woman is absolutely furious at the lateral sexism of this white girl because We Love And Support Each Other On This Plane." So, for me, between that and the aforementioned revelations of the day (the plane was brought down by the domestic terrorists of a Fortune 500 company, but saved by... a few unexplained Official People who snuck aboard??? And the other flight attendant was made to miss the plane after all under mysterious circumstances and was not promoted??? What???), I don't think Sandi McCree's character wouldn't put those pieces together.

#asks #leverage

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neil-gaiman · 2 years ago

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Hi, Neil! You've mentioned that Brian May was initially reluctant to give you permission to use Queen's music in the miniseries (because of competition with the Bohemian Rhapsody film, I think?) but I don't remember you ever telling us why he finally relented. Unless it involves a secret phrase not unlike why the sheep finally obeyed Babe the pig, how did you get him to change his mind?

He wouldn't let us use Queen when we did the BBC Radio 4 adaptation. He was concerned that people might think that Queen was being made fun of, or that Queen was being seen as something old-fashioned or something. For Good Omens the TV show I wrote him a letter, which said...

Dear Brian

Terry Pratchett and I had a private joke, back in the 80s, that any cassette in your car would eventually turn into Queen's Greatest Hits. We put the joke into our cowritten novel GOOD OMENS, and wove a certain amount of Queen magic through the book. Done because, pretty obviously, we love Queen. The book went on to sell enormous numbers over the years, and whenever two Good Omens fans got together, they would talk about Queen.

I know that when Dirk Maggs approached you when he did the Radio 4 adaptation of GOOD OMENS, you were wary about getting involved, due to concerns about, well cassettes, and the possibility of it positioning Queen in people's minds as something old fashioned or silly.

Which, I thought, when Dirk told me about it, was fair enough.

I've now spent the better part of the last four years writing scripts for, and shooting, a TV adaptation of GOOD OMENS. It stars Michael Sheen, David Tennant, Miranda Richardson, Adria Arjana, Michael McKean, Derek Jacobi, Jon Hamm, Nick Offerman, and lots of other amazing people, and it will be narrated by Frances McDormand. It is directed by Emmy-award-winning Douglas Mackinnon.

Douglas loves Queen. I love Queen. David Arnold loves Queen.

And the millions upon millions of Good Omens fans around the world love Queen too. So we have put various moments in there just for them (including a brass band playing "Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon"). We want Queen music to comment on the action.

The show will come out from Amazon, and then from the BBC, next year. This year we are in post-production.

We'd love to show you some of what we've got. We'd love to pick your brains and to get your take on what we're doing. To find out if there's a way we can include you, or just brief you on what we've planned so far.

And Brian cheerfully apologised for having said no before, and said yes.

(Queen didn't want us to use the song Bohemian Rhapsody initially, because of concerns about the movie, but after a while they were happy even with that.)

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badscienceman · 1 month ago

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I saw someone ask what "I hope this hurts" means beyond the obvious, and I started to respond only for it to turn into an essay... Because I don't feel like dumping something so long in some unsuspecting person's notifs, I'm just going to post it here instead.

I started writing this after playing the game, but ended up watching a playthrough because I couldn't remember exactly where "I hope this hurts" was repeated. I think I caught the only few times it was mentioned, but I wouldn't be surprised if I missed something, so feel free to correct me on that or anything else I might have gotten wrong.

Spoilers for the full game and CWs for everything you would expect from discussing Mouthwashing apply.

Edited 10/16/2024 for clarity and some minor issues with formatting. I added sections in hopes of making it more readable, as well as a few more screenshots that I hope will support my points better. *Indicates where I made potentially significant additions to my original analysis.

Part One: Jimmy

Jimmy is someone who has a delicate ego. This means that he's very concerned with how he's perceived by those around him. We see this in how he responds to Curly and the news of the company's closure, which he takes it as a personal attack in spite of it very clearly having nothing to do with him on a personal level.

For people like Jimmy, a threat to one's image (whether it's a matter of their perception of themselves or, maybe worse, the perception others have of them) brings intense emotional pain. Even though it's clear that Curly meant no personal offense, and likely saw more good in Jimmy than was actually there, Jimmy sees this as a great threat to his own image, and thus identity.

To be clear, it's not just that Jimmy thinks Curly is looking down on him. It's also that Jimmy needs his role in the company to maintain his image, and he needs to eventually become captain. This is his ultimate goal because the respect and control that someone like Curly has, in Jimmy's mind, is tied to the title he possesses. And Jimmy wants that. He wants respect, he wants to be listened to, he wants power over others. (This is also why Swansea's final speech is so important, in relation to the belief that if one just reaches this next goal, they might feel a little more human, a little more in control, a little more fulfilled, but as Swansea shows us, that's just not the case. And it's true for Jimmy, too. Jimmy isn't magically fulfilled by obtaining the title of captain.)

But in the beginning, Jimmy has yet to realize that just getting the role of captain won't magically make him a man who is respected, or even a man who is truly in control. He sees no opportunities for himself on earth. The only option is to stay in this company and become a little lord of his own ship... and suddenly that's ripped out from under him. He will never reach the goal he's been chasing for all of this time.

Anya telling him about her pregnancy is the final push he needs to go over the edge.

Part Two: Captain

Returning to the initial reveal that the company is shutting down for a second, I think it's important to keep in mind a few things:

1. The importance of the title of captain in Jimmy's mind.

2. How this extends to his perception of Curly, him being the current captain.

3. Jimmy's self-centeredness preventing him from understanding the feelings and perceptions of those around him.

When Curly says what he does, Jimmy immediately jumps to the conclusion that Curly sees himself as above everyone else (and most importantly, as above Jimmy), to the point of considering them "dirt." I don't think Jimmy is just projecting his greatest fear (being seen as lesser) onto Curly. I think he's projecting his own perceptions.

He's placed all of this importance on the title of captain, and thus Curly. The captain is above Jimmy. Jimmy is beneath him, is lesser. And we know how Jimmy treats those he sees as lesser (first Anya, and then the rest of the crew once he's captain, *manipulating Daisuke into putting his life at risk because Daisuke, who is just an intern after all, just isn't important to Jimmy being an example).

I think this is a fair reading because Jimmy does something similar with Swansea when he insists that Swansea is keeping the last cryostasis pod for himself. I understand some might say that this is just Jimmy's attempt to manipulate Daisuke and Jimmy doesn't actually believe it, which is a fair interpretation, but I sincerely think he believes what he's saying in this instance. And I think that because Jimmy sees selfishness as common sense. It's what he would do were he in Swansea's position, and what makes him giving the pod to Curly significant.

Part Three: Anya

So, Jimmy is already hurt and panicking. He sees his chance at power and thus fulfillment slipping away. And then Anya tells him that she's pregnant.

Anya, who he has shown time and time again that he thinks little of.

Anya, who he clearly sees as beneath him.

Any mention of the pregnancy, no matter how gently it was worded, would immediately feel like a threat to him on multiple levels. And not only that, but a threat from someone lesser than him. His image, his status, his control, his power—it's already slipping from his fingertips. *It's happening right then, in that moment. It's not just a potential future where he's held accountable in a real way (maybe if Anya involved authorities, or if Jimmy was legally responsible for supporting a child once they returned to earth). It's happening now, because his image is crumbling.

For this reason, I believe I hope this hurts to be directed at anyone and everyone that he sees as "threatening" him.

Anya and Curly have made him hurt. He wants to make them hurt.

He doesn't care about Daisuke and Swansea. If anything, he's so caught up in himself and this contorted vision of reality, I wouldn't be shocked if he convinced himself in the moment that they, too, were looking down on him for some reason. (See again, "I know what everyone is thinking. The way they look at me." Obviously this is said in the midst of his spiral, after the crash, but I wouldn't doubt the paranoia was there before that moment.)

He wants to make them hurt as they've hurt him. He may also want to make himself hurt in order to vent out his emotional pain. If not, death may simply be the easiest way to escape pain and the threat the future holds in his mind.

*Part Four: Without the Guilt

In addition to all of this, I think crashing the ship (making them hurt) is his vision of what Curly has done or is doing to him. This is how he "leave(s) the dirt behind."

To understand this, I'm going to include the birthday conversation and the conversation between Jimmy and Curly about crashing the ship.

Jimmy: ... So I guess you got what you wanted. Without the guilt. Curly: Jim... If I had known... Jimmy: I can go back to my, how'd you put it? "Struggle of a life?" Jimmy: Anya never got into medical school because she's... well, let's be real. Jimmy: And how many employment years Swansea got left in him? Jimmy: Daisuke will be fine, mommy and daddy have him covered. So there's that at least. Jimmy: But you. Headed for bigger and better, right? Curly: I'm just... I'm just working on my life being a place I don't have to fucking escape! That's what I was trying to tell you, nothing mor- Jimmy: We're the ones you're trying to escape! Leave the dirt behind now that your boots are clean! Curly: That's not what I meant. Jimmy: It is what you meant. Jimmy: You just couldn't frame it to yourself in a way that kept you as the hero. Jimmy: Abandon the crew but remain the model captain.

To me, this is one of the most important and revealing sections of the game. Jimmy is not only projecting onto Curly, he's telling us exactly what he's going to go on to do (or attempt to do) when he becomes captain.

In addition to this, we see his manipulation on full display as he twists Curly's words and won't allow him even a moment to truly speak beyond a few lines he manages to get in between Jimmy's ranting.

That's not to mention we see the beginning of yet another pattern in Jimmy's behavior: getting a person to admit their weakness, then using it against them and/or using it to hurt them (he does this with Daisuke, for example, when he hears Daisuke's fears/desire for approval and proceeds to use it to get Daisuke in the vent). Here, Curly speaks about feeling trapped. Jimmy will soon trap him in a crashed ship just as much as he traps him in his own body, which Jimmy will proceed to drug. But I'll return to that.

Curly: Jim. I can fix this. Jimmy: What do you think will happen when we get back? Hm? Curly: We can figure all of this out. You and me. Take care of it. Kills ninety nine percent. Jimmy: All I ever hear is how great of a leader you are. God, it's so annoying. Jimmy: But, now... What do you think will happen now when we get back? Curly: We'll fix this together. Jimmy: Everything you and I worked for in our lives. Accomplishments, changes. Jimmy: None of it will matter. Curly: You've gotten through difficult situations before. This time won't be any different. Work through it, one day at a time. Jimmy: It's not just me, is it? Jimmy: You were supposed to be the one who had everything under control. You said so yourself. Jimmy: The ship, this crew, everything that happened here... Jimmy: This was your responsibility, Captain. Jimmy: That is what you'll be hearing the rest of your life. Take responsibility. Jimmy: Or this can all be remembered as a tragedy. Jimmy: Despite what must have been the best efforts of its acclaimed captain. Jimmy: The Tulpar crew was never found. Jimmy: No one survived to tell the tale. Take responsibility. Jimmy: You're standing at the top. Jimmy: Feet in cement. Jimmy: I get it now. Right? Curly: ... Curly: ... Right.

This is an important moment, because aside from the scene in which Jimmy is approaching Curly while he's on fire, it's the only other time that I can recall the game separating from their perspectives to allow us to see them both, standing together.

We see a flash of Take care of it. Kills ninety nine percent. Jimmy begins to pull away. Another flash. He continues to draw back. Another. He turns towards the cockpit.

Jimmy sees through Curly. He sees Curly's worst where Curly sees only Jimmy's best, and he's more that willing to use that against Curly.

He sees a man who is not going to do what's hard. He sees a man who is going to try to "fix it" only in the most superficial sense. A man who confuses the appearance of cohesion and peace with the reality of it. Someone who sees the rocking of the boat as a manifestation of taking action against a wrong rather than the wrong itself.

In the end, it seems they're both ruled by appearances. And Jimmy will soon rip appearances in every sense from Curly's fingertips. He will make him hurt. He will get his revenge. He'll turn Curly into the villain, taking away his title, his respect, and his very face.

For daring to look down on him, Jimmy will turn Curly into dust.

But I think these words—I hope it hurts—come back to haunt him.

Part Five: The Eye as a Mirror

Like I said, I went back to try to find each time the phrase is used. There's the beginning, of course, but then there's the pregnancy sequence, for lack of a better name.

When the Polle monstrosity emerges from the giant uterus (?), we see these words:

In this sequence, we see a lot of different images and concepts connected: Anya's pregnancy and thus her sexual assault by Jimmy are tied to Polle and the company. The emergence of the Polle monster from the giant uterus (and the idea of the removal of the pregnancy) is tied to the mouthwash, as it's an act of "cleansing." This is all then tied to the phrase I hope this hurts.

Unless I missed something, these are the only two moments when the phrase is used: When Jimmy crashes the ship, and when he's experiencing this hallucination.

All clean! Really gets rid of that bad taste in your mouth, huh? Through wreckage! Through silence! Wash it away! All day fire fresh!

"Clean" is important immediately. "Leave the dirt behind you now that your boots are clean," Jimmy says. Because in this accusation is Jimmy's actual intentions himself. He wants to rise above others and clean himself from their filth. Now, he wants to clean himself of his sins.

I think "Really gets rid of that bad taste in your mouth" is mocking him. A direct challenge to the thought that he could ever truly be "cleaned," at least in the ways he's so desperately trying to go about it. *Not to mention how this connects to the mouthwash, as it might get that 99%, but there's always going to be 1% left.

"Through wreckage" obviously refers to the wrecking of the ship, but also of their lives. All by Jimmy. Though I wouldn't doubt in his mind it connects to the wreckage of consequences (ie. Anya's pregnancy resulting from Jimmy's actions).

"Through silence" I feel connects back to Jimmy's attempts to keep everything quiet, both literally and figuratively.

"Wash it away" also has a mocking edge, as if stressing the foolishness of Jimmy's attempts to treat these very serious events as if it's all just "dirt" he can wipe off.

Finally, we see "All day fire fresh!" This line stresses the connection to the mouthwash, of course. It also calls to mind the concept of cleansing by fire. Important considering Curly.

And after each, I hope it hurts. Jimmy's statement of pure, childish rage. His desperate desire to make others hurt as he hurts. To lash out, to get revenge. To have control until the very end.

This is also why Polle haunts him. Because he, as a man desperate for control, will always be under the thumb of the company even with that title of captain. That hurts him. And maybe the closest thing to ever recognizing the evil he's done to Anya is envisioning it as similar to the company's control, but even that feels like a mockery because he's so horrifically incapable of seeing her as a human being that she's been reduced to her womb. That's what he's really afraid of, in the end, and the fear feels like something else is in control. It makes the organ feel giant, larger than him, capable of hurting him.

When I was watching the playthrough, I thought that there was going to be four or five "I hope it hurts." I thought it would represent each person Jimmy hurts, or all of them, because he hurts himself too. When the sixth came, I thought so much for that theory. But then, I thought about it and there's the fetus. That makes six.

So, I hope this hurts means "I want to hurt you the way I've been hurt. The way you've hurt me." It's Jimmy saying that if his life has been wrecked, he'll wreck yours. It's Jimmy saying he'll shut you up. It's Jimmy saying he'll burn everything down if it means he can maintain control, or even just the illusion of it.

Part Six: Pain

But I think there's another side to this. Like some of the other lines I said feel are mocking him, I think I hope this hurts turns against Jimmy, especially here. And more than that, pain (and by extension, pain medication) plays a massive role in the game, after all. So I hope this hurts feels as if it haunts every moment where it's involved.

Jimmy says this the first time he gives Curly his pills. Pain is how we know we're still living.

The pills are clearly connected to death from the start. If "pain is how we know we're still living" then pain is connected to life and freedom from it is connected to death. That's saying nothing of Anya's use of the pills to kill herself. I think this connects back to the crash, as well. If life is pain, death is an escape from it.

I think it's also significant that the act of swallowing the pain pills is in and of itself painful.

The pills that are meant to take the pain away become a method of torturing Curly. It's a way to make him hurt, and to exert control over him. Even something that should take away his suffering is just an extension of it.

At one point, Jimmy says "Once these are out, we'll have nothing to keep him quiet." In this sense, the pain pills are meant to suppress, not to heal (Through silence!). They're supposed to shut Curly up and keep him from expressing his anguish in the only way he has left (the noises that disturb Jimmy's sleep).

Others have compared this, or Curly's state, to how Anya has been forced to bottle up her own suffering. Jimmy is keeping them both quiet, or at least attempting to. The ultimate form of keeping them quiet would be to, of course, kill them all.

The pills can also be seen as an attempt to hide or conceal the hurt that has been caused rather than to actually heal. In this way, they're like the mouthwash: something that's not really helping, just covering up an issue (and thus making it worse). And the mouthwash represents Jimmy's attempts to "fix" things. He doesn't actually want to make things right, because that would mean taking accountability. He wants to protect his own ego by "fixing" things in a mimicry of Curly "fixing" things in which he wants to create a sense of "rightness" without actually adressing what (or who) has been wronged. Jimmy can't stand to look at himself, because he would see that he really is constructed of his worst moments, or at least, that's what I suspect he would see.

Conclusion

Considering all of this, I hope this hurts can then become a mantra about living in spite of everything. I hope this hurts means "I hope I'm alive in the end. I hope we're all alive in the end." It could mean "I hope I'm allowed to hurt, because I am hurt, and the harm that's been done to me must be seen rather than suppressed and hidden." It could mean "You can't keep me quiet. You can't ignore or hide what you've done to me."

Maybe most of all, I think it means I hope you reap what you sow. When it's turned back on Jimmy, when it's almost mocking or haunting him, it becomes in part about his emotional weakness. About his inability to look at himself and his reality without experiencing the pain of humiliation. I don't think he ever experiences half of the pain he's inflicted on those around him. Still, he has to deal with the fact that his attempt to hurt others instead of facing himself has caused him more pain rather than taken it away as he'd hoped.

And I think that's why he suddenly decides to make Curly a "hero" instead of a "villain." There's a tipping point where he's pushed into a corner. The pain is too much. He hasn't confronted his own actions in any real way, but he's done enough that he can't stand to save himself anymore. It hurts too badly to live with what he's done. It sends him into another stage of fantasy/delusion. The only thing left to do is what he intended to from the start: kill himself to escape and damn Curly to a slow death. Because to go on living in spite of the pain would be the right thing to do, in a sense. To live in the hell of his own creation. To face what he's done. But instead, he'll entrust those heroics to Curly.

This feels barely coherent in the end, so I might come back in a few days and say wow what the fuck was I talking about? But hopefully there's something here that captures some truth. Again, please feel free to correct me if I'm misremembering anything or if I missed something.

#mouthwashing #spoilers #tw #cw #most of the fucked up mouthwashing shit is mentioned here #idk how ppl are handling tws because are some considered spoilers?#idk

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imaginesmai · 1 year ago

Text

Right around the corner - Azriel (5)

AHHHHH this is the final part and let me tell you I'm SAD. It was so hard to write the ending you all deserve after all this love, so I tried my best. Let me know what you think! Also, you deserve A LOT, so I made it long hehehe. Don't worry, a request about the RATH universe is coming soon! If you want one too, drop it in my inbox!

(1), (2), (3), (4)

Plot: The story of how Azriel fixed what was broken, and how you forgave him.

Warnings: this is sad, but has a happy ending! Also, mental health issues.

No one expected the sidra to froze that year, and against everyone expectation, one day Velaris had woken up to see the riven covered by a silver layer. Children had missed school to skate in the solid surface, parents watching carefully from the edge. Some couples were skating too, holding hands and giggling endlessly.

You had been watching the new scene unfold all morning. And while you usually loved snow and ice as much as any child in town, you were starting to get a little sick of all the noise.

It wasn’t your new employee situation, who had been staring at the river all morning. She had already finished her duties, but always the polite and nice girl, Elain Archeron was keeping you company.

When you spotted for the third time the familiar red-head through the glass and she didn’t say anything, just sighed, you decided you had enough.

“You should tell him to get in before he freezes to death” you commented, still busy with measuring the ingredients.

“Oh, no” Elain blushed and looked away from the window. “No. He’s just… He can wait”

“He can, but doesn’t have to. You and Lucien should head out, rent ice skates and have a fun day. You already finished here” you smiled kindly at her, and before she could reply, you added. “I’m fine, I don’t even like cold weather. And I still need to finish this, which you can’t help me with. So, go”

Elain stared at you with uncertainty, and you tried to look as convinced as possible. Would you have liked her to stay? After all, she was one of the few people you socialized with these days. She had turned in when you opened the bakery again, right after you posted the sign about looking for a new partner.

And even if you had had your doubts when you discovered she was Feyre’s sister and Azriel’s friend, you considered her your own friend.

So, yeah, you would have liked her to stay. Because you were still awfully sad all the time, and her company was one of the few things that made your day better. But you being sad didn’t excuse her missing a wonderful day with her mate.

“It’s not closing time yet” her eyes danced between the glass and you. “He was supposed to wait for me at the house”

“Guess he’s too eager to see you. He’s been dancing around the bakery for a good hour” you chuckled. “Elain, I mean it. Go. Have fun. I’ll see you on Monday”

“Y/N, I promise I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like it will unfreeze”

“And I promise I don’t mind at all. So, go, have fun and tell me about it on Monday” you gripped her hand softly over the counter, nodding to the waiting mal outside. “Come on, go”

Lucien was once more outside the bakery, the only visible part of him his red hair. He was covered in thick layers, but still managed to smile when Elain kissed your cheek and took her coat on the way out.

You didn’t have it in you to watch them be affectionate with each other, so you looked down at your task and decided it would be the last of the day.

It was hard watching all those couples walking hand in hand and remembering the feel of his warm, scarred hand in yours. To hear a man laughing and remember the unexpected laughs you dragged out of him sometimes. Even looking at the river was painful, because you could almost see the ghost of Azriel and you learning how to skate in a frozen lake in the Illyrian mountains a few years ago.

You had seen Azriel around a few times now, walking through your bakery and waving at you through the glass. Two times he had been waiting at the door when it was late at night, silently walking you home from afar without talking. Almost two months had passed by and your feelings were still as messed up as before.

Though you didn’t cry as much as before, and you were starting to get better, you still wondered.

If Azriel getting help would mean your relationship would be fixed, or if it was broken permanently. Deep in your thoughts, and used as you were to Azriel’s shadows, you didn’t notice how they tugged on your apron until the door sounded again.

Elain’s name didn’t leave your lips, because as soon as the door opened, you lost your breath. As if you had summoned him, Azriel walked through the door, beautiful as ever. He wasn’t in his usual training leather, but winter clothes that fit him as a glove. Instantly, you noticed he had lost weight. His shoulders were slumped and his body didn’t carry the usual grace of an Illyrian warrior.

“Hi”

His scarred hands, that had held you so many times and slaughtered so many enemies, were tucked in his coat’s pockets. You could feel the nervousness through the bond, the hesitance. Too stunned to answer, you only stared at him.

You had known that, eventually, he would talk to you. That you would have to do more than just wave at each other through the glass and stay silent when he sent you details through Elain. But still, you hadn’t expected it.

Unable to move, you only blinked.

“I saw Elain and Lucien heading out” he added, not looking away from you. “It’s a nice day outside”

Azriel hadn’t finished before one of his new shadows scaped his control, sneaking around the counter. The familiar ones, that had been by your side since he left, danced around the new intrusion. It lifted your apron, and crawled up your neck.

The cool feeling was the last of your worries, because no matter how much you willed yourself to say something, you couldn’t even tear your eyes from him.

The bond flickered between the two of you, once more. Knowing that it was one-sided, that he didn’t wear it like you did, made break your trance.

“She’s finished for the day” you explained, sounding way more confident that what you felt.

“It’s a nice day, yeah” he repeated, not giving you time to feel awkward before he continued “I thought that maybe you wanted to take a walk with me. It’s cold, but we could… get coffee. Or chocolate, if you want”

Azriel gave you a half, broken smile. Hearing his voice again made you take ten steps backward.

“I have things to do”

You looked down to your current task, which could be easily discarded. You had left much important things half-done because of him, and you would have done it normally without a second thoughts. But no matter how heartful the conversation at your door had been, you just knew you weren’t ready to have a conversation without getting angry.

You knew you weren’t ready to forgive him.

His new shadow gripped your wrist tightly before disappearing, and you heard Azriel’s doubt. He wanted to say something else, and you wanted too. Still, you fell back to your measuring and ignored the way your vision blurred, how your knees became weak again.

Maybe going back to your duties was the only way not to break down again.

The silence continued for a long minute. You couldn’t not feel his presence, the way his scent filled the bakery and made your stomach turn. Your heart recognized what you needed, what you wanted, and threatened to jump out of your chest.

Before you could regret your words, Azriel opened the door again.

“You’re forgetting the yeast” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When you looked up again, he only smiled. You opened your mouth to tell him to wait, maybe to fuck off and never come again. You didn’t have time, because Azriel closed the door behind him and he was gone.

The first tear fell against the unformed dough, followed by many more. You wouldn’t be finishing the blueberry cake that afternoon, you realized, as you crunched behind the counter and cried.

There was a storm coming, and everyone in Velaris had had the same idea – run to the market, buy everything they needed for a few days, and crowd themselves at home with their loved ones. You were trying to follow the first part of the plan, not having anyone to go home anymore. And if that wasn’t enough reason to drag you down, the crowd was getting intense.

Velaris’ market was a beautiful place, full of shops and nice vendors. But that day, the space felt too small.

You already had a few bags with you, yet there were a few more to go. Wanting to finish as soon as possible, you had ignored the rational part of your brain and had gotten in the middle of the crowd. You had only managed to buy milk and pasta, and still had a long way to go.

After Azriel’s brief appearance, your life had been messier than before. He had come by the bakery at least five times more, always offering you some kind of plan you rejected. Going to the park, for a flight or to a coffee shop. Taking walks, watching the sunset or training together.

You lived now half-prepared to see him walking through your door again, and not having the heart to tell him no. You weren’t sure if that thought frightened or comforted you.

In your haste, you had almost forgotten to buy provisions for the storm, and had found yourself on the worst day to do them. Crowded, loud and suffocating, that was how you would describe the market at that moment.

The fact that most people ran with their children and family wasn’t helpful at all.

Most of the times, it was Azriel who did the last-minute shopping for you. He knew you didn’t like crowds, loud places, that you did best in your bakery where only five people were allowed at a time.

Another shove broke you down from your daydreaming, and you looked back to see a pregnant woman staring with her eyebrows furrowed.

“The line is moving” she spatted, pointing to the small space ahead of you. “If you don’t move with it, you should step out”

“Oh, no” you chuckled softly. You picked up the bags on the ground and took the two small steps that you were supposed to. “Sorry, I just thought I could take a little bit more space. It’s crowded here”

“I don’t mind crowds, so if you want to step back, let me get first. I’m in a hurry”

“Me too” you gave her a polite smile, mindful of her state.

The short distance that separated you from the customer on the front was certainly not enough, and she knew it. Still, she looked at you with disapproval. There were only five more people to go until it was your turn, you could buy your snacks and run to the next stall.

You thought you could ignore the glare at the back of your neck, and you did for a few minutes. Without meaning to, you thought how everything with Azriel was easier. Not only people wouldn’t dare to talk to him like that, but also, he assured you a good meter of distance between you two and the rest of the world with his wings.

The snacks on your hands almost fell when, not even two seconds after the man took three steps forward, you were shoved again.

That time, when you looked back, the woman was accompanied by her mate. His wings covered her from the people behind them.

“You should really step out of the line” she repeated. “You might have all the time in the word, but we are in a hurry”

“Me too. You can’t expect me to be glued to that man” you tried to explain, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He just moved”

“And you didn’t, which proves my point. Besides, it’s obvious you only have a few things. We have more”

“Which should be enough reason to let me go first, not only because I was here before you” you shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable when the male huffed a laugh. “Maybe it’s you who shouldn’t have come here today if you can’t wait in a line”

You weren’t a threat for the woman, and you were trying really hard to be polite and prove your point. Besides, being pregnant wasn’t an easy task, and you could tell she was far along. Maybe you should have let her pass, or maybe told her to fuck off.

But before you could argue further, something clicked in the male’s eyes, wide with recognition.

And you would have preferred for him to go full berserk mode on you. Because you recognized that look, you had been receiving them for a while now.

The male elbowed the woman’s side softly, pointing with his chin towards you. You didn’t have time to turn back and avoid the conversation, because he spoke.

“You’re the shadowsinger’s mate” he announced, loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“Oh” the woman finally connected the dots and lunged forward to grab your arm so tight you couldn’t shake her off. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry” you pushed your arm back, trying to let go.

While the woman apologized, you couldn’t help but listen to the whispers. The same ones you had heard in your bakery and through the streets. Some of them thrown in your face by rude or nosy customers that didn’t understand the concept of privacy, others by bystanders.

At the end, it was the woman who said it out loud, confirming what everyone in the small circle that had formed at the cue was wondering about. She finally let go of your arm and crossed hers in front of her body.

The look of pity wasn’t as bad as the confirmation.

“He rejected you, right?” it wasn’t a question, not when you didn’t answer and she continued. “We heard you’ve been mated for almost a century and he doesn’t want the bond. Is that true?”

It wasn’t true, but you didn’t have the heart to correct her. Instead, you turned around and used your wing-less privileges to sneak through the crowd. You kept your head down, as if that could stop you from hearing the comments or feeling the stares.

People had come up with an alternative version where Azriel and you had been mated for decades, for centuries. Where you had cheated on him or he had changed you for someone else. You had even heard that he had bonded with another person and had kicked you out of the house, and that you had been the one rejecting the bond.

Each version was farthest from the truth than the last one, but they all hurt the same. The crowd didn’t seem to get thinner no matter how deep you got in the market. Once the people who had heard the conversation were left behind, new people crowded you, worried about the girl panicking and running through the middle of the market.

There were a few occasions where you thought you would fall, where you tripped and almost embarrassed yourself farther. You had almost made it to the back entrance of the market when you finally realized you were tripping no more. There was no longer a crowd around you, nor whispers or hands reaching your way.

It took you another few steps to fully stop and assess the situation. When you looked back to see where the crowd was, you were met with a broad chest inches away from you. Through tearful eyes, you recognized Azriel’s wings tucking you away from people, his mere presence pushing them away.

You met his hazel eyes, full of worry and regret. His hair was longer, covering his brow, but you found comfort in his crooked nose, in his freckles, that you knew so well.

You noticed in his hands your bags that had been left in the stall, a new one with the snacks you were about to buy.

“What – what are you doing here?” you choked out, too grateful for the sudden moment of peace to wonder about anything else.

“I felt you through the bond, a few hours ago. Anxious and…” he stopped himself, his eyes scanning every tear that marked your cheeks. “I was just getting here when it got worse. I heard most of it. I’m –”

“Don’t say you’re sorry” you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault”

Out of the many things that were indeed his fault, people not minding their own business wasn’t his. You were used to him blaming himself for everything, from wars in other courts to people fighting in the street. The response came naturally.

Your nose was cold and runny, your hands frozen in your pockets, and your feet hurt. Besides all of that, you felt all wrong. Because you enjoyed his presence, because what they said, and because you couldn’t help but calm down when he was close.

Azriel didn’t say anything when you took the bags from his hands, thanking him quietly. He didn’t say anything as more people walked away from him, either because of his wings or because they recognized him.

“You don’t like last minute shopping”

It was a pointless observation, but it was better than to comment on how afraid he had been when, just outside the market, he felt the bond snap with urgence. His shadows knew where you were, and that you needed him, but even he had trouble running through crowds. Azriel also couldn’t talk about how mad he had been at everyone in that stall, how his new shadows had turned off every light and almost chocked them to death.

Azriel wanted to say that you were probably cold because you didn’t like your own coats, and most of the times wore one of his. He wanted to hug you, too, to feel you between his arms after what felt like an eternity and promise you that it would end well.

But he couldn’t say anything more than the obvious.

“I had to” you answered.

With a furious fist, frustrated at life, at him and at you, you brushed the tears off your cheeks. You could tell that he wanted to keep talking, and you did too. Since your last encounter, you had come up with more conversations you should have.

You stared at each other for what seemed forever. There were details that you had almost forgotten in your sorrow – like his long lashes, that you teased him about. Or the freckle that snuck up to the corner of his left eye. The way his mouth rose higher from the right, and the small scar on his ear from where Cassian dared him to wear an earring.

Only his face was enchanting enough to help you forget about the day, about the weight of your chest. It was the first closing call from the market, that sounded through the public speakers, that broke you away.

“I should go”

You talked at the same time, and you smiled softly when you pointed to different directions. You didn’t miss how his eyes fell to your mouth, how his own lifted up too.

“I could walk you back” he offered, not tearing his eyes away from your mouth. “If you let me”

You didn’t answer immediately. Those last words, that he had repeated so often lately, almost had you saying yes. You could almost imagine how it would go – him walking by your side, one of his wings behind your back. His elbow brushing yours, and his gaze fixed on you.

Your smile dropped when you remembered the times you had walked just like that, tucked together. The times you had waked by yourself through Velaris with his imprint on you, and the times he had left without a trace of your presence.

Azriel knew the answer before you said it, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Sorry”

That time, you decided to turn away before he could. Taking the back exit was a poor choice, knowing it was farther from your house than the main one, but you couldn’t picture yourself walking through the market without Azriel keeping the crowds a step away.

So you turned around, gripped your bags tight and didn’t tear your eyes from the ground during the whole way back.

It wasn’t Azriel who found you the time everything changed, but you.

The cold and winter were over, the streets were clean and the sun was out. It was a perfect day to spend outside, and Elain seemed fixed in throwing you out of your own shop. She claimed that the bags under your eyes were as dark as the night, and that your skin was so pale that she couldn’t tell the flour stains apart from it.

“Just for the record, you’re kicking the owner of the bakery out of the bakery” you stated, looking at her once more from the door. “You do realize that shouldn’t happen, right?”

“I’m helping a friend come out of her ghost-like season” she replied, still decorating muffins. “And you do realize that most shops close on Sunday’s, right?”

“Certainly not a bakery” you looked to the empty fountain at her right. “If we do it together, we will – “

“If you touch one single item of this bakery, I’m banning you from the kitchen for a month”

You doubted she meant it, she could. But still, you sighed and turned around to open the door. You weren’t an extrovert, certainly not an outsider. Since you were a child, you liked your kitchen, your house, and your space. And none of those things were outside the door.

But you actually feared what the fae you left behind would do if you turned back. Elain had already hidden your apron so you couldn’t put it on, and had threatened to mismatch the soy milk with normal one.

Giving her a last, tight smile through the glass, you walked towards the center of Velaris.

Not many people were outside that soon on a Sunday morning, but you were glad for her insistence the moment the sun kissed your face. The cold weather was disappearing and you could feel warmth across your cheeks. It was still cold, and it would be for at least another week, but the change in the weather promised a happy spring.

You walked aimlessly around Velaris, stopping to watch the Sidra move every now and then. Your feet carried you through unfamiliar streets, all of them filled with colors and smells. The longer you walked, the healthier you felt. Each step felt like a weight lifted from your chest, and you even smiled to a few usuals you found in the streets.

The main square peeked through the streets. It wasn’t your usual destination, too crowded and not as pretty as other parts of the town. But you still walked through it, feeling at ease and happy.

It had happened before, usually the days before you started your cycle, and you should have known the feeling of ease had nothing to do with the weather or the walk. It had happened and it happened again, just as you rounded a corner to walk in the square.

If, by any chance, Azriel hadn’t noticed you coming, the shadows that tugged him away from where he was standing would have made it obvious.

His eyes widened when he saw you, and you felt that peaceful feeling making its home for the day. There was no sorrow, no sadness, and none of the usual feelings that lately you felt when it came to him.

You cursed yourself stupid when you realized that you cycle was coming, and that every year you were in a mood until Azriel showed up, your hormones demanding your mate.

“Y/N”

Your name fell from your mouth and just by hearing it you noticed something different. It was new, and at the same time, you thought you recognized it somehow. You looked to his empty hands, to the syphons on his shoulders and chest and truth-teller on his side.

It looked like you had interrupted something important to him. But instead of running away from him like the last two times, you took a step closer.

“Are you going on a mission?” you pointed with your chin to his leather, eyes stopping at his chest. There was that thing, that you couldn’t name.

“Just came back. I was…”

Azriel looked to the building he just exited and for a moment, in silence. You had met a bunch of times since the incident in the market, and you had started having longer conversations. About the weather, about your bakery, and even about his family, who you finally knew officially.

Certainly, your relationship had improved, although it wasn’t just fixed yet. When he didn’t answer, you were reminded of all the times he had kept things to himself, either out of fear or doubt.

He seemed to doubt between telling you and keeping it to himself. Any other time, you knew, he would have kept it to himself. He had done it, in the past – when you asked him about his job, or tried to understand his past. Many times where he had evaded the truth or his emotions.

Your mood, that had been in a rush since you left the bakery, fell a little at his silence. He looked torn and you were ready to leave, before he answered.

“This is Madja’s house. I meet her here so we can talk, usually during the week” he looked back at you, watching the surprise of his statement. “But something happened and I needed to talk to her”

“What happened?”

Azriel’s lips were pressed tight, debating on whether he should tell you or not. He wouldn’t have doubted about it a year ago – he wouldn’t tell you, because in his eyes, it would only hurt you more than he already had. But he had learnt new things, and had realized that a relationship was built on trust. And that his fears, his perception of the reality, had broken yours.

He had cut the mission short when he had noticed, though he wasn’t sure he had ever done something like that. Azriel didn’t know what had triggered it, why it happened in the Winter court and not anytime sooner.

Madja, of course, had had an answer ready – an answer that had left him staring at her door for long twenty minutes before you appeared.

“Kallias should have sent something to Rhysand, but he didn’t” he started, not sure why he was traveling so far from the event. “So I went to check. Turns out someone must have taken it and, well, I tried to…”

He trailed off before he could finish, aware of your confusion. You never talked about what he did for Rhysand, in any court. No matter how big or small was the assignment, he didn’t tell you about it.

But that wasn’t what your confusion was about, at least not all of it. You couldn’t possibly notice because you had given it for granted since the beginning, but Azriel did notice. He noticed the change as soon as it happened, and babbled when he explained to Rhysand what he should have been feeling for years.

Had explained to Madja moments ago, who had given him a knowing smile and a proud nod.

“I accepted the bond” he confessed, continuing before you could say anything else. “I don’t know how, or why, but I was there and suddenly I was hit with – with this in my chest, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t happen sooner”

“You accepted the bond” you repeated, looking between his chest and face.

“I don’t know how, or why now. I was, thinking… And it hit me” Azriel smiled sadly, not saying what his thoughts were about – what they had been about since that night. “I didn’t want to tell you, because, this is, you don’t have to do anything now. Me accepting the bond doesn’t change what I did”

Azriel hadn’t meant to tell you, neither to be so vague and ridiculously nervous about it.

It had been a surprise when, in the middle of a conversation, he felt it. He had been thinking about you, because there were flowers and they were pretty against the cold weather, and to him, you were the prettiest thing the Cauldron had made. One moment Kallias had been going through the last movements of the package and the next the high lord was looking at him with raised brows.

Congratulating him for something that should have happened six years ago.

“It’s not that I didn’t want the bond before, Y/N” he continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise you, I didn’t know how to accept it. I didn’t know that I deserved it”

Azriel had thought, and he still wanted to, that you so pretty that you were meant for someone else. That it was borrowed time, that he didn’t deserve the bond just as he didn’t deserve you. With Madja and Rhys, they had had deep conversations about his mental health, about his version of life where he lived through a glass of pain and rejection.

As he stared at your surprised form, he tried not to let hope leak into his heart. He knew it didn’t fix what was broken, but he hoped it was the first step of a long recovery to win you back.

Only if you could confirm or deny, instead of stare at him.

“Say something” Azriel finally broke, almost begged. “Whatever you want. Just say something”

And you wanted to, because wasn’t that what you had wanted? You had fooled yourself lately thinking about may what ifs. What if he had accepted the bond in the bagging, what if he had told you that he wasn’t fine, that he was broken and needed help.

What if you had helped him and not rushed things when he wasn’t ready. Now, it felt like the Cauldron was giving you that opportunity, only that you didn’t know how to react.

You finally looked away from him and decided to give an experimental tug on the bond, to see if anything had changed.

It had.

“Az”

It was a chuckle, maybe the beginning of a cry. It was anger but also relief because what came back from that tug wasn’t what you usually felt. It was stronger, solid, as if there was a physical string between your bodies that kept you linked.

Usually, it was just an intense feeling that was enough for you. But now that you felt him tugging back, felt him loving you, you couldn’t hold back another laugh. He shoved down through it everything he felt – adoration, love, joy. Many fears that had you stumbling towards him, and pain.

So much pain that your smile dropped. His dropped too, and you felt the bond getting fainter.

“That’s another reason. I didn’t want you to feel… that” Azriel retreated the bond farther. “I have so many fears and pains here that I couldn’t even imagine sharing them with you. And that – “

“You don’t have to feel ashamed” you cut him off, your voice hoarse. “I love you the same”

Words were unnecessary when you hugged his middle and buried yourself in his chest. He curled around you, like he had done so many times.

The channel snapped open again, and you just closed your eyes tightly. It was an endless source of emotions, and it broke you that most of them were bad. There was rejection, from so many people that it felt like an angry, black bull coming your way. Sadness that felt overwhelming and never ending, always coming in waves when Azriel didn’t expect it.

You also felt disgust, and you only held him tighter when you discovered it was self-disgust. Not only at the things that he had done, but also at what had been done to him. The scars on his hands, the shadows around him. He had hated himself for so long he had forgotten how to love.

But then, at the bottom, there was something bright, and that part you realized it was only dedicated to you. There was his family too, but it wasn’t as intense as his love for you. Everything that he lacked during his life, that he yearned for, was tucked where it mattered the most.

“I love you” he whispered against your head, softly. “I love you”

You didn’t answer, just raised your head until you could brush your lips against him. Later, you would have time to blame the cycle, which you wouldn’t get for another two months, or the emotions of the moment. But you knew it was just what you needed, what you both deserved, when you felt him kissing back.

At the beginning, it was just his lips against yours, and it was enough. Your noses brushed each other, you got on your tiptoes and his wing cocooned both of you. His hands only pressed you tighter against his body when you moved your lips against his, brushing the edge of your tongue against his bottom one.

Azriel could barely keep himself straight when you silently asked for permission to open his mouth, which he happily obliged.

From that moment, it was crashing. The kiss was only a physical proof of your feelings traveling through the mated bond, so wild and intense you couldn’t tell which one was his or yours.

“I’m sorry, darling” he whispered against your lips, giving you no time to reply. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for being a coward. I’m sorry”

“I forgive you. We don’t keep secrets anymore” you managed to say between kisses.

“Never” Azriel answered while leaving kisses on your cheeks and nose.”

“And we’ll talk about our emotions, and feelings. You’ll tell me about your life when I ask”

“Always”

“You won’t close off to me” you pulled his head away and made him look at you.

While you held his face between your hands, Azriel smiled. It was a different smile from the previous ones, from the ones you had seen so far. It was carefree, loving, and yours.

Your thumb brushed the corner of his eye, his upper cheek, the border of his nose.

“I’m here, Azriel. Always. So you don’t have to hide anything from me, or to be ashamed or afraid. I’m here” you closed the distance once more, controlling the kiss by holding onto his face. “Right around the corner”

“Right around the corner” he repeated, dipping his head and sealing all his promises with another kiss.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Right around the corner taglist:

@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @wallacewillow0773638 @clara-geekhime @kalulakunundrum @saltedcoffeescotch @originalcrusadetrash @mel-wcst @ailyr92 @bubybubsters @chickensrock3 @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @wallacewillow0773638 @just-m-2 @theravenphoenix26 @glitterypirateduck @a-frog-with-a-laptop @justdreamstars

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polarisjisung · 3 months ago

Text

LOVE ON THE COURT | 12 BIRTHDAY PARTY

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, friendship jealousy?, a very brief mention of some guy hitting on y/n + spiking of drinks but I didn't want to go into too much detail so it's not a very in depth description or anything

NOTES | I so badly wanted to write this chapter better but it just hasn't been working for me, I think I've reached my wits end with this chapter and this is the best I could do which honestly I'm really disappointed with it, but I want to get back to regular posting and I don't think I can rewrite this chapter again after going in circles with it for the past week so I'm sorry if it's not v good

Jaemin's happy, spending his birthday night with the people he cares for most, having a good time. It helps him forget, the struggles the worries, the events of the past week. He forgets it all. And even if just for a moment, jaemin feels free, like nothing could stop him.

It's not a feeling that lasts long, and as the sound of sweet laughter echoes in his ears, despite the blaring music, jaemin reminds himself that he doesn't have the right to feel so happy after what he'd done. Or at least he thinks so.

Y/n's laugh is quiet but he hears every part of it intricately, his head shooting over to the left where she's a few drinks deep into a conversation with Mark and Haechan. His heart thumps in his chest. Jaemin follows Chenle and Renjun's eager eyes, watching the way they navigate through the crowd to join the conversation. His palms are sweaty, clammy even, and the bile almost rises to his throat, resting in that uncomfortable position that made him shift his weight from one foot to the other. The events of the other day seem to play in his head, on loop, on repeat, at every sight of the girl. The bitter feeling causes his hands to shake, almost eating hik alive. How could he have done that?

A lump in his throat, jaemin can't help but remember the days, those days where he knew everything there was to know about the girl across the room. The days where y/n was deeply integrated into the mix of the 6 other rowdy, loud and messy but sweet boys he called his best friends. Those days that were long gone. Relationships that could never be restored taken with it. Those days when nights like these, like today, would be nothing but a distant nightmare.

Y/n was dressed to the nines in a pretty red dress that she'd never have worn before, with features so different, a sign of the time that had passed, Jaemin swore he barely knew the girl he saw in front of him.

But for a flash of a second Jaemin does see someone he recognises. He sees y/n. His y/n.

The y/n with slightly shorter hair, softer features, happier eyes and a brighter smile. The carefree y/n, the y/n who fit to a T the memories he stored in his mind. The y/n who would never have done what she had to him.

He had given his best shot to forgetting those exact memories but they were vivid recollections that would never escape his mind no matter how hard he tried. Today for the first time in 3 years Jaemin had let himself look back fondly on what they had once been. He wondered where it all went wrong, what he had done wrong back then for it to end like this.

Jaemin sighs, pulling his hand back from the open bar and taking just a few steps back to observe. Haechan seems to have cracked a joke. From afar it seems like one of those things that gets funnier as each person adds, and soon he notices the four of his friends doubled over in laughter, grasping each other for support and laughing to their hearts content. Something about that site in front of him makes it feel as though time hadn't changed a thing, their bond still as unbreakable and robust as before, a bond that ran beyond verbal description and light sentiment, it was a deep rooted bonding of their souls.

He felt jealous.

Jaemin, for as long as he let his eyes play the scene in front of him, felt sickeningly jealous.

He wanted nothing more than to have his friendship with her to be untouched, the bond he had with his best friend, that had been stronger than any other, he wanted it back as though nothing had hapenned and nothing had gone wrong in the first place.

His stomach churns with nausea, and jaemin subconsciously steps further away from the makeshift bar, watching Y/n closely.

Her mannerisms had changed, no longer that same rough reflection of his own habits, but a distinct and sharp contrast. There's no scrunch of her nose or reeling back when she tips back a shot, no hesitance to get herself another drink without tugging someone along with her

No sign of the girl he once knew inside out, other than a few vaguely familiar facial features.

Jaemin's too occupied in his thoughts to notice how his friends now begin to pile into the other room, setting up for beer pong, hell jaemin barely notices when Jeno invites him over to play, with a pat on his back and a smile on his face.

His eyes instead find themselves glued to the captain across the room. Where she was stood at least, because once Jaemin shakes himself from his thoughts and his blank stare grows fuller, he realises that y/n isn't anywhere to be seen.

He knows for a fact that she wasn't in the other room, crowding around the table and cheering for whoever she decided she'd be supporting. Instead, his eyes shoot over to the kitchen, and his legs follow. A concerned Isa scurrying out of the kitchen, only giving him reason to trust his gut.

The sound of slurred conversation fills his ears and suddenly he finds himself walking a little quicker. Intuition was always his strong suit and the churning in the pit of his stomach made him gulp.

"I'm really not interested" he hears y/n's voice, slightly muffled as he enters the kitchen, stood in the doorway to see some guy, he's not really sure who, stood towering in front of her

"oh come on, I make the best drinks" he says, holding out a red solo cup in front of her.

Y/n rolls her eyes. Nobody presses for a drink that much unless they're up to something. She knows that despite being a few too many shots into the night. And she certainly knows better than to accept a drink off a stranger.

In moments like this, she assumes violence isn't the answer — she knew she lacked the coordination to even walk in a straight line right now. So she gladly accepts the drink, taking it in her hands and swirling it about in the cup. Although the urge to splash it in his face was strong, Y/n knew getting out of the situation wasn't that simple. But she didn't exactly have many ideas now either.

"So what's in this mystery drink of yours?" she asks with a sickeningly sweet tone, trying to buy herself time. There was no way she was drinking this, especially not considering this guy had been hitting on her for the past 5 minutes

Her eyes dart across the room, searching for any sign of a way out of the situation, her eyes finally landing on the doorway. Y/n had never felt so relieved at the sight of Jaemin, certainly not in recent times.

It took less than a second before he was already taking a stride towards her

"Hey y/n" he smiles, walking over and placing his arm over her shoulder. Jaemin feels her body tense under his hold, his faux smile almost dropping at the realisation.

But he has no time to take offence, grabbing the cup from her hands "I could use a drink." he says despite the fact that right now, even the mention of alcohol had his stomach churning. Paired with the blaring music and the crowd of people, the nausea was overpowering.

But the second his eyes land on her, he feels a sense of ease, just like the old times. And for the second time that night jaemin can't help but think where it had all gone wrong, where they had gone wrong.

He wants to stand and ponder whether this grudge he'd been holding against her for years was really worth the loss of the most treasured relationship he knew. But the amused stare of the creep opposite him gives jaemin no room to think, in fact he barely has the room to breathe with how close he is.

That sick smirk on his face, jaemin wants nothing more than to knock his jaw in and his teeth out. If it weren't for y/n beside him, jaemin probably would.

But the brunette only gets a quick glare from jaemin before he guides Y/n out of the kitchen with him. His arm only falling back down to his side when they were in the hallway.

"Thanks" she mutters out, and it's clear to jaemin that she's far from sober, even clearer when she takes a shaky step forwards.

"Woah" it's instinctive the way he reaches for her arm, steadying her in his hold. "Let me help you"

But she pulls her arm back.

"You really don't need to be nice to me because of what hapenned the other day" she sighs, leaning against the wall behind her. "I'm over it, honestly" she says, her hands held up either side of her head. But her eyes remain latched ontot he floor.

"That's not why I'm‐" his words are cut off again, this time by his own thoughts. His muscles tensed and jaemin had no idea why, but her words didn't seem to sit right with him.

"Look I appreciate it" she pauses, "but it feels awkward, you're not supposed to help me, it's just not what you do" she says, shrugging

The feeling inside him grows as each word passes her lips. His throat tightening.

Jaemin feels a sudden sense of urgency overcome him, the need to defend himself profound.

"Come on peach, I wouldn't let some creep get away with that no matter what, especially not with you"

His voice comes as a soft whisper, rushed, but gentle.

Jaemin for the first time had spoken before he could think, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, barely able to process his own words. He wants to say more, but he can't, like his tongue is tied as he waits for a response.

He searches for any sign of belief in her face, any sign of trust, anything he could work with, he'd take.

"I'm sorry" he musters up the courage to say, though he's not sure what it is he apologises for. All he hopes is that he'll see something, anything.

But the blank expression that laid across her features was far from what he was looking for.

Her lips lay flat in a straight line, her eyes latched onto the floor, expression stoic. He wanted her to scream, shout, kick, do anything. Jaemin as ever before, just wanted to get a reaction out of the girl, the slip of the once endearing nickname from his lips no mistake.

"Say something" he bends down ever so slightly, now eye level with her slouched figure "please" his speech is breathy, desperate almost. He doesn't care.

For the first time, jaemin knows what he wants. And though he's too scared to say it, jaemin finally admits to himself just how much y/n means to him. It seems a lot easier to do when she's by his side, like all things had when she was around. And the question arises once again, where had everything gone wrong? and perhaps more importantly, why had he let go of everything so easily?

The thoughts cloud his mind again, his eyes trained on the girl opposite him, her lips between her teeth.

Y/n felt silly, that stupid nickname causing tears to well up in her eyes, that nickname that she had never known to mean so much. Peach. She used to love when he called her that, now she wasn't so sure.

She holds his eyes in her own for a moment, not breaking the silence until a shaky breath falls from her lips.

"I should go" and her eyes return to the floor "Happy birthday jaemin."

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#jaemin #nct jaemin #nct jaemin smau #nct smau #nct dream smau #jaemin social media au #nct social au #nct social media au #nct dream social au #nct dream social media au

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kaisacobra · 10 months ago

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Let You Go - Tara Carpenter

Summary: It's been a while since Tara has seen you. She misses you, but maybe she's broken your relationship to a point beyond repair.

Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of death, angst

Word Count: 7.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the ride guys! Here we have part 3 of second best, which (kind of) ends this trilogy. Of course, I'm still writing the alternate ending so stay tuned if you're interested!

third part of Second Best

It was two in the afternoon when Tara began rummaging through that box she kept at the back of her closet, sorting the contents into "burn" and "don't burn," all in line with what her therapist had advised. She needed to overcome the past, even if in small steps, and what better way to start than by burning traces of when everything started going wrong?

She looked into the box, examining the contents that would survive the purge. To no one's surprise, most of the photos contained you.

Tara reached for a specific photo among the others. A polaroid depicting a hug between the two of you, both with radiant smiles and faces so close that your cheeks touched. Mindy had taken this photo just before you both visited an amusement park that had been in town for a while. Tara's heart throbbed painfully. She missed you. A lot.

The girl sat on the bed with slumped shoulders, clutching the polaroid as if it were a precious possession. She couldn't take her eyes off the image of the two of you, with a happiness and innocence that would soon be ruined by her own actions. With a tired sigh, Tara closed her eyes, remembering her therapist's words.

The initial sessions were slow and unproductive, mainly because Tara kept her guard up and refused to talk much about her life to a stranger. Over time, the man became a pleasant presence, and Tara began to see him as some sort of a grandfather figure trying to advise his granddaughter. That's when she started sharing her problems and actively sought solutions.

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" she remembered asking, looking at her hands with shame. The bright white light in the room made the sweat on her palms stand out on her tan skin.

"Tara..." The man sighed, taking off his glasses as if he was preparing for a battle. "Don't you think you should worry about forgiving yourself first?"

The girl frowned and looked at him as if he were crazy. If anything, she was guilty of not only ruining her own life but also becoming a problem in everyone else's. She had no right to see herself as a victim. "What do you mean?"

"From what you've told me, I've realized you harbor a lot of resentment towards yourself on the inside." He pointed to Tara's chest, and she noticed no hint of judgment in his expression. Still, she felt strangely exposed. "Have you ever really reflected on this internal conflict you feel? About feeling guilty for things beyond your control?"

Tara scoffed and leaned back until her shoulders rested against the chair again, crossing her arms and staring at the walls like a stubborn child avoiding conflicts. "Beyond my control? I was awful to the best person in my life! I let a murderer into our life for-"

"See? You're doing it again." He smiled with a patience that bordered on irritating for the girl, crossing his hands on the glass table that separated them. "I'm not saying you're not at fault for being rude to your friend, but I'd like to focus on your past. That girl's attacks, parental abandonment... You're not to blame for that, Tara, but it doesn't stop you from carrying the pain anyways. Don't you think it affects you?"

She remained silent, but now her head was bowed in embarrassment. Her arms, once crossed, now enveloped her elbows in a half-hug, as if that would protect her from something. Without more exchanging words, the therapist followed the cue and continued speaking in a gentle tone, as if trying to educate a wounded animal.

"Tara, have you ever talked about your concerns with anyone, or have you just kept all these grievances inside until they exploded? Have you ever had any healthy coping mechanism?"

I don't deserve one. That's what she wanted to say, but didn't, because she knew it would make the situation even worse.

"Do you think I don't recognize the signs? Troubled young adult refuses help out of fear of abandonment and ends up driving everyone away, taking the opportunity to take out your emotional wounds on others? You won't be the first or the last person I've seen with this pattern." He spoke as if he could read her thoughts, leaving the girl a little scared.

Sitting up straighter in the chair, Tara turned her gaze back to the therapist, momentarily becoming interested in the conversation again. "Okay, what do I do to end this? What do I do to not be like this anymore?"

Broken, she wanted to say.

The man smiled gently and pulled open a drawer in the wooden cabinet to his left. Tara watched impatiently as he took out a black notebook and placed it on the table between them, looking between her and the object with a certain expectation. "I thought you could start documenting your feelings on paper, instead of keeping them locked within you. I think it can help you in the long run."

"Do you think writing in a journal will make me less of an ass and make y/n forgive me?" Tara replied with a sarcastic tone.

"I think it can influence a change in behavior, yes." The therapist reaffirmed, deliberately ignoring the girl's foul language. "And this exercise is not about y/n; it's about you. How do you expect her to forgive you if you can't do it for yourself?"

As stubborn as Tara was, the words had truly left an impression on her. That's why, on top of her messy desk, was the damn black notebook. The calluses on her hand throbbed with the memory of the force with which she wrote each new entry, trying to release her negative feelings onto paper.

She knew that your name was probably the most repeated word on all the pages, like a sacred mantra that she had to honor. Tara couldn't escape the fact that many of her emotions were so directly intertwined with the idea of you, and honestly, she accepted having to carry that burden as her own Sisyphean stone. She deserved it, after all.

Looking again at the polaroid, she sighed and slowly ran her thumb over the smiling image of your face, almost wishing she could offer you the same affection in person.

She was going to change. She had to change. For you.

"That was pretty good!"

The floodlights on the university’s sports field lit up as it began to get dark, allowing the young athletes to continue their training even at night. There weren't many people around, but you could see that the track team seemed to be gearing up to practice for the 100 meters a little to your left.

"Kate, I hit the white part." You grumbled in response to your friend's encouraging words. Kate Bishop had convinced you to attend one of her archery practices to "see her talents firsthand," and at some point, she thought just watching wouldn't be enough, and that you had to experience the sport for yourself.

That's why you were now on the archery training field with her, holding a semi-professional bow that was much heavier than you expected, proving over and over again that you were definitely not a natural at this.

It didn't seem to discourage Kate, however, as the girl still smiled with enthusiasm while looking at your target with a single arrow stuck in it. "At least you hit the target! You're improving; it could be worse."

"True! You could have hit someone's foot, like Miss Bishop did once." One of Kate's teammates, Yelena, commented with a laugh. The two, along with Maya Lopez, made up the Blackmore University women's archery team and were surprisingly good at it, having won all the recent competitions.

You laughed along with the other two while Kate gradually turned redder and assumed a betrayed expression. "Hey!" She protested.

It was amazing how people you had known for such a short time could make you feel so good. You couldn't even remember the last time you had laughed so freely since the incident with Tara happened, and that was already a significant victory for you. It's not like being with Mindy, Chad, Anika, and the others didn't make you happy, but it was hard to enjoy the moments with them when you remembered that, in any other situation, Tara would be there with you too.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you leaned the tip of the bow on your foot, letting its weight rest on your shoulder so you could reach the device with your hands. Through the lockscreen, you could see a message notification from Mindy, as if she had read your thoughts.

Best Twin: Movie night at the Carpenters' house, are you coming?

Best Twin: Sam misses you

Best Twin: We all do

You sighed deeply and looked at the notification with a grimace, not sure exactly what to do. Of course, you would love to spend time with your friends, and you definitely felt guilty for avoiding Sam by extension, even though she understood the reason. But your palms started to sweat just at the thought of sharing a small space with Tara again.

Mindy had already told you that Tara had started therapy after the encounter you had in some of the university’s corridors some time ago, but she had also said that it was entirely valid if you still didn't feel ready to see Tara after everything.

It was a strange feeling, as if two forces were fighting for dominance within you when it came to Tara. On one hand, just thinking about her made your chest ache. A wave of anger, sadness, and pure humiliation invaded you, and your eyes threatened to well up. What she did to you, what she said to you, marked you like a painful burn that might never stop pulsating.

But on the other hand, you wondered if there were still traces of that other Tara who loved and treated you well. The Tara who made you soup when you were sick and promised never to leave you. Maybe it was your foolishness, but you didn't want to believe that that part of her had simply gone away forever.

"Are you okay?" A soft voice reached your ears and quickly snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to loosen the tight grip with which you had involuntarily held the phone. Looking up, you came face to face with Kate's kind blue eyes, patiently waiting for your response.

Kate Bishop had been an angel in your life, fitting in perfectly at the moment you needed her most. You had met her in the waiting room of the counseling center after spending a week living like a zombie following everything that happened with Tara, and you could barely comprehend that you were sharing the same space with someone like her.

At first glance, Kate Bishop didn't seem like someone who needed to be in a counseling center. She carried herself with confidence, always with impeccable posture and a calm expression on a model-like face. Always dressed in neat clothes that you were sure were designer and carrying a sports bag indicating her athletic background.

But when she approached you and started a conversation, saying she needed to talk to someone or she'd explode with anxiety before her first appointment, you began to realize that Kate might not be what you expected. She was, in fact, much kinder and more attentive than you could have predicted.

You talked a lot that day, and the next day, and the day after, until there came a point where you got along well enough to consider her a friend. Kate listened to everything about your issues with Tara and provided advice and emotional support. In return, you listened to her vent about her problems with a father who died in childhood, a mother imprisoned for fraud, and an inherited company she didn't want to have to run at that age.

They were quite different dilemmas, just as you were quite different people, but still, you felt at ease in her presence, and it was good to have someone who truly noticed you for once in your life.

"Hm? Okay. It's fine, yes, I just..." You searched for words but gave up, opting to speak the truth about what was bothering you. "Mindy invited me to watch movies with the others, and it's at Tara's house, and I didn't want to have to refuse, but I don't know if I'm ready for-"

Kate widened her eyes and raised her hands as if asking for a pause, interrupting your rapid and anxious flow of words. "Woah, hold on, champ. You don't have to go if you don't feel okay. They'll understand."

"Yeah, I know, it's just that..." You sighed, looking down at your feet planted in the field's grass. "I miss them, but... I can't."

As much as it hurt and was embarrassing to admit, you knew it still wasn't the right time. Not when you sometimes still woke up crying in the middle of the night with nightmares involving her.

"Then how about this?" Kate began to suggest, getting closer to you and gently shaking your shoulders. Physical touches had always been her way of offering comfort. "There's a party at my place tonight with some of my childhood friends, and I'm officially inviting you. You can tell your friend that you'll be busy spending time with a very beautiful, charming, and talented company."

You smiled as you let yourself be shaken by the cheerful girl in front of you. "A very humble company, apparently." You teased, poking her ribs playfully. "I don't want to disturb you, but thanks for the invite."

"Disturb? I'd be the one disturbing your illustrious evening by forcing you to hang out with my friends! Believe me, it's torture listening to Peter for 2 hours when he gets excited about his nerd stuff." Kate tried again, and by the way she looked at you with the expression of a begging puppy, you knew there would be no escape. "Please? It'll be nice to have you there."

There were two available possibilities. In the first, you could go back to your dorm, watch a bad movie alone, and spend the rest of the night thinking about how your friends would be having fun, specifically wondering if she would be having fun. In the second, you could take another step in getting rid of your codependent friendship (if it still existed) and enjoy the night with new people and a person who was becoming more and more important to you every day.

If Tara didn't want to be stuck in the past, you also had the right to do that. You deserved it too.

So, you accepted and only remembered to inform Mindy when you were already in the passenger seat of Kate's black Audi RS7.

Tara was distraught. Actually, saying that she was distraught was an understatement.

Last night had already started off as garbage from the moment Mindy announced that you wouldn't be coming to see them at the apartment. Sure, she should have expected it, but that didn't mean she didn't have any hope. She couldn't stop thinking about what you might be doing, the reasons why you hadn't come, how everything would have been better if you had.

But mostly, she felt relieved that you hadn't been there, because that meant she hadn't put you in danger again with another ghostface attack. It was a selfish thought. Quinn, her roommate, had died in front of her, Anika had her belly almost cut from end to end and was now in surgery, and all Tara could think about was finding you to see with her own eyes that you were okay.

She urgently searched for your face in the midst of the crowd of students walking through the Blackmore University campus, seeking the slightest fragment of your presence anywhere. She cursed herself again for not being able to just call you like she would if she hadn't messed up and made you block her in practically every possible place.

Finding you and making sure you were okay, in addition to delivering the terrible news, was her obligation. Mindy and Sam were with Anika at the hospital, and Chad had gone to check Ethan's alibi in the damn economics class. She needed to find you.

Fortunately, her prayers seemed to be answered by whatever entity it was. She saw you in the distance, radiant as she hadn't seen you in a long time. Tara's heart skipped a beat, and she opened her own smile after yours. It was bittersweet, the feeling of seeing you so happy but knowing that this happiness would be ruined the moment you laid eyes on her.

In a moment of distraction, a new wave of people passed in front of her, blocking her view of you. Fucking height. She thought with some annoyance as she tried to make her way through the students, trying to get closer to where you were.

When Tara finally managed to locate you again, the scene was quite different from before. Instead of laughing, looking forward, you had your back turned, seemingly struggling while a girl wrapped her arms around your neck. Tara felt a wave of anger rise through her veins and marched in your direction, ready to free you from whoever that crazy bitch was.

The younger Carpenter approached you with a speed she couldn't quite explain, and her motivation only seemed to grow when she noticed that the mysterious girl looked a lot like that senior she had seen with you in the hallway some time ago. Choosing to embrace her negative feelings, she used her strength in a way that would make her sister proud and aggressively pushed the girl away. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Tara?!" You exclaimed in shock, your voice carrying surprise, and your expression wavering between anger, astonishment, and anguish. "What do you think you're doing, are you crazy?!"

Tara saw you getting closer to the girl (Karen, Kendra, she couldn't remember.) and gently placing your hand on her shoulder, as if checking her condition. That small gesture made more anger bubble in her stomach. She wanted to scream, throw a fit, damn, she wanted to destroy something just to get rid of that rotten feeling corroding her from the inside.

But she looked into your eyes and could see a glimpse of the sadness she had caused in the past by this same line of thinking. She couldn't do this to you again, especially because that wasn't even why she had come looking for you. Tara swallowed hard and clenched her fists, deciding to save her frustration to take it out on calluses on her own fingers later.

"She was attacking you," Tara mumbled reluctantly, knowing that the explanation sounded stupid but that she also owed some reasoning for her actions.

You clearly didn't seem satisfied with her motivation, as you only stared at her with a frown and crossed arms. "Kate is a martial arts expert, Tara. She was just showing me how to escape from an arm lock."

Well, how was I supposed to know that? Tara thought, but she decided it was better not to worsen the situation. Before you could ask why she had been clearly looking at you for some time, she decided to explain.

"Look, I'm sorry. There was a ghostface attack in the apartment yesterday, and I just needed to know if you were safe."

"What?! An attack?! How- Are you guys okay?!" You asked exasperated, and Tara saw it. She saw the exact moment when you had to restrain your arms by your sides before doing something you would regret.

Tara remembered that being the first thing you did when you could see her after the surgeries last year. You ran to her on the gurney and held her face with both hands, as if she were fragile. You ran your thumbs over her cheeks, right above the freckles, wanting to make sure nothing was injured. She remembered feeling well cared for and loved.

But that was before she messed everything up. Now, all that was left was that. You restraining yourself from offering your heart to Tara, and she wanting to die realizing the damage she had done between you two.

"Sort of. Anika is in critical condition in the hospital, and... Quinn died." Tara delivered the news with a solemn voice, trying to control her own tears as she remembered what happened. She saw when Kate raised her arm to offer a comforting stroke on your back, and, for the first time, all Tara felt was emptiness knowing she couldn't comfort you in that way.

You let out a few sobs before trying to compose yourself. It was clear that you had been affected by the events, and Tara knew you well enough to know that you would want to go after the others to comfort them. "Which hospital is Anika in? And where are Sam, Mindy, and Chad, I... I need to talk to them."

Tara felt a bit of pride in realizing that she still knew your way of dealing with things, even though she was worried that your priority was always to take care of others' pains. Of course, much of that was her fault, and a knot closed in her throat every time she remembered that fact. "Sam and Mindy are at the hospital waiting for Anika to be discharged. Chad went with Ethan to handle something about an alibi."

"I can take you if you want," Kate offered you in a chivalry that almost made Tara vomit. "It will be faster if we go by car."

"Or maybe it would be faster for her to take the subway with someone who knows the address, like me." Tara retorted sarcastically, crossing her arms to try to cause, at least, the minimal intimidation to her rival. It didn't seem to be working, which made her even more irritated. "Speaking of addresses, where were you last night, Kate?"

Feeling that the conversation would only escalate, you quickly shook your head. "Stop it, Tara. There's no way Kate could be the ghostface."

"And why not?" The girl asked defensively, with an offended tone almost similar to one she would have if you had accused her. It was frustrating for Tara that you seemed willing to vouch for a person you had barely known. "She suddenly appeared in your life, got so close to you in such a short time, don't you find that a bit suspicious?"

"This might sound a bit surprising to you, Tara, but some people actually like having me around." You retorted with irritation, throwing daggers at the girl with a look so intense that she almost stumbled backward. "Kate can't be ghostface because I spent the whole night with her, okay?"

Suddenly, Tara felt dizzy, with a buzzing in her ears. Apparently, you hadn't had the best problem in overcoming your feelings for her. She felt weird inside, as if something were stuck in her throat. "Oh, I didn't know you guys..."

"No! Not like that, I just..." You widened your eyes and hurried to correct the double meaning of the sentence, waving your hands frantically in a way that made Kate open a smile in amusement beside you. "...I slept at her apartment, but not with her. Not that I owe you an explanation anyway."

Your phone vibrated with a notification, and all three pairs of eyes turned to the device. You quickly checked the message and let out a sigh of relief. "It's Sam. She sent me the address of the hospital; I'm going there now. Without any of you, please."

"Okay. Just be careful, alright? And call me if you need anything." Tara watched reluctantly as Kate pulled you closer by the shoulders and planted a small kiss on your forehead. She swallowed the envy and looked away, trying to think of the last time she had offered you any kind of affection.

You said goodbye to Kate with a warm smile and a hug. For Tara, your lips pressed into a line, and you nodded briefly, almost as if you were greeting a stranger.

She wondered if that's what you two were now.

The Carpenter girl prepared to leave, maybe to find Chad and help him or just take a walk to ease the tornado swirling in her chest. However, she was interrupted by a hand on her arm. Kate Bishop tried to get her attention, wearing a conflicted expression on her face.

"What is it?" Tara grumbled, shaking her arm to free herself from the other girl's touch. She was used to being shorter than most people, but with Kate, it became even more annoying, especially when she had to look down at her.

"Look, I know you don't like me, and, to be honest, I don't like you one bit, but I need you to do something for me," Kate said seriously, putting a hand in her pocket and retrieving an object that Tara could only identify as a car key.

The shorter one scoffed. "Listen, I know Y/N and I are on bad terms, but I don't need you to ask me to take care of her. I'm going to do that anyway because I care about her, believe it or not."

Kate rolled her eyes impatiently. "I know. I can see that in you the same way you can see it in me."

It was true, as much as it bothered Tara to admit. She wasn't blind, and she had enough experience in reading people to know that the way Kate looked at you was sincere, and the girl genuinely cared about you. Putting aside her own jealousy and envy, Tara was relieved to know that there was someone good enough to show these feelings for you. You deserved it, after all.

The girl continued, "This device here is a prototype from my mom’s—my company. It's for security." She raised the object and placed it in Tara's hand, who could now see the details of what she had previously thought was a car key. It was a black oval keychain with a single button in the middle, also black. "I pulled some strings and turned it into an emergency button. As soon as you press it, a signal will be sent to police cars and ambulances, and it will be their priority to get to you. That's one of the advantages of being rich and having contacts, I guess."

Tara turned the button in her hands, feeling the object weigh more now that she knew its function. "And why are you giving this to me and not Y/N?"

"Because I know she would use it on anyone but herself." Kate sighed in frustration. Tara knew it was implied in the sentence that you would use the button for her. "I'm giving it to you because... despite the fighting and you being a jerk..."

"Wow. Thanks for the honesty."

"... I can still see that you care." The taller one finished her sentence without caring about the interruption. She looked between Tara and the button with a bit of uncertainty. "When you press it, a signal will also be sent to my phone, and I'll come running wherever it is."

There were more implicit intentions in that sentence that Tara could pick up. I'll come running to help Y/N. I'll take her away from you. I can protect her better than you can.

Tara just offered a short nod and turned to leave, with the emergency button weighing as much in her pocket as her heart weighed in her chest. Thousands of thoughts filled her head, and all of them were about you and your safety. It was Tara's duty to keep you safe, first because it was her fault that you were even in that situation, and second because she had already hurt you enough.

It was her mission to protect you. To prove to herself that she could still be good for you. To prove to you how much she still cared.

And if she couldn't, if she had to press that button... well...

Maybe it would be the sign she needed to understand that Kate Bishop deserved more of a place in your life than she did.

The lobby of the abandoned cinema ironically looked like something straight out of a horror movie that Tara would hate. Dust had piled up in heaps on all surfaces, and the orange lights were so dim that they threatened to go out at any moment.

The others were in the center of the other room, where Richie Kirsch, being the maniac he was, left his extensive collection of items from stab movies and real life ghostfaces. Tara, however, thought it would be a better idea to follow you wherever your feet and lost expression took you, just so she wouldn't have to leave you alone, of course.

You had your back turned to her while leaning on the filthy counter with your elbows. Tara couldn't tell what you were thinking, but obviously, you were not okay, just like everyone else in that situation.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a box of Milk Duds on the other side of the counter that seemed untouched, just a few inches to your left. She approached with light steps, not wanting to make any sudden movements as if that would scare you away, and reached out to bring the box closer. "You like these, right? You can have them if you want."

You didn't respond to the joke, and you didn't even turn around to look at Tara. She felt your indifference like a stab to the chest, but she continued nonetheless. "Or not. This must be like a thousand years old anywa-"

"Tara, shut up." You finally responded sharply, making the younger girl look down in shame. She really needed to get used to your new treatment of her. You ran your hands over your face, covering it as if you were tired.

"Sorry." Tara whispered back weakly. She deserved it, but more than anything, she wanted to be able to offer you some kind of support in that difficult moment, just as you had given her all the support she needed in the past.

You scoffed, in a gesture so hostile that the younger Carpenter almost couldn't believe it came from you. You were still facing away from her, but now slowly taking steps away with tense shoulders. "Did you learn a new word? Didn't know it was in your vocabulary."

Tara felt the anger in your voice, and it made her hands begin to tremble with anxiety. You were right, and it was long overdue for you to know that. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it's too late for this, but I'm sorry for everything I did."

"Do you even care? Seriously, Tara, do you really feel sorry, or do you just miss having some idiot around who would do anything for you?" You retorted, your voice rising even as your vocal cords trembled. A dam had just burst open between you two, and now it was time to deal with the flood.

"Of course, I care, I love you!"

"SHUT UP!" You shouted in response. Tara recoiled from you with a start, startled as she had never seen you raise your voice at anyone. You were still facing away, but Tara could see that, even though you had wrapped yourself in a hug to control your reactions, it wasn't working. Your entire body was tense, as if your brain was struggling to choose between fight or flight, and the result was the tremors that seemed to spread through your system. "You have no right to do this to me! To play with me like this!"

"I'm not lying!" The shorter one retorted, and in an impulsive move, she grabbed you by the shoulder and forced you to turn until your gazes met. Tears were already streaming down your eyes like waterfalls, and your entire face seemed contorted in excruciating pain. Tara wished she could absorb all your hurt for herself. "I know I messed up, but I really love you!"

"You're toxic, Tara! That's what you are!" You shouted back with strength, holding the girl's gaze as if it were a challenge you needed to win. "You hurt me! And I was getting better, damn it, I was getting better away from you!"

"I know you were! I know! That's why I'm apologizing, okay? Because you're the best person I've ever met, and I ruined you like I ruin everyone! Because the best moments I've ever had were with you, and I feel like tearing my eyes out when I remember that I hurt you by being this way!"

"Tara..."

"No! Please let me finish." She rejected your interruption, taking the opportunity to relieve all the pain and guilt she felt inside her. "I'm getting treatment, okay? And I know you're not obligated to forgive me for anything, but I want you to know that I'm trying to be better for you! I'm trying to fix my shit to be someone you and Sam and the others can be proud of!"

"Tara..."

"And I know I hurt you a lot, but please don't doubt the love I feel for you because it's the only good thing left in me. I won't blame you if you never want to see me again, but..."

"TARA, GET DOWN!" You shouted, and before Tara could react, you were already pushing her toward the dusty wooden floor.

Everything was happening too fast for the Carpenter's mind to process. She hit the ground with a grunt of pain and a potential bruise on her arm, but she could see the exact moment when an arm covered in a black cloak descended toward your leg, making a deep cut in your thigh.

You screamed in pain, and Tara screamed next, watching your blood soak through the fabric of your pants and start dripping onto the floor. In a surge of adrenaline, the small girl ran to your side and almost reached for your arm when she was suddenly engulfed in a tight grip, with her two arms pinned to her back and a hand holding a knife to her neck.

She struggled against the masked person holding her, futilely trying to break free to get to you. Tears streamed so quickly down her face that she could taste the saltiness invading her senses. "Let me go! Y/N, run! Please, run!"

A sinister laugh reached her ears like the hiss of a snake. "Oh, Tara. Did you think it would be that easy?"

She recognized that distorted voice with effects all too well. She still heard it in her nightmares, calling her name in the dark. Ghostface was back. "I'm going to kill you, you motherfucker!"

"Oh, but I don't think so." The voice spoke in an amused tone as another killer, wearing the same mask and black cloak, approached your figure on the ground. Tara wailed like a banshee when the other pulled your hair forcefully, forcing you to stand up as he placed a knife on your neck.

She struggled a little more. "Leave her alone!"

"And where's the fun in that?" The ghostface holding her responded, almost as if they were laughing. "Come on, Tara. Weren't you the one who liked to release your anger by hurting Y/N? Why should only you have that privilege? Let's see, where was it that you got stabbed again?"

At the same time, as if reacting to a code, the ghostface holding you advanced in quick and precise movements, gripping you by the waist with one arm while thrusting the knife into you with the other, just above your kidney.

You let out another gasping scream as the blade pierced your skin, and Tara felt your body sagging as if you were about to collapse. She herself wanted to fall to her knees and plead for you to be released, but she couldn't. Whoever was holding her had great strength.

"Don’t you want her to feel the same pain you felt, huh, Tara? Don't want her to suffer what you suffered?" The voice continued to growl in her ear, sounding increasingly excited by the escalating violence. The knife on Tara's neck kept her head in place, so she couldn't look at anything other than your agony.

"No, I don't. Please, PLEASE." Tara pleaded with a tearful voice as another stab was delivered to you, this time in the center of your abdomen. Your shirt gradually turned into a pool of blood, and Tara feared you would faint at any moment.

"Tara..." You could barely pronounce her name, your voice choked and your own blood streaming down your lips. Tara's gaze met yours, and she shivered when you shook your head. She knew what that meant.

You looked feverish. Sweat and blood mingled on your skin, creating the most disturbing of the paintings. Your eyes were vacant, and Tara was so afraid they would close at any moment, never to open again.

And yet, with that nod of your head, Tara understood that your top priority at the moment was to make her understand that it wasn't her fault.

The girl's knees threatened to give up as the knife entered you one, two, three times. She shook her head but couldn't close her eyes because she needed to see you, needed to see that your eyes were still open, that you were still alive.

You couldn't die. You promised not to leave, even if everyone else did. You couldn't die. You couldn't die. You. Couldn't. Die.

"I love you. I'm sorry for loving you, I'm sorry," Tara whispered because she had no strength to speak louder. She felt on the verge of giving up and letting those maniacs do whatever they wanted with her. Nothing mattered anymore if you weren't here, and it was all her fault.

The ghostface holding her laughed with a deep voice. "You know, I could turn this into a Romeo and Juliet scene, but I think it would be more fun to kill you while Sam is watching."

With that, Tara felt her body being thrown backward, and she hit the dirty wooden floor again, this time landing with her head in a wound that would undoubtedly become a concussion.

She got up in a frenzied pace, in an adrenaline rush, thinking she could try to save you now that she was free. But, looking ahead, she realized she was outside the lobby’s door, and the maniac murderer already held the handles. Despite Tara's attempt to advance, the ghostface had already sarcastically waved and locked the doors, creating a deadly separation between you and herself.

Tara pounded on the hard wooden door, ignoring the pain in her knuckles. She hit and hit and hit, feeling cuts open on her skin and burn from the repetitive contact. She was crying, screaming, punching, cursing, doing things she couldn't even rationalize because it didn't matter anymore.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not without you.

She collapsed on the floor, tired, injured, and desperate for you. Her sobs echoed in the seemingly empty hallway, and she was too afraid to put her ear to the door and hear screams of pain like your last breath. Tara felt lost until she remembered that she was no longer trapped.

Rushing to reach the device in her pocket, she sighed in relief to find it unbroken. She pressed the button multiple times without a second thought. If she had a chance to maybe save your life, she would grab it without a doubt.

Tara remembered what she had thought before, how pressing that button might symbolize that she shouldn't be in your life. She stood up and leaned against the wall, trying to rid herself of the wave of nausea, and left the button hidden near the door. If help came following the signal, the first place they would look would be where you were.

If help came and you made it out alive, that was a promise. Tara would finally leave you alone. That's what you deserved.

---

Tara was almost sure she had developed a hospital phobia since the events of last year.

There was no other explanation for why she felt uneasy in that environment, even after they had taken all precautions for her. She still hated the white walls and the smell of chemicals and couldn't wait to get out of there.

For now, she decided to ignore this feeling and continued following Sam through the corridors of fluorescent lighting. It was important for her to stay inside until they finally found the doctor who could tell them what they wanted to know.

She checked her hands again, finding the tanned skin covered in some bandages but free from the mixture of her blood and Ethan's after she... lost control.

After she was separated from you, everything happened so fast that Tara could almost think it was all a delusion. All the revelations, the attacks, her adding another victim to her count, the police arriving... All of that had taken a back seat because nothing was more important than you.

It was as if her life had turned into a black and white movie in the moments she was without you. Everything felt colorless, purposeless. Fortunately, she was pulled out of her own spiral of melancholy when she saw you being taken out of the old movie theater on a stretcher by paramedics. She tried to get closer, but it was needed to give you space so that nothing touched your wounds and caused an infection.

Tara tried to go in the ambulance with you, but she and Sam were pulled for another checkup, and you needed to be rushed to a surgery room urgently if you wanted to have the slightest chance of survival. So, Tara let you go, but there was not a moment when you weren't on her mind.

That's why now, she desperately searched for your surgeon with Sam. No one seemed to know about your condition, and she already felt like tearing her hair out from anxiety. Tara just needed to know if you were at least breathing.

"Dr. Isley?" Sam called the attention of a red-haired doctor who was passing by them in a hurry. Tara sighed in relief that her sister was paying attention to her surroundings because her mind was in a completely different place. "We were informed that you performed emergency surgery on a family member. Her name is Y/n Y/L, admitted with multiple stab wounds."

"Oh, yes. Miss Y/L." The doctor replied in a professional tone, but there was impatiency all over her body language. "It was a difficult surgery, and she lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, no vital organs were hit. I won't lie, the recovery will be painful, but at least she survived the operation without any apparent severe collateral effects."

This was the best news Tara had heard in days. She opened a smile and didn't even try to hide her own happiness as she prolonged the conversation. "Is she in any room? Can we see her?"

"Miss Y/L is in room 604, but I'm afraid only one person is allowed in at a time to avoid any disturbance."

"No problem, we can take turns." Sam pointed between her and her sister. Despite seeming much calmer than the younger one, Tara knew Sam was just as relieved as she was to know that you were still alive.

"No, you didn't understand. There's already someone in Miss Y/L's room." Dr. Isley warned and, seemingly losing the rest of her patience, she began to walk away. "Sorry, but I have other patients to attend to."

The two Carpenter sisters looked at each other alarmed. Who could be in your room? Chad was still in his own surgery, Anika had gone to stay with Mindy while she received some stitches, and frankly, your parents had never been present enough to travel between states so quickly for your sake.

They walked down the corridor, moving as fast as possible without disturbing the other people being treated or working in the area. Tara's heart threatened to jump out of her mouth as she looked from door to door, searching for the numbering of your room. 601. 602. 603.

Tara stopped so abruptly at the door that she and Sam bumped into each other, their sneakers making noise against the shiny white floor. The simple door had a small window through which it was possible to see the inside of the room without necessarily entering. Tara looked inside, ready to break the handle and force her way in if necessary.

But it wasn't, because Tara Carpenter recognized exactly the girl sitting next to your bed, holding your hand gently and stroking your hair, even though you were sleeping. She remembered, with a tightness in her chest, that Kate Bishop would be notified the moment she pressed the button.

And, in her own words, she would come running to take care of you.

"Tara, who-"

"I have to go." Tara interrupted her sister's words, looking at the scene in front of her without blinking. She knew what she had to do; there was no reason to fight the facts.

"What? What do you mean? You just got here." Sam asked, partially annoyed and partially confused by the younger one's actions.

"You heard the doctor. Her recovery will be painful, and if I stay around, all I'll cause is more pain." Tara opened a small smile just to try to pretend that she wasn’t dying inside. She knew Sam could see the truth, that she could see her broken heart and internal conflict, but she also knew that was the only possible solution.

"Tara..."

"Sam, you know I'm right. You told me that yourself a few days ago, remember? I hurt her." The girl shook her head in surrender and took a few steps away from the door. Away from you. "She needs peace, Sam. And the only way she can get that now is if I'm not around."

Tara took one last look inside the room, seeing how peaceful you looked. Sleeping, without any worries, and with an incredible and caring person by your side, ready to help you in whatever you needed.

Someone much better than her.

Perhaps that was the first time Tara had made a selfless decision in a long time, but she didn't feel deserving of any credit for it. What she had to do now was get better. Maybe more entries in her journal and more visits to her therapist would eventually fill the void she felt within her.

For now, she just turned around and started walking away from room 604. Each step hurt, like a razor cutting her skin, but it was the right thing to do. Tara had hurt you for far too long, and now...

Now it was time to let you go.

#scream #scream vi #scream 2022 #scream x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #scream imagine #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter #Spotify

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nattblacklupin · 2 months ago

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Cupids ride

Pairing: Rhysand x fem! Reader

Warnings: Little angst - not really tho, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, amusement park, Mor being supportive bestie

Summary: You're in love with your childhood best friend since forever. You plan on confessing your feelings on special starfall celebrations when something tries to ruin your plans.

Masterlist

Rhysand had been your best friend since childhood. You remember all of the memories you made with each other. The memories that lingered the most were the moments you slowly fell in love with him. Slowly but hardly, you didn't even realise it till you were drowning in your love for him. His smile awoke butterflies in your stomach, making your cheeks red when it's directed at you. You never felt what you did now, not when you were dating some lyrian soilder that wanted you to be his good little wife, not when Helion wanted for you to sleep with him. What you felt was something deeper, stronger. Even the strongest faes could not stop you from feeling what you feel towards Rhysand.

After discussion with Azriel, the only person that you knew wouldn't tell anyone about your little secret. You decided to confess your feelings. It would be so much better than keeping them inside and hurting yourself and possibly him, too, in the end.

The timing seemed perfect for your plan. This year, Rhysand had planned something extra special for Starfall, insisting that the celebration could be even more magical. And you knew how to make it even more memorable for him.

You had to giggle to yourself when the idea of taking him to date there and confessing your feelings came to your mind. Running over to the table in your room you couldn't help but be happy, everything is going according to your plan. Sitting down with a flick of your hand, you summoned parchment and some pen you can write letter to Rhysand with.

Dear Rhysand,

Hello, how have you been in the day court? And when are you possibly coming back? I apologise for all my witty questions that could be perceived as spying for Azriel (maybe I am, you never know). But I would like to invite you with me to the theme park you organised. We could maybe even go try the ride of cupit, or eye of Velaris how you like to call it. Please answer as soon as possible.

Yours,

Y/N

With a light flick of your hand, you send the letter to Rhysand, hoping it will find him in Day court. Your heart hoped even more he would stop his business there to answer. You knew how much he prioritized his work so his court could be happy and save. And in time of starfall, he did even more, wanting to spend time with his family without having to worry about anything going wrong.

It was the day of starfall, and Rhys still didn't come or even send a letter back. You couldn't help but lay in your bed with a blanket over your head. In two hours is the main part of starfall that all of the night court gathers to watch and enjoy, yet you weren't even getting ready, still sad of the possibility of Rhysand not coming.

Suddenly, Mor barged into your room with a beautiful purple dress in her hand. She was dressed in a beautiful red dress that hugged her every curve.

"Stand up and stop moping around. And I don't take no as a answer" you knew arguring with her would let to nothing as she's stubborn and won't stop till she gets what she wants.

"Look at the dress I brought you." You looked up and down the dress she was now holding in both of her hands like proud mother. "Are you sure it will fit me, Mor?" You asked, not sure about how you will look in it.

"Oh please, you will look magnificent in it. Just imagine Rhys' reactions when he sees you." You stood up as fast as you possibly can. "Rhys is coming?" You asked hopefully to which Mor answered only with smile and tossed the dress at you. "Get dressed. I will do your makeup and hair." She winked and left.

You quickly put the dress on, admiring yourself in the mirror. Mor really choosen well with this one. It was a beautiful purple dress that had gems tailored in it that sparkled as the skies of night court. The dress had just enough cleavage for you to feel comfortable and not like you're being exposed too much. You had to thank Mor for this.

"I have to go to Emerie, I hope you can entertain yourself for a while, Girly." She winked at you and left in a blink of an eye. You had to smile. They were so cute together. The happiness turned sour as soon as you remember you're alone on starfall. You looked up to see you're standing in front of a cupid ride.

"Fuck it, if no ones gonna take me I will just take myself" you whisper for yourself deciding to spoil yourself little bit. "But I wanted to take you, darling."

You swear you never moved as fast as you did now, turning your head to the source of the voice.

"Rhysand? What are you doing here, I thought you were in summer court." Rhysand stood there, a teasing smile playing on his lips. He came closer to you, his eyes shimmering at you.

"I was, and I am supposed to be. But I got your letter and couldn't leave out the opportunity to be there with you. " He lifted his hand like he wanted to touch you but hesitated, letting it fall. Then, as if gaining confidence, he took your hand in his. The simple contact sent a thrill through you. Did you really make Rhysand, the Lord of the Night Court, nervous?

"You made my night right now, Rhys. I was ready to go on couples ride alone and make myself the biggest joke of starfall. " He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “That would have been tragic, darling.” He leaned closer to you, his breath on your cheek, and his lips hovered just above yours. "It really would." You let out breathlessly, your heart pounding in your chest.

Fireworks in the shapes of hearts went off in the background while people cheered for the new beginnings. And then, in this moment, his lips met yours in a soft, deliberate kiss. It was gentle, filled with all the affection, need, and love that you had hidden from each other for so long. Your hands found their place in his hair, tugging lightly, and he responded with a low hum of approval.

He slowly pulled back from you, leaving his forehead on yours. "I love you." He whispered so softly that you nearly didn't hear him. "I love you too, Rhys so much." You replied, voice full of emotions.

He took hold of your hand and turned to Cupid ride with a smirk.

"Shall we go then, darling?"

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar fluff #rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhysand fluff #rhysand fanfic #acotar fanfiction #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader fluff

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buckybabesonly · 2 years ago

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Disillusioned

Summary: Every time I tried to take a step closer, he took a step back. Falling in love with Bucky Barnes was easy, but the distance he kept between us was torture.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Angst, happy ending(?)

Warnings: Smut! And minor character death

Length: 3.5k

A/N: My love for Bucky/Sebastian Stan has inspired me to write again 💕 Enjoy (I hope)!

He was having a nightmare.

Bucky didn't often agree to stay the night - I suspected this was part of the reason why. I woke up to sounds of grunting and the loud grinding of his jaw, my bleary eyes adjusting to the view in front of me.

Moonlight illuminated his profile, his eyes shut and brow furrowed, a thin sheen of sweat on his face. He was still asleep, his fists clenching the sheets as I slowly extended a hand.

"Bucky," I whispered, my voice hoarse. I cleared my throat, touching his naked shoulder gingerly. "Bucky," I repeated louder.

He stirred then, eyes snapping open. He almost looked shocked to see me in bed with him, as if he'd forgotten where he was. He pushed himself to sit upright with a sharp inhale, jaw still clenched.

"Are you okay?" I asked, propping myself up with one elbow, concern laced through my voice despite the exhaustion.

"M'fine," Bucky replied in a tone that told me he was most definitely not fine. He wasn't even looking at me, his blue eyes looking at the wall, distant, as if he was recalling an unpleasant memory. Or as if he just didn't want to look at my face. "I gotta go."

"Now?" I glanced at my alarm clock. It wasn't even 4am.

"Yeah." Bucky stood up, and I blushed despite myself at his naked form. My cheeks burned further as I recalled the particularly heated session we had just a few hours ago, both of us collapsing into a sweaty mess. I had whispered a Please, can you stay? to him before I was lulled into sleep, surprised when he had simply grunted and stayed by my side.

"Wait, Bucky - " I reached out instinctively and held onto his right hand, which felt colder than his vibranium one when he almost instantly snatched it away. I faltered, biting down onto my lower lip. "Can we - what's the rush?"

This happened all the time. Whenever I was lucky enough to have Bucky fall asleep by my side, more often than not, he would wake up from the nightmares and just leave, no matter what the hour was. We had never even slept through a sunrise together.

"I have things to do," was his response, his eyes never once meeting mine.

I clutched the sheets against my torso, feeling the all-too familiar cold, creeping feeling in my chest. That feeling of rejection, the feeling of unhappiness when I remembered that Bucky and I weren't really anything, not really. Not quite friends, not quite lovers, and definitely not a couple. He had made that clear.

"Can we just talk for five minutes?" I asked quietly as Bucky hurried to get dressed, his clothes flung haphazardly around my bedroom.

"About what?"

Anything, I wanted to scream. What do you call it when you are so unbelievably in love with someone, so desperate to keep them in your life that you are willing to just be someone that they came to whenever they wanted some casual company, a warm body, some fun? The word I was searching for was "pathetic", probably.

"Do you want to talk about your nightmares?" I asked, picking my nails nervously. I watched as Bucky paused pulling on his shirt for just a millisecond, almost as if he was caught off guard by my query.

"I don't talk about them," Bucky said after a moment, shaking his head.

"Don't you think you might feel better if you -"

"Look," Bucky said sharply, turning to face me. His stern expression softened ever so slightly at the sight of my face, which no doubt looked as torn and pitiful as I felt in that moment. I knew that I had no place to act as if I could help him in any way - what could I possibly do for him?

Bucky's lips formed a tight smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I appreciate the concern. But there's nothing you can do to help me."

Right. Just as I thought.

For some reason, this statement almost made me want to cry. It was another subtle reminder of that tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, I had some small weighting to Bucky's life. Maybe I wasn't just a girl that Bucky came to when he wanted to let off some steam. A spark that was always being snuffed out like a candle.

Bucky left quietly and without so much as a goodbye. The room felt so much emptier without him in it.

Sometimes, I felt that Bucky might genuinely care for me.

Whenever he came to see me, it wasn't always just sex. Sometimes we would spend time together doing things like a normal couple might do - he would help me with random errands, have dinner with me, sometimes even tell me stories from his past, a glimpse into his history.

But it was hot and cold with him. Whenever I dared to let myself believe that Bucky was opening up to me, he would suddenly slam the door shut and leave me out in the cold again.

Bucky Barnes made me weak. I was so willing to give my heart to this man who didn't even know what to do with it.

We were in my apartment on a Sunday afternoon as he tinkered about with the plumbing in my bathroom, offering to help me fix it when he saw that it was leaking. I watched with a small smile on my face as I handed him various tools, watching his face scrunched up in concentration.

My phone lit-up, chiming suddenly with six consecutive notifications. Bucky saw my grimace as I glanced at the screen and switched it to silent.

"What's that?" He asked, grunting as he inspected the bathroom pipes, turning his back to me.

"Um." I paused, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. "This guy that my sister is trying to set me up with. She gave him my number and he's been pestering me." I tried to keep my voice light hearted, but the words fell out like lead. My statement was true, but I couldn't care less about this guy - I couldn't even remember his name. I was just playing the childish tactic of trying to make Bucky feel jealous.

Bucky's hands stilled, just for a second, before they resumed their movement. He couldn't have sounded less interested if he tried when he responded, "Give it a go."

I blinked, my gut twisting.

"What?"

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe dating someone will do you some good."

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach. I didn't know why I was always so keen to self-inflict this pain. It was as if I needed to constantly remind myself that Bucky just didn't want me in that way, until I would get the message.

"Yeah. Maybe."

When Bucky fucked me that night, he held me tighter than usual.

His forehead pressed against mine, our lips pressed together in an angry kiss, his tongue wet and hot in my mouth. He thrust inside me again and again and again, hips snapping as his hands circled themselves around my wrists, holding them above my head.

His mouth opened and he gasped, my back arching with pleasure as his cock continued to slide in and out of me, searching for release.

He came inside me with a moan, his mouth latching onto my neck to leave a hickey, marking my skin, his chest shuddering on top of mine as he came down from his high.

As usual, he left shortly after despite my quiet request for him to stay.

When my friends asked me how I would be spending my birthday, I lied and said I just wanted to spend it alone. Alone with Bucky.

I was delighted when I asked Bucky if he would have dinner with me on my birthday. He nodded and promised he would be there.

I sat in my apartment, clothed in a little red dress that I was sure Bucky would like. I was bouncing on my feet in excitement when he finally knocked on the door, and I beamed at him when I answered.

He was dressed in dark jeans, navy shirt and my favourite leather jacket of his. He looked me up and down, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile.

"You look pretty," he said unexpectedly, his voice sincere.

I blushed, my cheeks on fire. "Thank you."

This was exactly how I wanted to spend my day. With Bucky, having dinner in a tiny little French restaurant that we had both discovered one day months ago, walking along the river afterwards as the sun set. I wanted to hold his hand so much, wanted to cling onto his arm, but I knew better than to do so.

"I need to tell you something," Bucky said solemnly as I smiled. I felt so unbelievably happy with him in this moment. This was one of those moments I managed to tell myself that I could accept being his not-quite-a-lover-and-not-quite-a-friend as long as he was by my side.

"What is it?" My smile faded slowly as he met my eyes, his expression stoic.

"I want you to be happy," he said carefully. "You deserve it." The words hung in the air as I waited for him to continue, not even daring to guess what he really wanted to say. "I know how you feel about me."

"How do I feel about you?" I challenged softly. I had never said the words out loud, but I knew that he knew. I just wanted to hear him say it.

"I know you love me," he said after a long pause. The sound of the water filled the silence as I looked at him, unsure of what he would say next. "I want you to be happy, but you know I can't give that to you."

There was a long, strained silence. "Why not?" I asked, my chest tightening. I knew I was being stupid, pathetic even, just by asking the question. "You never even gave us a chance."

I don't deserve one.

"You knew from the beginning that this could never be anything more than what it is," Bucky said, his tone gentle but his eyes hard.

"Why?" I repeated, frustration bubbling.

"Because I don't do relationships," Bucky retorted, voice now sharp. His words stuck themselves into me like needles. "I want you to be happy, really. Truly. But I can't give you a happy ending."

Why did it feel like he was breaking up with me when there was no relationship to break in the first place?

"So now what?" I whispered, trying desperately not to cry. Not in front of him, please. I wanted to know if he ever felt anything for me. I wanted to know if there was ever a time where he might have considered loving me back.

"I'll be leaving the city tomorrow. For good."

I had no right to ask him to stay. Bucky Barnes was his own person, and he would do what he wanted to. I was inconsequential, a nothing. I had let myself become so caught up in this fantasy and my stupid hope, setting myself up for failure.

"Okay."

Love was such a fucking trap. Bucky had tried the whole dating thing in the past, naively thinking that maybe, he could actually find someone and get a taste of normalcy. Before he met her, he had dated a few different girls, but something never felt quite right.

And then she exploded into his life, all smiles and positivity and everything that Bucky might actually need and want.

It fucking terrified him.

He fell in love so quickly with her. It felt so easy, so right. But as soon as he made that realisation, he also knew - love was dangerous. She was so delicate, so trusting, Bucky felt like he wanted to be around her to protect her always.

But having her meant that she would always be in danger. There would always be a threat, lying dormant, until one day something would happen to her. As long as Bucky cared about her, she would always be something to lose.

Sam said he was being dumb. That he was hurting her by teasing her with Bucky's presence and yet always being just out of her reach.

Bucky was selfish. He just didn't want to let her go, even if it meant that every time she took a step forward, he would take a step back and watch her heart get crushed.

But it wasn't sustainable. He knew he had to bite the bullet and leave eventually.

He just told himself that he would do it the day after. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

He just always wanted one more day with her.

Bucky had left two months ago.

Those two months passed by like my own personal hell. The calls left unanswered, the texts left unread. I felt so pathetic as I stared at our WhatsApp conversation, my words being fired off despite telling myself that I shouldn't.

Wed 7 Dec - How are you?

Fri 9 Dec - Where are you right now? Thinking about you.

Mon 19 Dec - I know you won't answer. I don't even know why I bother you text you these. I just want to know if I ever meant anything to you.

Sat 24 Dec - I think I was so stupid to love you.

I don't know what else I expected. He was the famous Bucky Barnes, one of Earth's mightiest heroes. He was busy saving lives and doing dangerous shit, and I was - what? Some random girl who just happened to be there at one point in his life. If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else who had ended up as his fuck-buddy.

The realisation was heart-wrenching. He could easily take off and leave, never answer the phone or my messages, because I was never anything important to him. He could write me out of his life, because I was just a page in his novel. To be forgotten about.

I heard about Sam's death half a year after Bucky had left.

It was plastered across the newspaper headlines. Sam had been killed on a mission in Siberia, a mission headed by himself and Bucky. The moment I heard the breaking news on the radio, my heart stopped, the grief threatening to crush me.

There was a public memorial in Washington, D.C., near the National Mall. I attended alone, travelling there alongside hundreds of thousands of other people, strangers, all wishing to pay their respects to the Falcon.

I didn't expect to see him there. I was so confident that he would be mourning him privately, away from the public eye, away from all the people.

I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the dark figure leaning against the passenger side of my door, cap on his head, leather gloves tight around his hands. I didn't even need to meet his eyes to know it was him.

There were no words exchanged. He got into my car silently as I did the same, barely daring to breathe lest he suddenly dissipate into the air like an illusion, as I was convinced he couldn't be real.

It wasn't until we got back to my hotel that he snapped. The door closed and he was there, crumpling into my arms, his own wrapped around me tightly, his face buried into my shoulder.

His tears wet my skin, ragged breathing loud and in agony.

"I'm so sorry," he moaned in a pained voice, his arms squeezing me so hard that I could barely breathe. "I am so sorry."

"Bucky," I whispered, feeling his warmth against me as I finally dared to accept that he was really here. He was really, truly here. "I got you. It's okay."

"No," he gasped, his tears soaking my shirt. I had never seen him cry before, and the vulnerability broke my heart. "I can't lose you too. I can't lose you."

His knees buckled, dragging me onto the floor with him as he cried, his arms never once letting go of me. My hands lifted to stroke his hair as his chest heaved with painful sobs.

This was the sound of a broken man. The sound of someone who had lost Steve, and now Sam, and the floodgates had finally broke.

He lifted his head to look at me, eyes bloodshot and his hands raised to cradle my face. I felt so overwhelmed by all the emotions in my heart - grief, confusion, love, relief, sadness. Everything all at once, crushing my ability to think straight. Everything felt surreal, happening at a pace that I couldn't keep up with.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered. "I wanted to keep you safe, wanted to keep you - keep you alive, want you to have a normal life, and I ruined everything. I ruined everything." The words streamed out nonsensically to me. "I had to leave, had to go before things got too bad, but I was so stupid. Being so fucking stupid. I can't lose you too. I can't lose you."

"James, breathe," I said gently, staring back at him and trying not to reveal just how worried and perplexed I was.

"You knew, right? You had to know how I felt about you, deep down," Bucky asked, pleading. I didn't answer as he continued to sob - I simply held him, letting him cry against me.

Nightfall came, and Bucky had quietened. You were both lying on the bed, fully clothed, his hand clutching yours tightly. The feeling felt unfamiliar and right at the same time.

"I have always loved you," Bucky said quietly, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.

My breath hitched. He's lying, the voice of doubt said, loudly and clearly in your mind.

"I fell in love with you. How could not?" He continued, his voice pained. "But it terrified me. The feeling of being in love, of having something to lose. The knowledge that I am what I am - someone with a history, with blood on my hands, knowing I've done unspeakable things that I am so afraid for you to find out about."

I turned my head to look at him, not quite daring to believe what he was saying.

"You have no idea." He looked at me finally, his eyes still wet and tortured. "I wanted to let you know how much I loved you. I wanted to be happy with you. But I couldn't."

"Bucky..."

"But I'm tired of running away," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Leaving you was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I don't think I can survive without you." He laughed suddenly, humorlessly. "Is that selfish?"

"No," I replied instantly. My stomach swirled, and I knew he could see the doubt in my eyes with just one look.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

I remained silent for a long minute before I finally answered. "I just don't understand how you could love me."

I flinched at the rage that flashed across his face. Not quite anger at me, I realised, but fury at himself.

"I made you think that I didn't love you back," he said tersely, fists balling up. "And I will never forgive myself for that. I was playing hero but actually I was just being stubborn. Being so unbelievably stupid."

He rolled over to position himself on top of me suddenly, eyes fixed on mine. He propped himself up above me with his hands on either side of my head, eyes pleading.

"When I met you, I had no idea I could feel this way for anyone. The way you smiled at me, the way you understood me, the way you made me laugh and the way you cared. When you fell in love with me, I could feel it. I felt so special to be the one you chose.

I told myself that I couldn't let you in. I couldn't let it get too far. I couldn't tell you about myself, about my childhood, about the terrible things I've done, about the good things I've done, about the hopes and dreams I had for the future. I told myself that if I let you in, it would be too real. You would be someone that I could lose, and if i lost you, it would kill me."

"So you would rather just leave me?" I whispered, my eyes welling up at the memory of the long six months I'd endured without him.

"I thought I was keeping you safe," he replied, eyes closing briefly as he gritted his teeth.

"You broke my heart," I said simply. The statement wasn't made to hurt him, but rather just a declaration of the truth.

"I don't know what to do," Bucky said, shaking his head as his eyes revealed the conflict in his mind. "I don't want to be apart from you anymore. But I don't want to risk putting you in danger. As long as you're with me, you will always be in danger. I don't know what to do," he repeated, looking so anguished that I wanted to cry all over again.

"Please just stay," I pleaded. "Please stay with me."

Bucky kissed you finally, his chapped lips against yours, melting into you as soon as they met. He sighed shakily, as if he was finally home after a long day.

"I'll stay. I'll protect you with everything I have. I promise."

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky angst #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes angst

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