#in fact the second she realises his life is in danger she's willing to throw her own away to save him

[sylleblosscm]

The scenes that came next defied everything she believed true of their lives and fates. Deep within the Citadel, Noctis sat upon the throne as the True King, calling forth the power of the Ring of the Lucii, summoning the souls of his ancestors. Thirteen Kings of Yore encircled Noctis, weapons held raised and ready. Each in turn thrust spectral steel into Noctis’s flesh. Tears formed in Lunafreya’s eyes as she watched. “Noctis!” she screamed. “Why?!”

She’d been asked by King Regis to see the Ring of the Lucii safely to his son. Keeping that promise, she believed, would ensure a future for their star. So she’d run desperately to escape Insomnia as the city went up in flames. She slipped in among the throngs of evacuees and quietly made her way toward Altissia. Never had she imagined that the object for which she’d risked so much would ultimately take her beloved’s life. She had sacrificed her life, only for the man she loved to lose his as well. That, it seemed, had been the Oracle’s calling. All strength left her body, and she collapsed to her knees. If only she’d known . . . If only she’d realized the truth of her actions and the end they would bring . . .

“The Draconian would destroy us,” she murmured to herself. It was beyond comprehension. The gods were committed to safeguarding Eos and all its inhabitants. Never once had she doubted that, not even when Gentiana had spoken of Bahamut’s place as being above and distant from all, less attuned to mortal existence. (...) “It is unforgivable,” she whispered to herself, new anger boiling to the surface. But she did not yet know how to proceed. She stared at the ceiling, scouring her mind for ideas.

[yandere-toons]

Can I request platonic (father figure) hcs for Bruno Madrigal (Encanto), Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck (LTS)? Thank you sm ✨🕺

Yandere Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Bruno Madrigal (Platonic Headcanons)

Warnings: child neglect, toxic mindsets.

A.N. – This was fun! I wouldn't mind doing it for more characters.

Bugs Bunny (The Looney Tunes Show)

Although he is much more composed than Daffy, Bugs teaches the kid to prioritize fun over duty. Work and school play second fiddle to games and recreation. Bugs is adamant about telling off anyone who protests against his parenting style, taking a condescending approach to these people and hinting that his kid is happier than theirs.

Bugs is the type of dad who plays dress-up with the kid, and while he is at it, he gives lessons on how to trick others via different costumes. The kid is taught how to subtly manipulate and turn conversations, a fact that Bugs applauds and encourages. He is happy to assist in many of these schemes as long as they do not physically hurt anyone.

Lola thinks of herself as the kid's mother and acts like she and Bugs are a married couple with a child. She argues with strangers about her legitimacy as a mother and Bugs' legitimacy as a father, leading Bugs to salvage the situation by agreeing to take Lola and the kid to a family dinner.

Bugs is comfortable being seen alongside the kid in public, as he considers himself the father and a superb one at that. However, if the kid insists on a solo mission and Bugs gets concerned, he tends to follow the kid in drag and masquerade as an ordinary worker or civilian throughout the trip.

If Bugs were to meet the kid's birth parents, he would demean them and make it obvious that he does not care for their presence in the kid's life, for there is no possibility of Bugs renouncing his role as a father figure. He makes room for the kid to stay in his house and is more than willing to kick Daffy out of the spare bedroom to the couch.

Daffy Duck (The Looney Tunes Show)

Daffy did not have much of a father in his youth, and the few times that the man was around, he was neglectful and emotionally unavailable. As a result, Daffy has little to no idea what he is doing in terms of fatherhood but will act like he is an expert on the topic.

He claims that the kid's birth parents or legal guardians are hopelessly inept and should just hand the kid over to him. If a custody battle breaks out, Daffy relies on the collective funds of Bugs and Porky to pay the legal fees and refuses to drop the case until he exhausts the opposition.

Daffy is a bit of a deadbeat dad, as he spends most of his days lazing around Bugs' house. Many of his friends, such as Lola and Porky, are happy to watch the kid for a night or two or three, leaving Daffy with virtually nothing to show for his status as the kid's father figure. He sets a bad example and does not mind that the kid may follow it.

He lets the kid eat, say and do pretty much anything unless it inconveniences him. If someone tells him to better discipline his kid, Daffy throws away these criticisms like a pile of trash and insults whoever said it. To prove his superior parenting style, Daffy then gives the kid money that was first given to him by Bugs and says to go wild with it.

If the kid requires it, Tina finds herself doing most of the caregiving. She hounds Daffy about his lacking sense of responsibility and argues that he should abdicate his fatherly title if he is unwilling to put forward the effort. Daffy responds with the assurance that he is a model father, not caring to realise how much he is mirroring his own father.

Bruno Madrigal

Until he is welcomed into the family again, almost everyone thinks Bruno is unfit to be a father of any kind. They say he is dangerous, that he brings nothing but doom and gloom to those around him. It takes months before people on the street quit glaring at him every time he is seen with the kid in public.

Bruno himself believes that he is unsuitable for a long time and does not understand why a kid would form an emotional attachment to him. He approaches fatherhood with palpable awkwardness and hesitancy, often requiring the kid to initiate interactions beyond a simple hello and goodbye.

He becomes more open and responsive to the idea over time, and eventually, Bruno gathers the courage to introduce his rats. Bruno is overjoyed if the kid likes them or at least learns to like them, sending the rats to watch over the kid in his absence and offering to have the rats perform the kid's favourite program whenever the urge strikes.

If people continue to give him trouble for acting as a father figure, Bruno takes on a bitter attitude towards this prejudice against him. He complains about it in private and claims that he does as fine a job as anyone else. Bruno puts his foot down when someone discriminates against the kid because of him.

Bruno is willing to adopt the kid, but as for the kid's birth parents or legal guardian, he struggles to talk to them. If he or his rats discovers that they are mistreating the kid, Bruno declares that he is the new father and will not take no for an answer. He looks to Alma and the rest of the Madrigals for support if this evolves into a greater dispute.

[lerry-hazel]

HERE BE SPOILERS !!! (e5)

I’m making a list of all those fishy things in GO2 I’m no longer willing to dismiss, because it makes me feel vindicated.

******************************e5*************************************

The one where someone counted major plotpoints and realised there aren’t enough for 6 episodes; and so they had to spend this one tediously getting into positions and talking about what happens next; and throw in some impertinent sex-jokes when it still wasn’t enough.

Also featuring:

1. Justifying stupid actions by calling them stupid outright: goes both for French and making a scene in front of Nina.

2.More lame foreshadowing: Nina, whose only defying characteristics so far have been grumpiness and keeping to herself, suddenly feels a burning need to interrogate a person she’s met exactly three times (ten minutes top combined) about his love life.

3. More forced location changes: Crowley abruptly stops following Aziraphale and goes to sit in a café: for no other reason but to set off a discussion on how he doesn’t want to stay in the bookshop with Gabriel around.

Whereupon he stands up and goes into the bookshop – to tell Gabriel he believes might be faking amnesia exactly how they’d pulled the hellfire/holy water trick. And that’s before he even does the window test, which is also pretty stupid, since an archangel in disguise could probably afford to take a fall from the first floor.

4. Villainisation: Aziraphale hears his best friend is uncomfortable in his home and reacts with “Nah, you’ll be fine”.

5. More villainisation: Aziraphale hears Crowley is in danger and doesn’t even take one look out of the window.

6. Even more villainisation: Aziraphale dismisses Crowley’s help.

7. Aziraphale’s miracles being wonky: he can, apparently, move a roomful of people in cotillion formation and alter their speech patterns, but can’t order them to walk away from danger. Also, angels can make people move, talk and feel against their will???

8. Nina stays to help a person who she not unreasonably believes is mind-controlling a roomful of people.   

9. Yet more forced location changes: Crowley going to Heaven.

10. Giving away books.

11. Almost forgot: Gabriel's outfit.

All in all, there is precisely one enjoyable second in the whole episode: Aziraphale’s goofy smile when he drags Crowley to dance.

For that one second I allowed myself to believe the annoying fuss was because that’s what the whole ball thing was about, but, nope, it all goes back to thoroughly unappealing and utterly pointless story of Nina and Maggy.

Also, (see point 1) making Crowley say it out loud doesn’t change the fact that Aziraphale isn’t supposed to dance.  

[misschifuyu]

General relationship headcanons with Inui and Hakkai

requested

characters: inui seishu + hakkai shiba

genre: fluff

warnings: none

Inui

inui is someone who is very careful when it comes to expressing his feelings. he much prefers to keep a neutral stance whenever speaking to those he cares most about, simply because it helps him not develop too strong of a bond with the other person. he's afraid to follow the path of koko, so he's especially careful when it comes to love

so it came as quite the shock when you came into his life. no doubt, he found you attractive at first glance, but even after just a few words exchanged here and there, he had started to wonder - and, frankly, worry - why he wanted to continue listening to you, to get to know you better

as he started to connect the dots, he quickly recalled just how his friend would act with his sister. and it frightened him.

he was falling and he had nothing to grab onto, to stop himself from sinking into the one emotion he had been running away from - love

when you confessed, since he most definitely not put himself in that situation seeing as he was trying to control his growing affection towards you, he would be left absolutely stunned. of course, he reciprocated your words, but it would take him a few minutes to explain to you that he was scared of a relationship

but, don't worry. you understood him, and were willing to take things as slow as he needed. after all, there was no need to rush into everything all at once

give him a few weeks, let's say two. during this time, he would visit you much more often, hold your hand when he knew no prying eyes were around and, all around, start warming up to you. of course, he knew you well enough by that point, but it still took him a little to get used to the whole relationship status

he will, undoubtedly, come to koko whenever he had any doubts. he wants to improve himself for you, trying his best to become the partner you deserve. his friend may be not always be of the best help, but anything was better than nothing

once he has fallen into a comfortable state around you, you will quickly notice what he had been deprived of all these years. he turns into a very affection person whenever he's around you, mostly when you're either at his house or yours. expect to be followed around quietly by this softie

hugs from behind are his personal favourite. feeling you so close to him, your arms holding onto his as he bring you into his chest and rests his head on yours. it's very comforting for him, so expect him to do so quite often. he may be silent as he does so, but the way his heartbeat will slow down will be enough to tell you that he feels safe with you

play with his hair whenever the two of you are cuddling, trust me. your fingers running through his soft locks will be enough to send him off into a good, hour-long nap, no questions ask. he's a pretty deep sleeper, so you can tie his hair up into a bun. he will be oblivious to it all until he walks past a mirror upon waking up, groggy eyes fixating on the little mass of hair on the top of his head

one thing that will truly make his heart flutter is whenever you pepper his face with kisses. although he may not mention it, he's a little insecure about his scar. but this will quickly change when you tell him how all his features are absolutely beautiful, placing little, butterfly kisses on his soft skin as he lays on your lap, facing you from below

you truly are his source of comfort, of love. he won't brag about you, but by the way his lips would turn up into a smile when he knows he'll see you after a meeting is more than enough to let the other members of the gang know just how much he loves you

a closeted lover boy, let's say

he will, on occasions, turn up at your house during the late hours of the evening with a a flower or two he picked up on his way to your place, or even a box of your favourite snacks. anything that reminds him of you, really. and if you gift him something, you best believe he will treasure it as though his life depended on it

one thing that you hadn't expected from him was his liking towards taking pictures. he's always been fond of snapping pictures of sceneries here and there, and he just so happens to have one of these polaroid cameras

your wall - and his, for that matter - will be filled with selfies, random pictures of him you'd take and some of yourself that he'd keep on his bedside table. he deemed it a way to remind him of how much the two of you have been through and the importance you held in his life

of course, his phone wallpaper is a picture of the two of you when you went to a summer fair, where he most definitely didn't spend the best part of half his change on trying to win you a prize that had caught your eye

afterwards, you had insisted on trying to win him something too; however, he had assured you that there was no need, he was more than content with seeing you get a prize instead

inui will be very cautious when it comes to your involvement with anything related to the gang. if you happen to be also member, he will stick by your side just as much as he does with koko, and will not hesitate to throw himself into a dangerous situation if you were ever at a disadvantage

he's a little reckless when it comes to this. he acts without thinking when it comes to your safety, so more often than not, others will have to get involved if things get ugly. he may not look like much of a threat, but he will completely change his demeanour whenever those he loved were involved

he just can't afford to lose another person again. having found someone he could fully trust in, and show love to, he isn't about to let some punk take it all away from him. so he will put his own life on the line

but it's mutual, between the two of you. undoubtedly made for each other, it would take some doing from the enemy to actually knock one of you out. truly a couple that any gangster would wish for, that is an indisputable fact

Hakkai

the baby of the shibas. he may act all tough and strong when with toman, but it's a given fact that he has a very soft, vulnerable side. it's really what comes with such a conflictive childhood; but he will constantly try to put all of that behind him, building himself up to stand up to those who looked down upon him

this strategy of his, however, won't be very effective when he was introduced to you. a close friend of mitsuya's, he had thought the two of you might get along quite well. right off the bat, hakkai had to take a few seconds before actually coming to the decision of what to say to you upon first seeing you

he couldn't exactly tell you how attractive you were on the first day, now could he?

as the two of you would get to know you better - fulfilling mitsuya's expectations - he would start to notice that he looked forward to seeing you each time there was a meeting. this would lead to a timid suggestion of hanging out either before or after the next meeting, receiving a content response from your behalf

his crush will go anything but unnoticed by his sister. yuzuha will quickly notice how he would come home a little quiet, lost in his thoughts although not in a gloomy state. he actually seemed to be a little happier now

she would be the one to push him to confess to you, after having heard his considerably long rant about you that he accidentally came out with whilst he was talking to her. she was over the moon to hear that her little brother was finally crushing on someone, and would walk him through all the key points to not scare you off or come off as weird when he told you about his feelings

luckily enough, her strategies proved to be successful, and before he could even register it in his mind, hakkai had achieved a relationship with the one that had been flooding his thoughts for a good few months now

although he may not be entirely experienced in the whole dating area, he will be anything but shy when trying his best to be the perfect boyfriend. he may not show much pda, mainly because he still tries to upkeep his strong persona even around you, but his lingering will not go unnoticed by the other members. wherever you were, hakkai was never too behind

he just loves being around you, to be able to call you his partner. you're like a little - since this guy is ridiculously tall - beam of light that he wished he could keep by his side at all times. behind closed doors he will be much more affectionate, to the point you would actually wonder if this was the same person you would attend toman meetings with

being the soft giant he is, he absolutely loves engulfing you in his arms. spooning you, hugs from behind, laying you on his chest, you name it. he can be awfully cheesy at times, too, so expect to be showered with the most sappy comments ever. you're convinced he keeps a list of them.

"you wanna know what's the best thing in my life? it's the first word of this sentence"

"hakkai...you realise that just works better written down, right?"

definitely an avid enthusiast of making you think over why you were with him in the first place. of course, you loved him and everything that came with the youngest shiba, but sometimes you truly wondered where he got his personality from

speaking of family, meeting his siblings will be an experience in itself, to say the least. yuzuha will be ever so welcoming when you first went over to their house, offering you food and sitting you down to get to know you better. she knew you were a perfect match for her brother, and she's delighted to have you as a sister-in-law

now...taiju may be a little different. just by appearance, he's quite intimidating. you did know about him, but you had never actually spoken to him in the entirety of your life. hakkai will stand nearby when you eventually meet him, just in case something got out of hand.

however, surprisingly enough, the eldest sibling gave you a friendly pat on your shoulder, thanking you for finally giving his brother a chance at a relationship. the way it came off sounded like he believed hakkai to be almost unlovable, but you supposed it was pretty good coming from such a scary individual

needless to say, your boyfriend had a few things to murmur about when his brother left. you reassure him that it was alright, though. truthfully, you had expected it to go another way even

dates with hakkai will be quite an often occurrence. apart from his duties in toman, he doesn't have much to do. he attends online school, so as soon as he slaps his laptop closed, he's usually on his way over to your house. he will always take you out on a ride on his motorbike, around the busy city filled with people and commotion

you want to go out for lunch? he knows the best places. want to go shopping? the guy brought his wallet for a reason. he's such a sucker for you that he will drive across the city for even the smallest thing for you, he didn't mind. if it meant he could see that smile of yours, he's absolutely willing to do anything

he's also a perfect shopping partner. he hangs out with mitsuya a lot, so he's picked up on some knowledge on fashion and is more than happy to help you pick out outfits. he will always offer to carry your bags, too. truly the perfect boyfriend, wouldn't you agree?

just be sure to shower him in love and kisses once you get back home. he will happily receive each and every one with a wide smile, lifting you up into his arms as he tells you, once more, how much he loves you

some may say the two of you are too soft and sappy for a couple involved in the gangster world, but neither of you could care less. not everyone could say they fought alongside their partner that they would, afterwards, spend quality time with, no matter how bruised up you were

you always had a laugh after a fight with other gangs; both of you would always mock the rivals, saying how they never really stood a chance in the first place

the two of you are like a pair of old women when it came to judging people neither of you liked; if anyone happened to listen in, they would automatically think you were simply best friends by the way you would speak

needless to say, hakkai will be both an amazing boyfriend as much as a friend, and you can always count on him if you're ever in need of a mood booster, because he will rush over to your place as fast as he can

[flowercrown-bard]

I was today years old when I found out that cornflowers can also be white/purple and pink.

My first instinct was to never refer to Jaskier’s eyes as being the colour of cornflowers again. My second instinct was to write this instead:

Soulmate AU

word count: ~3k

pairing: Geraskier

Content warnings: blood, injuries

The Colour of Cornflowers

Jaskier’s eyes were the colour of the sky, of the sea, of sapphires. At least that was what people said, when they tried and often succeeded in wooing Jaskier. People who had been lucky enough to have found their soulmates and foolish enough to risk that happiness for a bard who would leave them come the morning.

Geralt would never understand those people. They had something so precious, so special and they were willing to throw it away for a pretty pair of eyes.

Geralt never understood those comparisons to sky, sea and sapphire either, and not only just because he had never seen the colour of either of those things. They just sounded so… cliché. As if someone tried painfully hard to sound like a poet. And didn’t the sky change colour during the dawn or at night? Did every body of water have the same colour? And didn’t some lord or another once proudly present his differently coloured sapphires, knowing full well that Geralt wasn’t able to distinguish between them anyway?

And he never would. It wasn’t uncommon for people to never see the world in colour – soulmates were rare and it wasn’t unheard of that some people lost all sight of colour after rejecting their soulmates for whatever reason.

But all of those people could at least still hope to have the world burst into colour at some point in their lives. Unlike Geralt.

“It is a mercy,” Vesemir had said when he had explained to the frightened boys that would become witchers or die in the trials that they would lose the ability to ever find their soulmates, “that you won’t have to go through that. You won’t get distracted by searching for them. And you won’t get your hearts broken.”

Because even then, Vesemir hadn’t made them believe what everyone else accepted as fact: That witchers didn’t feel, didn’t love.

Vesemir had known better. And he had known that that didn’t change a damn thing. A witcher would fall in love all he wanted, no one would ever accept a witcher’s love.

When Geralt had been younger, he had told himself he would be different. He had thought himself a knight that would one day rescue a damsel or meet a stable boy who loved horses as much as he did. He had thought they might fall in love – for who wouldn’t want to love a hero? – and they would be happy together, Destiny and soulmates be damned.

And then he had saved his first damsel. When she had seen his face, she had screamed and vomited and passed out. And Geralt for the first time understood what Vesemir had meant when he had said it was a mercy not knowing one’s soulmate.

Whoever was cursed to be a witcher’s soulmate, they would draw back in horror once they saw the sickly yellow of their eyes – at least that was how Geralt’s eyes had been described to him – and they would reek of fear rather than of love when they realised just whom Destiny had bound them to.

No human should have to get punished with such a fate. And Geralt knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from shattering if he ever saw disgust on his soulmate’s face.

So it was better that he would never know if he ever met them. It was better that he would never see the colour of Jaskier’s eyes.

He didn’t need to anyway. People never shut up about them, after all.

Between all of those descriptions that made Geralt want to roll his eyes, there was one that somehow got stuck in his mind, no matter how he wanted to shake it off.

Cornflowers.

For some reason it sounded right. Geralt was sure a poet, or even just about any man who was better with words than him, would be able to create a beautiful and meaningful connection between Jaskier and the preciousness of gems, the ever-moving sea or the freedom of the sky or other such sappy nonsense.

But cornflowers…Jaskier had named himself after a flower, hadn’t he? And cornflowers weren’t so different from buttercups. He had heard farmers complain about them, about how difficult they were to get rid of once they had started sprouting in their fields.

Geralt’s lips had twitched upwards when he had heard that and looked at Jaskier who had returned his side-eye with a cheeky wink, as if he knew exactly that Geralt was thinking about the way Jaskier had attached himself to Geralt no matter how hard he had tried to prevent that.

He tried no longer.

He had grown used to Jaskier’s presence. No, it was more than that. He had gotten to appreciate it. To enjoy the humming and chattering. To relish in the feeling of Jaskier running his fingers through Geralt’s hair. To feel his stomach twist in anticipation when he saw Jaskier again after months spent apart.

And when they were apart, Geralt found himself looking at cornflowers, unable to stop his lips from twitching into a soft smile. He might not be able to see their colour and never would, but that didn’t change the fact that they reminded him of Jaskier and of how he hadn’t drawn back in disgust or flinch from his touch even once.

Of course it helped that Jaskier had never seen his eyes in colour either. He couldn’t have. Because if he did, then surely he would have reacted in some way. No one, not even Jaskier was that good an actor.

True, his songs about Geralt often featured descriptions of his eyes – of honey, gold and sunflowers – but Geralt didn’t need to see colours to know that those descriptions were ludicrous. Predatory, sickly, creepy. That was how his eyes were normally described. Jaskier must have just heard the word ‘yellow’ and then asked other people for other, more pleasant things of the same colour. For surely, no one who had ever seen his eyes as they really were would think of something so kind that the first time Geralt had heard it, he had to leave the room for he was sure that he wasn’t able to keep the fondness and admiration he felt in that moment out of his eyes.

Fleeing hadn’t helped, of course. Jaskier didn’t need to sing of honey-eyes or silver moonlight-hair to make Geralt’s chest clench and his fingers itch to reach out and pull Jaskier close.

A single smile from him was enough. A quiet moment shared by a fire. Laughter and bad jokes as they travelled side by side.

Witchers could love and in those moments, Geralt was more thankful that fact than he had ever been for anything else. Loving Jaskier was beautiful.

And it was the most painful and terrifying thing Geralt could imagine.

Never in his life had Geralt been as scared as he had been when he had seen Jaskier run towards him while he was in the middle of a fight. For a terrifying moment, when the griffin’s talons had hit their mark and torn deep gashes into Jaskier’s chest, he had thought this was it. This was how Jaskier died. Because of him.

But as Geralt had dropped to his knees next to him, pressing his hands against the wounds and pleading with Jaskier to stay with him, Jaskier hadn’t blamed him, hadn’t yelled at him or tried to evade his touch. Instead he had lifted one of Geralt’s hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against it, heedless of the blood sticking to them.

Jaskier’s eyes had fallen shut and Geralt’s blood had run cold.

His eyes had opened again, later, when Geralt had bandaged up his wounds and brushed his hair out of his forehead tenderly, the same way Jaskier sometimes did with Geralt’s hair when he woke up, drenched in sweat and with his heart racing from a nightmare about the trials, about the day he had lost all hope of ever finding his soulmate.

When Jaskier’s eyes had fluttered open and his face had broken into a smile so soft as if Geralt was the most beautiful sight Jaskier could imagine, Geralt had known. He could never let something like this happen again. As long as Jaskier was with Geralt, he was in danger.

But Geralt had also known that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of Jaskier – neither would he be strong enough to push him away, nor would Jaskier ever willingly go.

Not until Geralt did the unthinkable. Through friendship, through deadly injuries and insults being spat at them, Jaskier stayed with Geralt. But even he had his limits. Even he wouldn’t be able to stay with a witcher, knowing he was loved by him. By a mutant, monster, butcher.

Geralt knew it, the world knew it and surely Jaskier himself knew it too: Jaskier deserved better than someone like him, better than being loved by someone like him. Confessing his feelings to Jaskier would be the last straw that would finally make Jaskier act upon this knowledge and go find someone good enough for him. Someone who wouldn’t put him in danger. Perhaps even someone who could tell Jaskier that his eyes looked like cornflowers and see it too.

Geralt knew that saying the words would irrevocably drive Jaskier from his side. He knew the moment of rejection and disgust would forever be branded in his mind. It would be the thing Geralt would remember when he got injured on a hunt while knowing that Jaskier wouldn’t be waiting for him with a worried look and tender touches.

And yet. Geralt couldn’t bring himself to just say it. He only got one chance to tell Jaskier how he felt, and although it would end in Geralt being shattered and alone, he wanted to relish the moment, the chance to let himself believe for even just a moment that Jaskier wouldn’t push himself away.

So Geralt waited and planned. A part of him knew that he was selfish, that he was only drawing this out so that he would get to keep Jaskier by his side a little longer. Another part of him wanted it to be perfect. He wanted Jaskier to think back to Geralt and remember someone who had tried despite everything to give Jaskier a confession that he deserved.

Except, Geralt wouldn’t ever be able to give such a thing to Jaskier. He wasn’t good enough for him and neither would anything he could ever give him be.

He didn’t have poetic words or grand gestures.

A simple gesture would have to be enough. Maybe it would even help to make Jaskier leave.

It was pure coincidence that they passed the field that day. Jaskier’s hair was lighter than normal in the sun and his smile was bright and easy. Geralt let himself look at him like this one last time. Jaskier was beautiful. Too beautiful for someone like Geralt.

Geralt shouldn’t get to keep him. He had to do it. Now.

Taking a shaking breath and clenching his jaw as if that would stop his hands from trembling, he bent down and plucked the cornflowers right out of the field.

To Geralt they were different shades of grey, ranging from almost white to dark grey, but to anyone else, they would be blue. Like Jaskier’s eyes.

As much as Geralt had always told himself that it was a good thing that he wasn’t Jaskier’s soulmate, he now wished more than anything, that he would have gotten to see the colour of Jaskier’s. He didn’t need to see the world in colour. Knowing blue would have been enough.  Then he would have more than grey flowers to remind himself of Jaskier when he was gone.

“Jaskier.” His voice came out slightly hoarse and he had to clear his throat.

It was of no use. As soon as Jaskier turned around and laid eyes on the flowers Geralt held out to him, his throat tightened again.

At the same time, Jaskier’s eyes darted between the flowers and Geralt’s face, searching for something, looking almost achingly hopeful. Though for what, Geralt couldn’t tell. Perhaps Jaskier was for once silently pleading Geralt not to continue talking.

He did it anyway.

“Jaskier, I…these are for you.”

He took a step closer to Jaskier, half-expecting him to draw back. Instead Jaskier too came towards him with hesitant wonder in his eyes and took the flowers from Geralt’s hands. Their fingers brushed and the simple touch sent a jolt through Geralt. This would be the last time he would ever get to feel Jaskier’s skin against his.

“Geralt.” Jaskier sounded choked and there was a watery shine to his eyes that made Geralt’s chest tight and his now empty hands ball helplessly into fists. “Those are beautiful.”

“Like you,” Geralt said, before he had time to think and swallow the words. “Like your eyes. They – cornflowers. They look like your eyes.”

Jaskier stared at him for a long moment but he didn’t move. Geralt knew he had to say more, had to get Jaskier to turn tail and leave Geralt behind, but the words got stuck in his throat and burned like shards of glass cutting into him.

Still, as the moment dragged on, it seemed that Geralt didn’t need to say anything else. Jaskier let out a strangled sound, clearly supressing something else. Not for long, though. Not a heartbeat later, a laugh tumbled from Jaskier’s lips and once that first chuckle was out, he wouldn’t stop himself.

Ice pierced Geralt’s heart and he had to look away. For the first time he couldn’t bear to look at the way Jaskier’s face lit up as he laughed. He should have known. Jaskier was kind, but he was also expressive beyond believe. Geralt had no doubt that he would have tried to let him down gently, but it seemed that the idea of a witcher trying to be romantic was too ridiculous for even Jaskier to keep his composure.

“Oh, oh Geralt,” Jaskier said in between laughs, gasping for air and wiping away tears that had spilt free with his free hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh. You’re being very sweet, it’s just-“

“I know. You don’t need to say it. I know.” Geralt interrupted, suddenly desperate not to have Jaskier say it out loud. Seeing him leave was one thing. He could still pretend that it was no different than when they separated for the winter. But hearing Jaskier outright tell him that Geralt’s feelings were a joke to him – Geralt wouldn’t be able to bear it, to have these words join the ones of hatred and disdain that he remembered whenever he lay awake at night, kept awake by self-doubt and shame.  

“Oh, I don’t think you do,” Jaskier said and his smile didn’t falter, as if he wasn’t tearing Geralt’s heart out with it. “It’s just…Geralt, I know you can’t know this, but…my eyes are blue.”

“I do know.”

“Yes, well, but these flowers aren’t. They are lovely, of course, but this one for example is very clearly pink.” He tilted his head to the side like a bird as he looked at Geralt with mirth in his eyes. “You know, it’s almost the same colour your cheeks get sometimes when I sing about you.”

A painful spike shot through his heart. The flowers weren’t blue. The one thing he had known to do to try his hand at a romantic, albeit simple gesture and he had messed it up. Of course he wouldn’t be able to do even such a simple thing. Of course Jaskier would –

His thoughts came to a screeching halt and his eyes widened as the full meaning of Jaskier’s words came crashing down on him.

The flowers were pink. Jaskier knew, he saw, that they were pink.

“You can see colours.” He had meant for it to be a question, but it came out as a bitter truth.

Jaskier’s cheeks darkened. “I…yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out.”

“Why-how long?”

Jaskier swallowed nervously and his eyes darted away for a second, before finding Geralt’s again, pleading and scared. He clutched the flowers to his chest as if he feared Geralt would tear them off his hands.

“You know how long,” he said softly, almost apologetic. “Ever since I first saw you.”

“No.” Geralt shook his head. This wasn’t- this couldn’t be. He had expected Jaskier to flee from him, to tell him that he didn’t feel the same way. He had never expected him to be cruel. “No, you don’t – You can’t be. I can’t be.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology tumbled out of Jaskier’s mouth fast enough to slur the words together and his hand shot out to seize Geralt by the wrist. The touch burned him even through his clothes. “I know you don’t like Destiny. I never should have said… I don’t want you to force you into this. You must believe me.”

Geralt’s mind went blank. It almost sounded…he shouldn’t be foolish enough to believe this. He shouldn’t feel hope burning in his chest, but the way Jaskier said it….it didn’t sound as if he himself hated the idea of being soulmates with a witcher.

“You wanted me to choose you?” Geralt asked bewildered, still unable to comprehend.

Jaskier’s eyes softened and his smile turned into something bittersweet. “That was all I had ever wanted. I always thought you wouldn’t, but now…Please don’t take this back. Don’t tell me this isn’t what you chose, just because it’s the choice Destiny wanted you to make.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “I couldn’t care less what Destiny wants me to do.”

Jaskier’s face fell when Geralt pulled his wrist out of his grip. After a moment of hesitation, Geralt lifted his now free hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek.

Jaskier let out a soft gasp, before leaning into the touch with an unknown desperation.

“I choose you,” Geralt said, his fingers caressing Jaskier’s skin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jaskier said urgently. “I would choose you time and time again, whether Destiny wanted me to or not.”

Geralt’s throat went tight once more. “You know I can’t see colours. You know I won’t ever be able to compare your eyes to something and know it’s what they look like.” His gaze dropped to the flowers in Jaskier’s hand. “I can’t give you flowers the right colour.”

Jaskier let out a watery laugh. He turned his head and kissed the palm of Geralt’s hand, before taking one of the flowers – perhaps a pink one, perhaps one of a different colour entirely – out of the posy and tucked it behind Geralt’s ear.

“It doesn’t matter. The colour never mattered. They are beautiful. Because they come from you.”

“You are beautiful,” Geralt echoed. “Because you are you. Colour or no.”

His hand trailed down until he was gently holding his chin, titling his head up ever so slightly.

“Jaskier?” he asked, one last hesitation, one last chance for Jaskier to choose to take his words back.

Jaskier made his choice.

He leaned forward and pressed their lips into a soft kiss.

Geralt had always known that loving Jaskier was beautiful, but in this moment Geralt learned for the first time, that nothing, no flowers and no colours could ever be as beautiful as it was being loved by Jaskier.

[smileyoongle]

Falling for a lounge singer (Yandere!Mafia! BTS)// Kim Taehyung

Requested anonymously.

Summary: Working as a part time singer, you never thought you'd find yourself becoming the centre of attention of a man's life, especially one who you can't run from.

Word Count: 2.5K

The city was laid out brightly before you, cool wind making your hair stick to your glossy lips as you rested your elbows on the railing of the rooftop. Working for hours amidst people who were rich and liked to show off was stressful, especially when you knew you didn't fit in between them. If it wasn't for your voice, no one would even give you a second glance but there you were, attracting loud applauds every time you held the mic. It made you feel almost cocky but your conscience didn't allow it, reminding you of your place in this world time and time again.

With a soft sigh, you stared at the pretty sky, the stars scattered across it twinkling to grab your attention yet failing to do so. Because even though you loved the peace and quiet, your mind was restlessly loud tonight. Loud with thoughts about a man you had seen too many times, but never had the pleasure of meeting. A man who had sent you a single white freesia every night before disappearing without a word.

But tonight was different. Because he wasn't here. In fact, he hadn't been here for the last three days and if you were being honest, you missed him.

You missed his dark eyes that gazed at you with so much fervour that it made you dizzy. You missed how his attention made you feel like it was just the two of you in the room. You missed how he was so mysterious that you had convinced yourself to approach him. Yet, he managed to really slip away this time.

Glancing at the dried freesia in your hand, you traced it's dead petals, barely hanging on as the rest of it began to fall apart. This was the last one you had found near your vanity, not having seen another since he disappeared.

"Where did you go?" You mumbled, twirling the stem between your fingers, being as gentle as you could. There was no way for you to know if you'd ever see him again because every time you asked the staff about him, they just brushed you off by saying how some things were better left unknown. It made you wonder what was so bad about him that no one was willing to say a word.

"I'm right here, petal."

A deep voice stated from behind you, your heels quickly making you turn around to see who it was but the darkness and the distance between you two made it hard for you to tell. You frowned, watching the man's silhouette move closer to you, your fingers tightly holding onto your flower. And as soon as your eyes took in his face, your lips fell apart in a silent gasp.

There he was, looking at you with the same passion that his eyes held every time you saw him. You could feel your heart lose its rhythm, pounding erratically in your chest making you almost breathless. He was a lot more beautiful up close, your mind not having prepared you for seeing him here at all. Upon seeing you so speechless, he let out a low chuckle, one of his hands curled behind his back as his fitted black shirt hugged his biceps perfectly.

"Is this my punishment for having left you alone? You refuse to talk to me?" He asked, tilting his head to study your expression better. You remained silent, still processing the fact that the man you were so desperately looking for, was now standing so close to you. A part of you wanted to tell him that you could never be mad at him when he looked like an angel but your tongue stayed tied.

He hummed at your silence, taking another step towards, his eyes glancing at the dead flower that stayed intact between your fingers. Slowly, you felt his hand hold your wrist, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. Bringing it up, he took away the flower, throwing it somewhere to the side only to present another freesia before you, this one a striking red that made your heart skip a beat. You held onto its stalk as your mystery man placed it between your fingers, your cheeks growing warm at the way his eyes stayed fixated on your face.

“Red?” You asked, returning his gaze with an equally feverish one, his lips morphing into a smile upon hearing your voice.

“And she speaks.” He laughed lowly, his deep melody echoing in the silence of the night. Taking yet another step towards you, he placed his hands on the railing behind you, trapping you in close proximity. Your back rested firmly against the bars, your chest almost touching his.

“Yes, petal. Red. Do you know what it means?” He murmured, only loud enough for you to hear. Lost in his eyes, you didn’t notice the hand that was now tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips being the sole focus of the man’s attention. Resting his palm against your cheek, you found yourself leaning into his warmth, sighing at the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

“No,” you answered, closing your eyes when you saw him lean down until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. His long fingers brushed your hair away from your neck, your own hand clutching the flower tightly to calm your heart that was about to jump out of your chest.

“It symbolizes passion,” he whispered, his hands moving down to hold your waist and pull you flush against him. Speechless, you rested your hands on his chest, biting your lip as your forehead fell against his shoulder.

“Who are you?” You inquired, finally asking the question that had been gnawing at you ever since you saw him. A dead silence fell over the both of you all of a sudden, a frown etching onto your forehead as you were made to pull away from him a little. You found yourself missing his embrace, feeling as though you had known him for a long long time.

“You don’t know me,” he said, more like telling himself again rather than asking you. Gently shaking your head, you placed your gaze on his chest, a peek of white bandages catching your eye from beneath the few buttons that were left open at the top of his shirt. Without a thought, you moved it a little to the side, your eyes widening at the small red patch that stained the centre of the dressing, your lips parting in shock at the realisation that it was, indeed, blood.

“What happened?” You asked, worry and concern lacing your voice. He pursed his lips, his jaw clenching ever so lightly along with his hold on your waist which grew tighter. Wincing in pain, you looked at him in confusion, wondering if you had said something to upset him. And before you could ask him, he said something that perished all the warm feelings that had been brewing in your chest lately.

“My name is Kim Taehyung, Y/N. And I’ll be really mad if you decide to run away now.”

With eyes as wide as they could be, you stood frozen in his arms, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Fear consumed your entire being, your throat running dry at the very thought of being here with Kim Taehyung, the man who was responsible for the rise of one of the biggest cartels in the world. His hands were stained with the blood of god knows how many people, the wound on his chest suddenly making a lot of sense. Losing your grip on his shirt, you let your arms fall to your sides, unmoving and unable to process the situation anymore.

Suddenly, you were aware of his burning touch all over you, your mind screaming at you to get away from him. Yet you didn’t make a move, because you knew very well that you were almost nothing in front of a trained killer who could snap your neck in the blink of an eye. Parting your lips, you willed yourself to scream as loud as you could, failing yet again with his icy glare staring you down.

Gone were all the emotions you had witnessed in his eyes a few minutes ago, making you feel as if this was a whole new man that you had never met before. A tear ran down your cheek, your brain slowly hitting you with the mixed amount of emotions that were driving you insane. You were hurt, scared, disappointed in yourself and a lot more you couldn’t yet place a finger on.

“Y/N,” his voice brought you back to him, wary of the hand that was now wiping away your tears. Eyeing him cautiously, you tried to think fast, escaping him being the only agenda on your mind right now.

Taehyung knew what you were thinking, it didn't take a genius to know that all you wanted was to run away from him before things became a mess. But it was too late now, your innocence having left Taehyung mesmerized a long time ago. And now that you were so close to him, he was ready to do anything to make you stay.

"I don't wanna die," you said, your voice wavering with the dying confidence that burnt in you like a flickering flame. Being in his arms felt good, but knowing that those hands could also push you off the roof without anyone finding out was a thought that overcame everything else.

"And you won't, petal. Just because I'm a dangerous man, doesn't mean I would lay a finger on you," he answered, quickly catching onto the fact that you thought of him as a killer. It hurt him to know that you so easily forgot every other feeling you had been sheltering all this time, his identity crumbling down to nothing in your mind. But he would fix it.

He would fix you.

His words were enough to let you know that he wasn't planning on letting you leave, convincing you seemingly the only thing on his mind. At this point, violence seemed your only answer, your eyes once more taking in the sight of the bandaging on his chest.

"I'm sorry," you apologized beforehand, inhaling nervously at his confused expression before digging your nails into his chest. A growl left his mouth immediately, his hands letting go of your waist as you pushed him to the side with all your strength and bolted towards the door.

Taehyung fell to the floor behind you, his hand covering his shirt right where the wound was, the wetness of the blood seeping through his bandages. He hissed in pain, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the wall. The sound of your cries felt like music to his ears, your small fists banging on the door which had been locked the second Taehyung stepped onto the rooftop. It was funny of you to think that you could overpower Kim Taehyung so easily, your obliviousness once again showing through your stupid attempt to escape him.

Tears ran down your cheeks upon the realisation that you were stuck here with him, your heart pounding in your chest just like your hands against the door. You were a fool to think Taehyung wasn't fully prepared. Of course he had expected this from you. Of course he was one step ahead of you.

"Please, someone open the door!" You begged, sobbing with your forehead against the cold metal, slowly sinking to your knees. Just then, you heard his laugh, deeply resonating around you as you frowned in silence. It was endless, not the kind of laughter you'd hear after a joke but the kind you'd hear only with the intention of being mocked. He was laughing at you and your silly attempt of running away from him, knowing very well that Kim Taehyung did not let go of things that he so desperately craved. You being one of them.

"Did you think it was that easy, Y/N?" He asked, his voice dripping with amusement. Turning around to face him, you stared at him with teary eyes, watching his painful state with a heart full of regret. You weren't one to hurt people at all, let alone intentionally and yet you had taken such a drastic leap tonight. To save yourself. That was truly justified, wasn't it?

"Petal, even if you had managed to leave this place, I'll have you know that I'll always find you." He grinned maliciously, making you truly scared of him. Gritting his teeth, he stood up, your back pressing against the door as he slowly proceeded to stalk towards you, his gaze pinning you down and rendering you unable to move. You felt like a prey before him, his angry eyes telling you just how much you had pissed him off.

"I just wanna go home," you stated, frowning at him with wet cheeks and quivering lips. Halting right before you, Taehyung kneeled down, his hand coming to rest against your cheek.

"And we'll go, Y/N. We'll go to our home," he mumbled almost lovingly, his eyes glistening with so much affection that if you didn't know any better, you'd think he loved you. The truth of the situation though, was that Kim Taehyung was obsessed with you and there was no way you were going to let him take you.

"N-no, I wanna go to my home," you dared, Taehyung's jaw clenching upon hearing your words. Within a second, his fingers dug into both your cheeks, your lips pouting at the force with which he was holding your jaw in place. Leaning closer to you, Taehyung's nose brushed against yours, your own hand taking hold of his wrist to make him let go.

"What a shame it'd be to know that your little sister had to die because you couldn't make the right decisions."

Eyes widening, you let out a whimper at his threat, your breath having been knocked out for a second. It was as if the world had stopped around you, your heart wishing that this was all just a bad dream. The thought of anything happening to your sister was enough to break your will, especially since you were the only one she had. If she were to get hurt because of the one person who was supposed to protect her, then you couldn't even begin to imagine how meaningless your own life would become.

Taehyung loosened his grip on your jaw, watching you cry harder because of what he had said. It hurt him to know that you were crying because of him but he had to say it. Sure, you were hurt right now, maybe you even hated him but he knew that once you became his, you'd never have to see a bad day in your life. He would love you so hard that you'd never think about anyone else ever again. It was going to be just you and him. Forever.

"I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt her." You cried, sealing your fate with the devil with no chance of going back. Smiling fondly at you, Taehyung wiped your tears, the stench of blood hitting your nose only for you to see his crimson tainted hand grazing your cheek.

"I'll take very good care of you, petal. Don't you worry your little head," he cooed, your eyes staring at him with horror. You could feel the blood now staining your cheek, Taehyung's eyes adoring it with a hint of madness. His blood on your skin was like his name on a trophy, a sign of who it belonged to. And it gave Taehyung an immense amount of pleasure to see your innocence tainted with his filthy gore. The colour red was yours and Taehyung couldn't wait to paint you in it.

"We'll be drowning in love soon, just wait and watch."

A/N: Hiiii, see I am back again! I don't have much to say today cause I am really sad for some reason. You know, the kind of sad that makes you wanna just sit and cry all night? Yeah, it's THAT!

Anywayyyy! I'll probably be posting each member in a break of 4-5 days because I want each member to get their fill. Soooo, the next one comes in a while! Till then, have fun, guys. Ily<3

[ladyeliot]

Fragile [2/3]

Part One

Based on The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Who would have thought that fate would bring you face to face with your father's killer? 13 years old, an orphan girl who was taken under the protection of the United States, who was educated to serve the nation and who was now assigned by the CIA to guard what was once one of the most dangerous men in the world.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, psychological problems, violence.

Word count: 3981

A/N: Post Endgame. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

The city of sin is empty, and so are you. There is no one around you to judge you. The rhythm of their heartbeat seems to take over your body, it seems to lure you into the darkness, into which you have already entered. You have been alone for so long that you can barely remember when you felt a caress. The lights seem to blind you as they fall on your skin through the window panes, you can't see clearly where you're going, or what your next move is going to be, but there's something that grabs you, that compels you to kiss his skin. You look into his eyes, offering yourself, inviting him to love you. You look around you, drowning in the night, but there he is, the only person who can ignite you with a caress.

The Japanese restaurant across the street from your building was the place selected for the date that Bucky had worked so hard to set you up with, but after you saw him show up on your doorstep with the most charming bouquet of orange tulips you'd ever seen in your life you didn't care where he planned to take you. The place was quite popular in the neighbourhood, so that night most of the tables were packed with diners, a fact that seemed to make your companion uncomfortable as you walked into the establishment.

"Would you rather we went somewhere else?" you asked when you saw his gaze sweep over the place.

"No, it's fine," he stepped forward, heading to a free table that was quite far away from the others.

"You know, I don't remember ever having tasted Japanese food," you said, sitting down across from him. "I guess you'll have to walk me through this."

A complicity intensified as Bucky flashed a smile, lowering his gaze in response to the comment you had just made. Your eyes lit up, creating a visual conformity as he raised his countenance again and focused his eyes on you. It was at that precise moment that you discovered that beneath the blue mantle of his iris were small greyish flecks. You had arrived in this place almost three months ago, in this Brooklyn neighbourhood full of charming Asian culture, and you had never felt more at home than you did at that moment. You knew every detail of the life of the boy sitting in front of you, every detail that the government had wanted to give you, but you realised that you didn't really know anything about him at all.

It was a long two minutes in which you spent inspecting the person in front of you. He was wearing a black denim-style jacket, a black T-shirt that seemed to match the jeans you remembered he was wearing, and of course his black leather gloves, the ones you assumed he wouldn't take off all night. You rested your elbow on the table and dropped your chin into the palm of your hand without taking your eyes off his for a second. Bucky's jaw was slightly stiff, his lips were pursed waiting for you to say something and his expression was highlighted by a frown. You held it in for a few seconds until again your mouth curved up in a smile causing laughter to erupt from within you, causing a blush to rise up Bucky's cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked doubtful of the cause of your smirking laughter.

"Nothing," you said sincerely, shaking your face as your laughter died down and you took the menu of dishes in your hands. "What do you recommend?"

"I don't know," he said repeating your same gesture and hiding his face behind the paper.

"I thought you were a regular," you commented ignoring the variety of dishes and put the menu down so you could look at him again. "What about the nigiris?"

"The truth is that whenever I come here it's always Yori who decides what to eat," he commented pulling the paper away from his face leaving you to stare at his uneasy countenance again.

"Wow... do you think we should call him for dinner recommendations?" you whispered making Bucky blush again as he chuckled.

"I think we can manage," he commented looking back at the list of dishes.

But really your attempt to make a varied selection of Japanese cuisine was in vain when the young waitress approached you both and you decided on a random selection based on the most curious names you had found, so that after she left you were once again alone in front of each other. You noticed that in those long weeks that you had unexpectedly coincided Bucky had never made a comment about his past, it was obvious that he took it for granted that you knew who he was, everyone seemed to know who he was.

"Can I be frank with you?" you asked, playing with the small vase in the middle of the table.

"Please," he replied, giving way to your question.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you seem nervous enough to have dated girls before, you know," you commented in a delicate tone avoiding scaring him away. "Is this your first date in... this long?"

Bucky's nostrils flared as he averted his gaze to the side and took a breath.

"Well... yeah, you could say that," he replied turning his focus back to you as his fingers played. "I've been trying... God, what's the name of the app?"

"Tinder?" you suggested arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, that," he nodded as his eyes widened in surprise. "It's crazy, that's not meant for me, it's like how am I going to find someone there? I don't know."

"I know," you laughed at his facial expression. "I tried it once, but I had a bad experience."

"What happened?" you inquired curiously as the waitress brought the first dishes to share along with the two beers you had ordered.

"I was supposed to meet a blond guy, curly hair, strong build, light eyes, about thirty or thirty-five, supposed to be British," you began as you took a sip of your beer. "All right, I was in the bar waiting for him to arrive, obviously we were meeting in a public place, we said to wear specific clothes so we could easily recognise each other, although I thought it was a bit absurd as I had seen pictures of him. By the time a completely different guy from the description I just gave you stood next to me, wearing a red tie and introducing himself as Matthew, I picked up and left."

"Are you sure that app is legal?" he asked when you finished telling the story.

"Sometimes I ask myself the same question too."

The atmosphere seemed to envelop you over the course of the dinner, Bucky tilting his face whenever you recounted any of your experiences, which were yours, not the character you had created to conduct your research. The comfort was so pleasant inside you that you even felt guilty on several occasions that he didn't know who you really were, a CIA agent sent to keep him under control. Even though it would have the worst consequences for you, for your career and you could never be willing to throw it all away, at least you had never been willing or thought about it until now. Although it had also been a long time since you'd felt like this.

"So...?" you arched your eyebrows with a lopsided smile, waiting for his honest answer.

"A hundred and six," he replied finishing his second beer.

"And I was complaining about the guy who showed me up on that Tinder date, because he was fifty-three," Bucky ducked his gaze somewhat nervously, as you shrugged. "You really are a fascinating guy, Bucky Barnes."

Those words were the most sincere thing you'd said since the night began, plus they brought with them a fresh batch of knowing glances between the two of you, where seconds ticked by, no one said anything and the din of laughter and surrounding conversations seemed to subside above you. You discovered that you weren't curious to find out if everything in those documents was true or not, if he really was the monster they were trying to make you believe. What really mattered to you and why you were curious about him, you wanted to find out for yourself who he really was, his experiences, his future plans, if he was lost, if he was afraid, you didn't want answers to the morbid questions they used to ask him, you wanted to know Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier.

That was the first time you had ever been on a date, with all its letters, rarely had you reached dessert before you had slept with the guy in front of you, rarely had you felt so comfortable chatting with someone, rarely had you laughed so much and stayed until the place closed.

"You're in the 21st century, do you know that women can pay for dinner and we can buy if we want to?" you said approaching the bar and taking your wallet out of your purse.

"Please," he determined almost in a plea as he pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers.

"All right," you raised your arms, heading for the exit door. "I'll pay for the drinks.

As you stepped outside you could feel Bucky's eyes on you through the glass of the restaurant as he was waiting for the extra money/change. It was a pretty cold night in March, but no one really seemed to care because it seemed like everyone had gone outside to enjoy the Saturday night. You heard behind you the tinkling of a little bell and Bucky was perched next to you, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Well, where..." you started to say before a voice cut you off.

A whistling sound coming from somewhere near you tried to get your attention, but it wasn't until you looked up that you saw a tiny face peering through a window on the first floor of your building.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, tapping Bucky's chest and pointing at Yori who was waving at you.

"Oh gosh..." commented Bucky raising his hand in greeting.

"How was the date?" your neighbour asked raising his tone so he could reach you.

"Great Yori!" you exclaimed trying to let him hear you from the first floor of your building. "Bucky is such a gentleman! They don't have men like that these days!"

You didn't see it, but your companion had no idea where to put himself at that moment, his hand on the back of his neck and his uncomfortable glances around as he blushed gave him away. You raised your arm to wave goodbye to Yori who was saying goodbye as he said something, but it barely reached your ears. Bucky simply nodded showing an awkward smile on his face.

"Come on," you laughed tugging on the lapel of Bucky's jacket causing him to start walking aimlessly.

"Where are we going?" he asked walking beside you.

"I don't know," you shrugged without stopping walking. "I'll remind you that I'm just a tourist, I've been in New York for three months and I've barely left the neighbourhood. But I think you know it a lot better than I do," you bumped his body with yours in a friendly way.

"I don't agree. You may be a tourist in New York, but I'm a tourist in the 21st century world," he commented, hitting you back with his elbow.

"In that case... let's discover New York together," you smiled, and he smiled back, letting you know that he was enjoying the evening as much as you were.

"There," your companion raised his chin, gesturing slightly towards the narrow building looming above you.

"There?" you asked, arching your eyebrows in surprise at what he was telling you.

"Fourth floor," he continued speaking without looking at you, resting his eyes on the place he was describing. "It was a tiny flat, I could get from the kitchen to the bedroom by just jumping up and down. If I opened the window at night, the smell of mozzarella from Nicollini's came in. It was an Italian restaurant," he paused thoughtfully, perhaps wistfully. "Wow... I didn't come here until now."

You stood parallel to Bucky, his eyes seemed to appear brighter than usual, the light from the streetlight allowing you to take in every feature of his face. You were silent for a couple of minutes while he seemed to be distant from the place, obscured in his thoughts, in his past. The time you had spent with him had not allowed you to see him like this at any time, he used to keep his emotions very much in check, not allowing anyone to glimpse them, only letting you see the shame or confusion when he spoke to you.

"So... when was the last time you were here?" your volume was soft, trying not to interrupt him too much, but upon hearing your voice, he fell into your presence and began to pace.

"Maybe... in 1943, just before I left for Europe," he cleared his throat, undoing the knot that had formed in his throat.

It was in that precious moment that you realised how hard and complex his situation must really be. Bucky Barnes was all alone in the world, all his knowledge of his old present was of little use to him now, it might be the city where he grew up but nothing was the same anymore. He also had to live with his legacy, the legacy HYDRA left him. Silence flooded around you, however, it was not a complicit silence, it was an uncomfortable silence, caused by the situation you had just lived.

"My father died when I was thirteen," you didn't know why, but that confession came from inside you, Bucky turned his face and focused his attention on you. "My mother had abandoned us when I was five, so when my father died I was all alone."

"I'm sorry," Bucky whispered making you realise he was really sorry when you looked at his face.

"It happens," you shrugged. "I guess that makes us feel luckier when we find someone we connect with."

That was the first time you looked away blushing as you met Bucky's smile, but he kept his eyes fixed on you. The two of you had made your way to an aimless spot, letting the night fall on you by the riverbank.

"Answer me something, when was the last time you enjoyed the New York night?" you said looking at him, as behind him you could see a wonderful view of the island of Manhattan.

"New York night..." he said looking down thoughtfully. "Well, I remember the last night I spent in New York, my best friend Steve and I went to see The Stark exhibit along with two girls," he turned his gaze to the horizon, "Connie and Bonnie, I think their names were."

"Your girlfriends?" you asked curiously delving into the story.

"Not exactly," he laughed looking at you, "it was like a double date, but they weren't our partners. Those times were more complicated, you know," you nodded and waited silently for him to continue the story. "I had planned for the four of us to go dancing, but Steve was not very receptive, he had other things on his mind, so I ended up going dancing with the two of them by myself.

"Wow, what do you know..." you arched an eyebrow causing Bucky to blush with laughter, gazing at the lights coming from Manhattan. "That means you're quite the expert dancer."

"Not exactly, I mean, maybe in... in the past, it's possible, but..." he didn't know how to express himself, his words were hindering him.

"Show me," you interrupted taking him by surprise.

"Uh?" he asked stopping his steps and frowning.

"Come on, it's time for me to be the one to get out of your time. I have no idea how to dance..." you pointed out, making him understand that you didn't know how to dance in a couple. "Please."

Your companion took a breath as you presented him with the palm of your hand inviting him to take it right in the middle of a small riverside park. Bucky was hesitant but your lower lip bitten by your teeth and your pleading eyes made him definitely decide to hold your hand and accept the challenge. The triumph was depicted on your face, which made it easy for Bucky to oblige by flashing you a smile.

"You're really testing me tonight," he murmured, slowly approaching you.

You first felt the roughness of his leather gloves as his left hand took yours to mark a closer position. Your bodies were close, too close, you could hear his raised breathing and see the mist of your breath connecting. Bucky gently placed his hand on your waist, but nothing else happened, you looked at each other, with a very uncomfortable smile.

"This is weird," he muttered, wrinkling the expression on his face.

"Why?" you looked around you, it was lonely. "There's no one."

"I know," he looked up. "There's no one, there's no music."

"Sing," you said quickly with a laugh, making Bucky laugh too as he shook his head. "I would, but I don't know any songs of the time."

"I don't plan to sing," he decreed without barely moving an inch away from you.

"Then use your imagination," you whispered lowering your gaze for a second, meeting his neck at eye level.

As if time had rushed backwards you were caught in a completely different place, the yellowish light of the street lamps above you and behind you a Manhattan skyline set the perfect mood for the moment. The hand that was perched on your waist began to subtly exert pressure, guiding you to imitate the movement of his feet that he had begun. Embarrassed by your clumsiness you quickly lowered your gaze to his feet to try to imitate what he was doing more accurately.

"Look at me, don't look at my feet," he sentenced with a small laugh. "Look at my eyes."

And you did, so much so that you did, letting yourself be enveloped by their blue, making you blush because of the proximity to them. It was strange, perhaps it was much stranger to you than it was to him, as you bit your lower lip hard trying to escape the awkwardness and embarrassment. How could a moment that could look completely ridiculous from the outside feel so intimate on the inside?

"When was the last time you danced with a girl?" you whispered, trying to keep the situation not too intimate.

"I think it was in London," he replied without stopping his movements. "When I was on leave."

But as he finished his answer you again found yourself under those piercing blue eyes trying to maintain eye contact with you. Again you caught your lower lip between your teeth, thinking of a new question to ask him. Bucky had taken control of the situation, something you weren't used to, and that made you feel alert, he knew it, for the first time he seemed to be in control of the situation, and that was your fault, you had given it to him when you said to teach you to dance.

"Are you alright?" he whispered in front of you with a half smile to which you nodded forcing a smile.

Just as you finished your nod you felt Bucky press harder against your waist and pressed his body against yours leaving your forehead pressed against his cheek. His scent wafted into your nostrils, drifting into your brain, projecting a pleasure that made you close your eyes and let yourself be completely carried away. You accepted that you wouldn't last an hour in the 40s in a dance hall, the second you'd fall at the feet of any young man like Bucky. You didn't know if it was your imagination, because right now you had entered an alternate universe, or if Bucky was humming some tune, but you heard it, you heard how your subtle movements had music.

"And..." you parted your lips, pulling your forehead away from his cheek, trying to formulate a question that didn't come because you felt the melody stop, realising that it was Bucky who was asking it.

His face with a sweet smile on it paralysed you, making you come out of the bubble that had been created around you, feeling guilty for the situation that you yourself had provoked. What the hell were you doing? He was your mission, everything was getting out of context, it had gotten completely out of hand and you needed to stop it as soon as possible. You shook your face, trying not to be too rude to him, and you broke the proximity between the two of you. Bucky didn't understand what had happened, because within a second the happiness was wiped from his face, showing some concern for your actions.

"I'm sorry," he said, raising his hands subtly by way of caution. "If I've done anything inappropriate..."

"No!" you exclaimed shaking your head smiling at his apology. "It's just... I think we should get back, we still have a long way to go and I wanted to get up early tomorrow."

"Of course," the disappointment you saw on Bucky's face almost broke your soul.

The walk home was too stealthy, and that made you uneasy. You couldn't stop replaying over and over the moment in your mind, the feel of his hand on your waist, the proximity to his body, your scent, and the warmth of your forehead against his cheek. It was torture, because on the other hand you felt extremely guilty for violating all the clauses of your job by entering into this kind of relationship with Bucky. It was suffocating, you felt almost breathless inside. Firstly, you should have started by refusing the proposal to go out for dinner, and secondly, if you did go out for dinner, you should have gone straight home, no dancing and no further conversation. In the midst of all these thoughts, you arrived home.

"Please," he said, offering you first the way into the building.

"Thank you," you mumbled without looking at him.

The walk to the third floor began, you had never realised that there were so many steps and so steep until you reached the door of your house, it seemed like a climb up Mount Everest and the worst thing was that Bucky lived right in front of you, on the same landing. You amused yourself rummaging through your purse for your house keys, avoiding having a conversation until you arrived right in front of the door.

"Well..." you started to say by way of an awkward goodbye.

"Again, if I've done anything to upset you..." Bucky repeated again with a gesture of concern.

"Really, Bucky, it's been... great," you concluded, smiling kindly at him. "I promise."

"All right," he ducked his face, not entirely convinced by your answer. "So, good night Susan."

"G-good night Bucky."

Susan? Of course, that was you to him, all a lie.

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[writesowhatnext]

it’s so mysterious to me // george weasley

Summary: life’s a little different when your girlfriend can see the future, isn’t it george?

Request: hi! can i request seer!reader x fred/george? where she sees their futures (weasley's wizard wheezes, yule ball and knows hermione will end up with ron *wink*) but doesn't tell them anything bc changing the future is complicates? but always hints at significant points of their lives. sorry if this is very long 😭

A/N: I cut out part of the request that’s a spoiler :) also it took me like 20 minutes to spell entrepreneurial

Reader: female, seer

Warnings: accidents, death, injury, guilt, parental death, battle of hogwarts

Not knowing the future is hard. Knowing the future? Harder. You hadn’t been alive nearly long enough before you learnt that lesson. The most difficult thing about being a Seer, you see, was not actually seeing the future, but fighting the urge to change it; something you’d learnt the hard way.

When you were about eight years, four months and thirteen days old, you had a vision of your mum falling down the stairs on a Remembrall and like any good daughter, you moved it from the landing and into a box on a high shelf in your Father’s study. You’d felt good the whole day, proud even, to have helped your mother. That happiness didn’t last long, though.

When your Mother’s loud shrieking echoed through the house, and she screamed at you to call an ambulance, that something had hit your Father in the head, you realised that maybe some things couldn’t be changed. The day your dad died you got the world’s biggest reality check; the future, whilst it was yours to see, was not yours to play with. It was a cruel mistress and as you grew up, you realised more and more how complicated it could truly be.

Sometimes, you got a feel for a person; an essence of what they would become somewhere down the line. Mostly, it was just silly things. When you first met Ron, the only thing you saw was him snogging Hermione; a bunch of strange teeth cluttered at their feet. An odd one, it must be said, but you thought it was sweet nonetheless. The first time you met George, though, was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

There you sat, only eleven years old on a magical train to a faraway place where you knew nobody, not exactly filled with confidence. You’d be hard-pressed to say it helped when two young boys with red hair and the same face barrelled into your otherwise empty compartment. They slammed the door shut behind them and ducked to avoid the window, sniggering to each other, obviously unaware of your presence.

You frowned as a few older students raced past, one with red hair looking at you sharply before disappearing down the corridor, leaving you alone with the twins before you. They still hadn’t noticed you and so, with a glance out the window at the country landscape, you cleared your throat.

“Oi, George,” one said, pointing at you and nudging his brother. You offered them a weak smile as they stared at you before one shot out his hand in greeting. He was smiling, rather mischievously, and was still crouching on the floor to avoid anyone spotting him.

“The name’s George,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

And when you took his hand, his palm against yours, you saw a whole life ahead of you. Laughter, dancing, countless nights running away with adrenaline-filled grins. He looked more what your Mum would call handsome the older he got, you thought. It seemed like you’d kiss him a fair few times as well, a fact that didn’t thrill you given the fact that boys had cooties, and all.

You stared at him as you pulled your hand away, looking into his expectant brown eyes with a fair amount on trepidation before a smile lifted your cheeks.

“Y/N,” you said softly. “I think we could be good friends.”

After the train, you, George and Fred, as you learnt the other twin’s name was, became fast friends. It was hard, undoubtedly, to be normal around George sometimes; the more time you spent with him, the faster you realised that he was the love of your life and the worse it became to not do anything about it. Somehow, though, life seemed to do it for you and you spent your nights exactly how you’d imagined: racing down corridors away from the scene of the crime with breathless laughter on your lips and George’s hand in your own. By third year, the kissing had started and Fred, despite being rather fond of you, was not a fan. He groaned like a child constantly, but you could see that he was secretly pleased for his brother deep down.

On one cold night in October, you and George were sat in the windowsill of the Gryffindor common room watching the sky dance with stars.

“Hey, George,” you said quietly, your voice wavering slightly as you leant your head back into his chest and his arm circled around your waist.

“Hey, Y/N,” he replied, teasing.

“Do you know what a Seer is?”

“Don’t know about a seer, love, but I know you’re quite the looker.”

You could hear the grin in his voice as you rolled your eyes, pushing your elbow lightly into his ribs.

“I’m serious, Georgie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, running his hand up and down your arm, placing a kiss into your hair. “Like in Divination, the world’s greatest and most riveting subject.”

You scoffed at his sarcastic tone, pursing your lips.

“I’m a seer.”

The air was still for a moment. His silence gave you enough time to thoroughly regret your decision to tell him, not quite sure what would happen. Gently, he turned you to the side so he could see your face and for a moment, you were struck by the softness of his eyes.

“Are you telling me you can see the future?”

You paused for a second, debating whether it was a good idea to just lie to him. Against your better judgement, you nodded, swallowing.

“You’re having me on,” he shook his head, smiling until he noticed your serious expression. “You can really see the future? Like who wins a Quidditch match or whether someone is gonna fail a test or-“

You nodded and his jaw dropped open, his mouth wide.

“It’s complicated,” you began, sighing slightly. “I can’t just… I can’t just change things. And some things make no sense until they’re happening and-“

“How do you manage to always be the coolest person I know?”

Your mouth grew dry at his words, a small smile playing on your lips as he stared at you, his hand lifting to push your hair away from your face.

“It’s a talent,” you said brightly, settling back into his chest, enjoying the way it vibrated at your joke.

“Have you ever changed anything?”

His face hardened at your shaky inhale and he opened his mouth to take back his question when you answered it anyway.

“A couple times,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his. You let the thought of your Dad weigh on you for a second before you huffed.

“I was supposed to fall for Fred, actually,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I thought ‘Nah’, though.”

“You’re kidding,” George said, his arm tightening around your waist and his voice slightly hesitant as if he wasn’t exactly sure.

“Perhaps.”

You hadn’t meant to tell Fred at all, especially not hours before the Quidditch World Cup, but you and George had been joking and then one thing lead to another and now you were sat down on George’s bed with the twins looming over you like parents scolding a child.

“No,” you said.

“Why not?” Fred huffed, throwing his arms in the air, not at all understanding why you wouldn’t tell him who would win the match.

“No, Fred.”

“But, why not?” he whined, pouting with his hands on his hips. You stood up, rolling your eyes at his childishness.

“Because the future is dangerous and changing it is complicated and if I tell you something, it’ll change the whole future and-“

Out the corner of your eyes, you saw George mouthing along to your words, earning a scowl at his memorisation of your well-practised speech. He tilted his head at being caught, pulling you into his side. You shot him an irritated look only to have him wipe it from your face with a kiss.

“Disgusting,” Fred huffed, moving towards the door. “You pair make me sick, as does your lack of team spirit, Y/N.”

You did break your own rules sometimes, though. Only for special causes, you told yourself. You couldn’t help but think of what you’d seen about Ron and Hermione as they side-stepped around each other the closer it got to the Yule Ball. So, as you sat there in the common room, your shoulder against George’s chest as he picked at your sleeve distractedly, you listened to Harry and Ron complain about not having dates.

“You could always take Hermione,” you suggested, trying very hard to keep your voice indifferent.

“Gross,” Ron huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not that desperate.”

You rolled your eyes, exhaling from your nose as they returned to their pity party. A finger poked at your side and you looked at George with a frown.

His eyes were suspicious as he smirked at you.

“You know, you get this look in your eye sometimes,” he said quietly so nobody else would hear. “When you know something everyone else doesn’t.”

You pursed your lips, not willing to give yourself away anymore. You turned away from him, stiffening when his hot breath fanned your ear.

“I’m on to you, love,” he whispered, sending a shiver up your back.

You tried to keep certain things on the down-low around George after that; subtlety, as ever, was the name of the game. You gave up trying to push Ron and Hermione together after a while, knowing that your meddling would only make it worse. What you didn’t give up on, though, was Fred and George. You didn’t have to be a seer to know that they would go far with their business; they were smart wizards and despite the headache they often caused Professor McGonagall, you couldn’t fault their entrepreneurial spirit. And though you expected it when they came to you in seventh year talking about leaving Hogwarts, given the fact that you’d tried to discretely push them towards the idea, you were sad to see the back of your two favourite boys.

“You should go out in a blaze of glory,” you said, staring at the floor to not give yourself away. “Fireworks and stuff.”

You’d been seeing bursts of colour for weeks at the thought of it.

“Y/N, that might be the most brilliant idea I have ever heard,” Fred said, shooting you a grin.

“Isn’t it just?” George agreed though he was staring at you with a very knowing look.

He could tell how much the war took its toll on you. He had no idea what it was you were seeing, but his heart ached at how much you were suffering because of it. It was obvious that the guilt of not being able to help was eating you alive and it wasn’t until the night after the Battle of the Astronomy Tower that you truly broke down. When you arrived at his apartment, Fred asleep in the room next door, his heart shattered at the sight of you shivering from the rain and crying so horribly that he thought you would pass out right there.

“George,” you said, gripping on to him like you’d never see him again. “I knew about Bill. I knew he was going to get attacked and I knew the pain he was-“

He shushed you gently, his hand stroking the back of your head.

“I knew, George,” you repeated over and over, your body wracking with sobs.

He thought about his older brother in the hospital and his hold on you tightened.

He didn’t need to see the future to know when the crescendo of the war was coming. It seemed as everything was leading up to this final stand at Hogwarts and though he was scared, it was nothing compared to how worried he was for you. After he lost his ear, you grew more and more unhinged. You never talked to him about it and he knew why, he understood that changing the future would have seriously unpredictable repercussions and he knew that you were haunted by every injury, every death that you didn’t prevent. The most he could do for you was be there and he spent most nights next to you just holding you close as you cried yourself to sleep. He thought they were the worst nights of his life at the time.

“George,” you whispered into the night, too afraid of the morning to look outside and see the sunrise.

“Yes, love?”

His arm pulled you closer and you were grateful for his warmth.

“You know I love you, right?”

A lump formed in George’s throat.

“Of course, I do,” he whispered reluctantly, not ready to hear your answer. “Why?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

He turned to face you, your eyes shining with tears in the moonlight. He could tell you were lying; he recognised your knowing look.

“I love you too. More than anything else in the entire universe,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead and breathing in your scent. His stomach turned at the memory of the look in your eyes and for the rest of the night, he lay awake, staring at the pattern on the ceiling.

When you reached Hogwarts that next day, everybody was running. Younger students were being ushered to the basements and the elder kids were rushing around with their wands out and enchanted statues were marching out to defend the castle and amidst the chaos, your heart was like lead as you thought about what was to come. George’s hand was heavy in yours and your lie was heavy on your shoulders. You wondered if he’d ever forgive you, either way.

You’d never felt sicker than when Percy arrived. His apology was sweet and you were somewhat relieved to see the Weasleys together again despite the circumstances. It felt like you’d come full circle when Percy’s eyes settled on you, much less sharp than they had been on the train that very first day and you barely listened when Kingsley Shacklebolt divided you into groups; you already knew what your role was. George tugged on your hand.

“What is happening?” he asked, his voice begging you to tell him as his hands rested on your cheeks. You swallowed back a lump in your throat as Colin Creevey caught your eye, his young frame sneaking away from the other students that were too young to fight.

“George, I can’t tell you that,” you said, your eyes lingering on Tonks for a moment.

“Y/N, please,” George whispered. You turned to him when his voice broke and all the sight in the world couldn’t prepare you for the tears running down his face, the redness of his eyes.

“There’s so much pain here,” you said, oddly calm for the first time as you stared at him. You brushed his hair from his forehead with a soft smile and what was left of his heart broke a little more at the look in your eyes.

“Y/N-“ he began, trying desperately to find the words. He could tell that you knew too much at that moment, your young face wise beyond your years.

“I would give you the whole world if I could, Georgie,” you promised, grinning. Your insides scrambled as his shoulders rocked a little, a cry escaping him, but you felt surprisingly light. You looked to the side conspiratorially before learning up to him, his hands on your cheeks dropping as you whispered in his ear.

“We win.”

He frowned, but before he could say anything else, you kissed him hard and he fought the urge to trap you in his arms and not let you go.

“I’ve gotta go help Freddie,” you nodded, shooting him a wink. Your eyes lingered on his face for a moment, his beautiful, broken, handsome face, before you chuckled and shook your head, already walking backwards away from him.

“Your life is exceptional, George.”

He reached for you, but you had already disappeared and he was already being ushered away by Bill, who insisted that he get a move on. He couldn’t shake the thought that you were saying goodbye.

He’d been pacing the Great Hall for the best part of three minutes when he saw his mum. Voldemort had announced the armistice barely five minutes ago and already the dead and injured were being carried in. He played with his wand between his fingers when he thought of his family, not yet returned, and he pulled at the hair on his hair when he thought about you, also missing in action.

“Mum,” he huffed, running over to her and hugging her almost as tightly as she hugged him. “I’m fine, Mum,” he said, grabbing her wrists. “Have you seen Y/N? Fred? Ginny?”

“I’m here,” Ginny said warily, walking over to them along with Arthur and Bill, who each got bone-crushing hugs from Molly. They could tell George was getting antsy after ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of you. Charlie arrived almost uninjured, apart from a scratch down his arm, stopping short at the bodies of Remus and Tonks. George felt bad that he hadn’t noticed them yet, but his guilt was replaced with hope when he saw Percy come in.

He raced towards him, pushing past nurses and the other injured people to meet his brother, who he wasn’t completely sure he even liked until that moment.

“Perc,” he said with his hands hard on Percy’s shoulders. “Are you okay? Where’s Fred? Where’s Y/N?”

“George…” Percy said gently, his hand gripping George’s wrist tightly. He frowned.

“What?”

He felt sick.

“We were fighting-“

“No,” George exhaled, his eyes halting over Percy’s shoulder as Fred walked into the Hall with you in his arms.

He could barely breathe as he yanked his wrist from Percy’s grasp and ran over. Fred’s red, tear-stained face covered in the same dirt that covered you sent a sharp pain through his chest.

“No, no, no.”

George grabbed the back of his brother’s neck when he saw him, pulling lightly at the hairs on his nape. His eyes weren’t on Fred, though.

You looked cold, he thought, and heavy in Fred’s arms. Deadweight. George looked at Fred, a strangled sob ripping from his throat as his other hand fell to your face, rubbing at the icy skin of your cheek.

“No,” he whispered. “She’s fine- she’s fine. She’s not- she’s fine. She’ll wake up.”

“Georgie-“ Fred said, his voice weak as he watched his brother. Right there, in the middle of the hall, George sank to the floor, his hand sliding from Fred’s neck as he pulled at you, desperate to have you close to him. Gently, with a sigh, Fred lowered your body down, placing you into George’s arms as he sat there on his knees.

Molly’s sob rang out through the stone walls as George pressed you to his neck, his hand at the back of your head as his chest heaved. You weren’t hugging him back. Your hand dragged on the dirty floor.

Fred’s guilt gnawed at his gut as his family walked over, hugging him and placing their hands on George’s bucking shoulders in an attempt at comfort. It didn’t work.

“It’s my fault,” Fred said to Ginny as she hugged him, her cheeks wet as she ran her hands through his hair. He didn’t look at her, he just stared at George.

“It wasn’t-“

“She pushed me out of the way.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, the background noise of people milling around more than overwhelming.

“She knew,” George whispered, pulling away from you and placing your lifeless hands into your lap, his fingers trying desperately to rub the dirt from your face. He just wanted to see you smile. He just needed to see that smile. “She knew, Fred. She knew what she was doing.”

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[hotchley]

lauren: aaron and emily

Yeah so for something that is meant to be a conversation, there’s a surprising lack of her speaking but honestly, this was so much fun to write. I forgot how angsty Hotchniss could be like DAMN

This is my take on what happened at her bedside before they moved her, and is dedicated to everyone who said they would read it because without you guys, I probably wouldn’t have actually written it so thank you so much!

Trigger Warnings: serious medical injuries, references to abortion, implied/referenced child abuse, religious themes

read on ao3!

“You could’ve told me,” he tells her, even though she can’t hear him. Her eyes are closed. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of her chest- so faint it almost isn’t there- he would believe she was dead.

And in some ways, she is. 

To the team, Emily Prentiss is gone. Just another victim of a dangerous serial killer with a vendetta. To the children that love her- Jack, Henry, even Carrie, who she still spoke to once a week- she will be in heaven. With Haley. To Aaron and Jennifer, she will be hiding. Alone and weak but safe.

Safe. He wants to laugh at that. How can she be safe when everyone she loved is being torn from her? When Ian Doyle is still alive? 

He doesn't want to be the one to tell her she was dead. He doesn't want to be the one to tell her that she had to go to Paris- the one place that had never been touched by the bloody hands of murder and pain- until they found Doyle. If they ever do find him. He doesn't want to let her go.

He wants to bury his head in her hair, inhaling the familiar smell of her shampoo that had always felt like the safety he craved but could never hold onto and pretend the sea wasn't pulling him under, cutting off his breathing as he struggled to stay afloat. He wants to hold her, hearing the steady and strong beat of her heart that reminds him of the reason for doing all of this. He wants to feel her hands- so warm and soft- against his stomach as she draws on his ribs so he can look in the mirror and see her, not George Foyet.

He wants so much. But there is a reason he is the Unit Chief. There is a reason he is in the room with her whilst JJ comforts a crying Reid. There is a reason that when the team thinks of Mom, they think of him. Not Rossi. Certainly not Gideon.

He does the difficult jobs. He does the things that need to be done but nobody else wants to. He cleans the blood off walls and stands guard at hospital beds. He pulls them away from dead bodies and witnesses their anger and sadness. He takes their insults and cradles them when they cry. He pretends he isn't human so they can believe they didn't hurt him. 

He does the difficult jobs because he brought all of them into a life of loss and pain, and in his opinion, it is a small price to pay. It is less than what he deserves to do. It isn't enough to make up for everything he has caused them to see but it is a start.

When Emily leaves- and JJ will go to Paris with her, no matter how much she may say he should go instead- he will carry out their grief assessments. He will let them look at him with pain and hurt and anger and sadness and ask him what the point is. As they ask him why they are alive. 

And then he will run. Because they will find Ian Doyle, and when they do, Emily Prentiss will return. They will hate him, and he will be a coward. He will take a job elsewhere and let them repair their lives, rebuild their home, without him.

But until that day comes, he will sit by Emily's bed, holding her hand, limp and cold, and pray for her to wake up. He hasn't prayed since he was a child. And even then, he didn't really believe in God. But desperate people will do anything. And although he was calm and collected before the committee that decided Emily's fate, he is desperate for her to just wake up.

So he will atone for his sins and take whatever punishment is deemed appropriate. He will let her go and never inhale her perfume again, if only so she is able to open her eyes.

"You could've told me," he repeats, thinking about the last woman he said those words too. But that had been different. JJ wasn't Emily. "I could've helped you. You could've trusted me with this. And I know it isn't about me. It's about you. But I'm selfish, Emily Prentiss. I'm selfish and I don't want to let you go but I have to."

He doesn't know how to. He doesn't know what he's meant to say when she wakes up and only sees him. JJ had looked at him when she said Emily never made it off the table. It was a single glance, but he'd understood. He had walked away from the team. Refused to let his tears fall.

And then he had looked the committee in the eye and told them he had no emotional attachment to her case. He had lied. And Emily had, in their words, been saved. He didn't believe it was saving her. He believed it was keeping her alive so one day, she could come home and live a better life. 

The woman on that bed is not his Emily. It is not the Emily he loves, or the Emily that told him he wasn't alone. It's not the Emily that dances around the kitchen with Jack, or the Emily that refuses to flinch when he has nightmares. The Emily that never walked away from him until that one fateful day.

He should have known something was wrong then. And if not then, when she was late twice in the same week. But he had been so blinded by his own hurt and anger and betrayal that he refused to comment. Secretly, vindictively, he had hoped that her lateness was being caused by her own pain. That she was trying to avoid him. 

Now he realises that he was right. She was trying to avoid him. Because he knew her. And if she saw him properly, she would crack. And in the same way he had been determined to find Foyet alone, without anyone else going down with him, she had been determined to find Doyle alone.

But Foyet had still killed Haley. And Doyle had technically killed her. In some ways, he had killed the team too. He didn't know how to bring up Spencer's migraines with him, but Emily had been his confidant. What was going to happen now? How is Derek supposed to move past being told to let her go? 

The doctors had told him to get some rest and to go home, but he can't. Jack is still with Jessica, and his apartment is still littered with scraps of her. He hadn't moved anything after that night. He had thought it was strange when she didn't ask for any of it. Now he knows why. She had bigger things going on.

He told Clyde Easter that it would be his fault if something happened to her. Because he needed someone else to blame. He needed to believe that he was a good man that had done what he could. But he hadn't. Rational thought told him that just like with everyone else, he couldn't force her to tell him the truth or accept his help.

The part of him that was still helplessly in love with her told him that he could have. Should have. But he hadn't. So now he was sitting there, watching the heart monitor, convincing himself she was alive. Bracing himself for the moment she woke up.

He still doesn't know what he's meant to say.

"I was so angry at you then. After everything we had gone through, I didn't understand why you were just so willing to throw it all away. You had told me you would never leave, and you just left me there, in the home we had finally started to build. But I get it now. And I am sorry. I am so, so sorry that I wasn't enough and that I didn't do more and-"

"Aaron," she whispered. Her eyes had fluttered open moments after he'd started speaking, but she hadn't been ready to confront the world. He needed to get the words out. He needed a moment to be Aaron before he morphed back into Hotch.

She has no right to his name. Not now. Not after everything she has put him through. Not after she left him on his knees, a ring so different from the one Ian had tried to give her that still symbolised the exact same thing, with tears in his eyes as she pretended he was nothing in order to protect him.

But she needed him. She was cold, and her stomach hurt, and she didn't know where she was. She didn't understand why it was so dark, or why only he was there, apologising. The team should have been waiting. He should have been smiling, looking slightly disapproving. Not crying. He wouldn't risk any of the team seeing him like that.

He looks up. "Emily," he whispers, pouring every inch of his heart into that single word. But as he says it, he is looking at her hairline. Not her eyes. He knows that if he looks at her eyes, he will crumble. And now she is awake, he cannot let himself do that.

He forgets that Emily knows everything about him. She knows the optimum temperature for his baths. She knows the way he takes his coffee, the fact that he hates two-in-one shampoo and conditioner but keeps it in his go bag for ease. She knows which nightmares lead to a cold shower that chills him to the bone and reminds him of his own fragility.

She knows that his own humanity terrifies him. She knows how he shuts down and avoids everything when it gets too overwhelming, which is how she knows whatever has happened is bad. Worse than bad.

"Where is everyone?" she asks, shocked by the weakness of her voice.  

He doesn't reply. He knows that he needs to. That with every moment that passes, she comes up with another scenario. But he didn't need to tell the team that she never made it off the table. Until now, he has been able to pretend that none of this is even happening. That when she opened her eyes, he would guide the others down to her room. 

That when they discharged her from the hospital, he would take her to his apartment, Jack's toys strewn across the living room and the carpet, which if you looked at it from just the right angle would see had been changed in one area.

"Hotch," she whispers.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them, there is no warmth behind his stare. He still won't meet her eyes, and she feels herself begin to panic. His biggest tell is when he refuses to look at someone.

"They believe you're dead," he says, voice completely monotone as he fights a wave of emotion.

"Then why haven't you gone and told them that I'm not?" she asks, already terrified of the answer.

He looks down. "Emily, I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry. You don't need to forgive me, but I need you to know that there was no other way to keep you safe. I tried. I tried so hard, but there was no other way-" he inhaled, snatching his hand back the moment she tried to hold it.

It hurt, more than anything that had happened over the past weeks, to see how he did not trust her. Not anymore.

"I always said that the only person that wouldn't forgive you is yourself. And I stand by that. So tell me the truth. Please Aaron. Just tell me what happened because I can't remember and it is terrifying, and you know what it is like. Please," she whispered. She tried, once more, to take his hand, but she was too weak.

He did not know what it was like to not remember what had happened. He remembered everything Foyet had done to him, from the first time the knife had touched his skin to the moment he had lost consciousness. He had never told her that. He probably never would.

"It's to keep you safe," he said, trying to find the words to explain what had happened. But like the ability to save the people he loved, they evaded him.

"Safe," she repeated. Like she didn't know what the word meant anymore. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she never had. There had been a time where his arms were the safest place she could find herself, but the man sitting in front of her was not the one that had held her at night.

The man sitting in front of her was a coward.

He flinches at her tone. It's been so long since she's spoken to him like that- snapping her words and rolling her eyes- that he's forgotten what it felt like. He wonders how. Her words always managed to meet their mark.

"Yes Em." The Em slips out without meaning to. He doesn't get to call her Em anymore. "Safe."

"Ian Doyle has murdered every single person on that team apart from Clyde Easter. Explain to me how I'm going to be safe."

"He's going to believe you're dead," he says, too quietly for her to hear. He says it to himself because he too needs to believe she's dead. In some ways, she is because she'll never be the woman she was before, and it's all his fault.

She frowns, the words not quite processing as her head still hurts from the painkillers. All she can say to him is: "What?"

She deserves more than what he can give. So he ignores his own shattered heart, and finally, finally meets her eyes. His own pain and anguish is reflected in hers. She almost looks away because she cannot handle his humanity. Almost. Her desire to prove she is better than he believes wins out, so she carries on staring.

"Ian Doyle hurt you. Badly. So-" he pauses again. Desperately tries to find that neutrality he had always stressed the importance of. He fails, because just like with Foyet, this isn't just a victim of a heinous crime. It's the woman that holds whatever pieces of his heart that still exist this time. Even as she had walked away, leaving him on his knees, he knew he would never stop loving her.

"So what, Aaron?" she presses, sounding angry.

It scares him, her anger. Everyone's anger scares him. He hates it, hates that his father still holds that kind of grip on him and his mind, but the moment someone seems angry he feels himself shutting down and becoming smaller. Drifting away to a fictional world where nobody cries and he's safe. 

He doesn't deserve to shut down now.

"Everyone thinks you're dead because that's what we've told them. And they will think you're dead until we find Ian Doyle and-" he doesn't finish his sentence. Ian Doyle needs to die before Emily can come home to him and the team. But if he tells her that, she will realise he is not the good man she believes him to be. He is just one misstep away from becoming an unsub they cannot find.

"They think I'm dead," she says, tears in her eyes as all the pain she has been repressing since the first sign of Ian's return suddenly makes itself known. She doesn't feel anything physically- the sedatives are working- but it feels like her heart is being ripped from her chest.

For a moment, she wonders if Aaron felt like this when Haley died.

"I'm sorry," he says, again. It's what his vocabulary has been reduced to. He doesn't know how to put everything he wants to say into words. He doesn't know what the point in doing that is, because it won't change anything.

JJ is taking her to Paris. She deserves that. She needs that. She needs to see something good. He doesn't deserve to see Emily smiling and healing enough to travel. He deserves the anger and hatred of the team. He already knows that when it's time for them to know, he will tell them how it was him.

"You're sorry."

"Emily, please, I am trying to keep you safe, so just let me tell you what's going to happen. When the doctor gets here, they're moving you somewhere out of state, and as soon as you're strong enough, JJ will go with you. Paris, I think. She'll be your point of contact." It comes out in all one breath because if he stops he won't be able to start again.

"Are you?"

"Am I?"

"Are you really trying to keep me safe, or is this about you? Because I told Derek to let me go. I told him to let me go because Ian won't stop coming after people until I am dead. He broke out of a prison that should've held ten of him. He murdered every single person from that operation apart from Clyde Easter."

She's hurting. She's angry and hurt numb and upset and still so in love with him, but she can't hold back. Not now. She has to let go of everything and everyone she has ever cared about, and although rationally she knows it isn't his fault- it's Doyle's- she can't shout at Doyle. She can shout at Aaron though.

"Emily," he pleads, closing his eyes.

"You should've let me die," she spits. "You should have let me die because then this whole thing would be over. Ian would've got what he wanted and nobody else would be getting hurt. He'll work out I'm not dead. He will. And then the next person he kills, their blood will be on your hands."

He knows she doesn’t mean it. He knows that. It doesn’t stop him from looking at her face, at the mouth that had always felt like a firework against his own and wondering how she manages to do this to him.

“Stop,” he begs. He can’t take much more.

“Just like Haley’s,” she says before she can stop herself.

Those three words make his heart shatter all over again.

Time seems to slow down. Her own words register in her mind and her jaw drops. She presses one trembling fist to her mouth, forcing the apology down. She can't give it to him right now. He won't accept it. The other traitorously reaches out for his hand, still resting on the blanket.

He had turned away the moment she said Haley's name. When he looks at her again, eyes read and cheeks damp, his mouth is forming the word why, but no sound is coming out. He's frozen, hands trembling and there is nothing she can do to cure his pain. 

There are no words she can whisper. No medication she can count out for him. No stories of her childhood that she can distract him. There is nothing she can do because this time, it was not a serial killer scarring his stomach so every time he looked in the mirror he would see them. It was not a man that should never have had children causing him to look at her and ask what he had been thinking.

It had been her. That was the problem with profilers. They always knew where to strike. The difference was, he was too afraid to do it. She was too angry to not.

The worst part is, he doesn't reply. He doesn't say a single word, because in his head, it is what he deserves. It is what everyone has been thinking since the day of the funeral. The difference with her is that she does not hesitate to say what she thinks.

It used to make him smile. In this moment, it breaks him.

He moves from the chair. He's done his duty. And if he looks at her, he think will say something he doesn't mean. Something cruel. Something about her own issues- about how she doesn't trust him, how she is so afraid of commitment she would let the only good thing she's ever let herself have go. 

She knows that he won't. He's too good. Too afraid. It's why, before she can overthink it, she whispers one word: "Stay."

He's still close enough to hear her. She watches as slight relief, then pained love, and finally a forced and cold neutrality that she has always hated because it means people don't get to see how beautiful and painful his humanity is.

Nothing he does will ever be enough for this. He will never deserve her forgiveness. The final decision was out of his hands, but if he had just fought a little bit harder, then he could have told the team and they would be able to share the burden. He will never be good enough for her. The darkness she has carried with her since that day in Italy, even though she understands now that she too was just a child faced with an impossible decision, will never compare to his.

Her darkness was part of her beauty. His got people killed. Her, laying on that bed, is just another piece of proof. He cannot give her what she deserves, but he can give her what she wants.

And so, he stays.

Nothing she says will ever make up for those words that now feel like copper in her mouth. She will never deserve the feel of his calloused hands- some from the horrors of his childhood, others from the guitar he loved to play so much- in her own. If she had just been quicker, less of a survivor then he would be able to mourn her death instead of hiding the truth. She will never be good enough for him. The darkness he has carried with him since he was a child, a darkness that should have never been created, will never compare to hers.

His darkness is part of his humanity. Hers got people hurt. Him, heart once more in tattered shreds because of her, is just another piece of proof. She cannot give him what he deserves, but she can give him what he needs.

And so, she reaches out for him.

She takes his hands that are not coated with Haley's blood, no matter what he believes and holds them tightly. He lets her, even though every part of him screams to let go. Haley's body was cold the last time he held her. He does not want to remember Emily as this cold and fragile girl. 

But he will not take her to Paris. JJ had to stand there as they fought to keep her alive because he was frantically trying to convince people that cared more about politics than they did about real lives. She needs it.

He won't survive without it, but maybe that is for the best.

They sit like that, hands clasped in some pathetic recreation of the long nights and days they had spent together. 

When the doctors came to take her away, somewhere where he could not follow, the full extent of what was about to happen hit her.

"Aaron, I-" 

don't blame you, need you to come with me, want you to forgive yourself, regret saying no, trust you with everything I am, think you are the best man I know, didn't mean what I said- 

"I love you."

"Emily, you-" 

don't need to lie, are so much more than you give yourself credit for, are one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, cannot regret saying no, were right about Haley, were right about everything- 

"You shouldn't have said that."

She knows that. But she needed to say it in place of all the things she could never find the words for.

"Be happy for me," she says, right before the doors close.

"I'll try," he whispers, to an empty and cold room.

He doesn't. He runs instead, like the coward she accused him of being.

[owl-with-a-pen]

I feel like we should talk about that scene in 6x11 where they’re fighting the cat, and nia goes to like sacrifice herself and as she’s getting sucked in Brainy yells “dreamer, no!!” And the clear cut worry in his expression, how he totally abandoned all odds to anything just to jump in and save her, and how they get back and he’s like “you dying won’t help anyone” omg- Brainia shippers were definitely well fed.

Ahhh, I know!!

It's the way Brainy's voice got more and more distressed every new time he called for Dreamer. The first being when Nia breaks away to put her plan into action, the second when she throws out her lasso, and then finally when Brainy realises that she's getting pulled into her own trap, he just can't hold himself back anymore and throws himself right into the fray with that final call for her to stop.

We're seeing more and more mentions of Coluan shrinking technology this season, but the last time Brainy bottled anything himself was when he stopped Leviathan, something he did only because he knew he had no other choice. Using his mother's technique like that mustn't be easy for him; not only would it resurface old memories, but it almost pays homage to what the Brainiac clan's long history of evil has always centred around. Brainy is using his mother's technology for good here, just as he uses the Brainiac name for good, but that doesn't mean he'd ever use it unless he was given no other choice.

In the moment, he did the only thing he could do to save Nia's life and honestly, that in itself just speaks volumes about what Brainy would be willing to do for her. The fact that he calls Nia out for making a rash decision, that Nia listens and finally talks to Kara because of it, again shows the strides the two of them have made in terms of communication. Brainy was willing to accommodate Nia's decision not to tell Kara for a time, but the second he realises it's causing her to think irrationally and put herself in danger, he immediately tries to find the words to put a stop to it, to encourage her to do what she's been avoiding this whole time.

And when she does, when she's that much lighter for it, it's then that we see Brainy fully supportive of her next plan. Because he knows it isn't coming from that same guilt-ridden pit of desperation.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

the conclusion to the fëanorian tauriel saga! this one’s mostly about the state of affairs after she gets adopted into everyone’s favourite family of murderers, plus a couple of extra bits and bobs. there’s some more stuff i’d like to put down somewhere - a deleted scene, a minific - but this is mostly the end of my headcanons for this particular au. so far, anyway. part 1 part 2 part 3

mandos may have, in the past, given off the impression that fëanor would remain within the halls until dagor dagorath

that statement was always a bit of a conflation of terms. like everybody else in the halls, fëanor would get a clean pass for reinbodiment as and when he attended elf afterlife therapy and got a handle on his shit. it’s just nobody thought he would ever do that

but he has done that, and more besides. he’s honestly been clear to go for a while now, he just refused to leave until his sons were ready

and since then... mandos will admit to certain political pressures exerted towards keeping fëanor under lock and key

but over time, those pressures slowly yield to the fact that mandos absolutely cannot deal with this lunatic for the rest of arda

death has not put a damper on fëanor’s unstoppability. he was preoccupied for a long while with the damage done to his sons but with them all out he had a conspicious lack of things to Do

and a bored fëanor is a dangerous fëanor

so yeah. fëanor is less released from the halls of mandos as he is unceremoniously kicked out. mandos refuses to talk about it. the maiar of the halls throw a massive party

this all happens on extremely short notice. as in, manwë announces his release like half a day before it happens

this of course throws his extended family (and a decent proportion of the rest of the continent) into this massive frenzied whirlwind of panic. everybody thought they’d get more warning than this, and nobody knows what’s going to happen next

at the epicentre of this maelstrom is the elf himself. fëanor doesn’t know either, he’s still trying to catch up on everyone he left behind and everything that’s gone down since he died. so much has changed, and he’s still stumbling groggily in the darkness

at some point between his long-practiced apology to finarfin and the maglor encounter everyone’s been dreading, though, he makes an unexpected discovery

he has a daughter now. apparently

her name’s tauriel, she smells like woodsmoke. he first meets her when she wanders into the living room, blinks blearily for a couple of seconds, goes ‘hi dad!’ and immediately falls asleep on his lap

and it’s not like he’s not incredibly stoked to have another child, it’s just how???

the first time he asks this question, the motley collection of relatives and old friends he’s talking to all come to the same conclusion

they can either (a) walk him through the history of tauriel’s growing friendship with and eventual adoption into the least reputable branch of the house of finwë or (b) dump the latest copy of the grand unified tauriel conspiracy theory on him with absolutely no context

considering they’re the hellfamily and friends, they go for the chaos option

it takes fëanor, like, two days to read it. the thing was ridiculously elaborate even before people started competing to come up with the craziest possible theories

the people around him keep the ruse going as long as they can stretch it. eventually celebrimbor takes pity on him, and legolas fills in the details

(legolas currently occupies a position in the fëanorian internal hierarchy not dissimilar to fingon’s. he has no idea how to interpret that)

fëanor also just. talks to tauriel. about how she came, and why she stayed

the next day, fëanor loudly announces to the entirety of tirion that he has a new daughter, her name is tauriel and she’s amazing

she’s been a de facto part of the house for years but this is the first official confirmation of it. the news, and the gossip, spreads all over aman

not that this marks a massive turning point for tauriel. even without a big announcement, she made which side she was on pretty clear back when shit went down

and honestly her life hasn’t changed that much since then. she still spends most of her time exploring noldorin country or chilling in the forest with her silvan friends

this isn’t too uncommon a situation for a member of the house of fëanor. they usually do their own thing, whatever that may be. even nerdanel abandons her house every so often to spend a year or two in the mountains

even in tirion, it’s not that different. she still crashes in the same place, hangs with the same people

she just also occasionally does stuff for :mobster voice: the family

she’s part of the second generation’s extremely overprotective mutual defence web. she has a few responsibilities vis-a-vis the definitely-not-minions. she’s not quite as magnetic as her older brothers, but she’s charismatic enough people tend to both legitimately like and let their guard down around her

she goes to court events sometimes, if she’s in town and in the mood. she’s not virulently allergic to it like celegorm but she doesn’t thrive there the way elrond does. she prefers lower-city forge parties. way more booze, way less bling

(the greenwood elves have stopped needing to bring her along to every political meeting for quote-unquote moral support. everyone knows who she rides with now, and the court bureaucrats tend to give her people whatever they want without the need for extortion)

she’s not the rowdiest of fëanor and nerdanel’s brood, but that’s really not saying much. she’s kicked off the last vestiges of social respectably and indulges fully in her family’s ability to do whatever they want, whenever they want, because who’s seriously going to tell a kinslayer they can’t do something?

a decent proportion of the population of tirion, it turns out. eh, the arguments are always fun

that’s the state of tauriel’s life when fëanor comes back. afterwards - like i said, it doesn’t change terribly much, fëanor rocking valinor to its core notwithstanding

he is massively, intensely supportive of everything she does. she knows that it’s partially that this family is just Like That, but she also gets the vibe he’s overinvesting a little? she’s the only one of his children who doesn’t have a reason to hate him

but they get along fine. he’s had a lot of practice at being a dad, and is trying to improve on his personal faults. his relationship with her is blissfully uncomplicated compared to the mess most of his pre-death bonds are, and while she’ll protect her brothers from him if need be she’ll protect him too when the world is out to get him

there’s this moment at one of those fancy court galas. tauriel’s chatting with some sindarin visitors when something explodes a few rooms away

almost immediately, she locks gazes with curufin, who’s peoplewatching some distance away. they have a conversation conducted entirely in eyeflicks that could be summarised as ‘did he just...’ ‘alas he probably did’

they stride out of the hall together to rescue their idiot dad from the consequences of his terrible decisions

that’s another subtlety to the way the fëanorians work, tauriel is discovering. the siblings hellspawn may be a constant fight cloud of bickering nutbags (with the obvious exception of herself) but they all always out-sane their dad

she keeps learning things like this as the years roll on and her families get closer. she finds silvans having tea with nerdanel, tirion craftselves looking for her in the woods. across both of her worlds, she’s building a posse

(just like her brothers did, long long ago under the light of the trees. when next the host rides to war, there will be those who follow tauriel’s banner)

even legolas has mostly gotten over it. their initial friendship, after all, was founded on them both being chaos children. tauriel is one in a way they called silvan in greenwood and noldorin in aman, fully conscious that the powers that be disapprove of her shenanigans and deliberately and vindictively defying them

legolas’ style is more sindarin, vaguely aware that the rules exist but doesn’t really understand how they apply to him. he did sneak a dwarf up the straight road, after all. him and tauriel got up to so much nonsense when they were kids, and no matter who else she runs with, he’ll always be her best friend

he’ll never be fully comfortable with the literal childhood horror stories she’s taken up with, but for her sake he’s willing to try. they might be scary, but, he’s realising, they can be fun too

(even if he does spend most of their family gatherings hiding behind elrond)

and then, one day...

tauriel doesn’t exactly pine for kíli, but she does kind of regret how it all turned out. she wonders what being in a relationship with him would have been like, sometimes

but he’s a dwarf, and she’s an elf, and she can’t leave the undying lands, and dwarves aren’t supposed to come here. they are sundered until the breaking of the world

when she tells this to fëanor, this massive smug grin spreads across his face. ‘unless’

three hours later, they’ve turned fëanor’s front room into a base of operations. maedhros is on project management, caranthir is on logistics, amras is going down a list of maiar they can strongarm. celebrimbor stops by, looks at the plans on the walls, and, somewhat excitedly, goes ‘are we breaking into the dwarven afterlife???’

yes. yes they are

epilogue:

when the end comes and all elves return to cuivénen, certain people tauriel knew back in middle-earth discover what she’s been doing for the past few ages

they get the full skinny later, after they talk to her and stuff, but the first whisper they hear is ‘tauriel’s been taken in by the fëanorians’

reactions vary. tauriel’s mama, who doesn’t recognise the name, goes ‘the spirits of fire? that’s sounds so much like her, i’m so happy she’s made friends’

tauriel’s mummy, who does recognise the name, is laughing too hard to speak

and thranduil cradles his head in his hands. ‘of course’ he mutters ‘of course she fucking did’

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Consequences: Chapter 1

Synopsis: 

Jordan Williams is a former Marine who starts a new life joining Medical school at age of 27. 

Rachel Ferguson is a freshly out of college graduate and Medical school 1st year student. 

Two complete strangers who fell in bed together for a night of solace from their moment of anger and hurt. By chance, they were brought together and their fates intertwined. 

Not realising yet that not only they share the same house, they also share the person they cannot lose no matter what. 

What will happen when the reality of the one night’s actions filled with lust and anger will hit them both? What will happen when he will find out that the girl he spent the night with is not only his housemate but also his best friend’s little sister? The one he swore to himself never to touch, the one for whom he will never be good enough. Will he be able to keep his hands off her? Or are they doomed from the beginning?

Words: 3600

Authors notes: Some chapters maybe NSFW or have a mature content

Jordan Williams x Rachel Ferguson (Rae, Rae-Rae)

**Warnings: Alcohol consumption, anger, bad decisions in next chapter.*

Jordan Williams never was the one who scared easily, or backed out of his decision for that matter.

Former Marine, even though his parents didn’t support him or approve of it... the one of the few survivors of his platoon… The hero, who single handedly carried his friends out from the burning hell on Earth not knowing if they were dead or alive. Who by some miracle survived, but was left with the nightmares to remind him of how lucky or cursed he was, and with the ugly scars to never let him forget of the ones who weren’t as fortunate. Limping on his right leg, but at least breathing and moving.

And today even though he still wasn’t scared, he was nervous. This was the last Friday before he was starting his new life. No more deployments. No more deaths, at least not on his watch. And as many lives as he could save after he would learn how to do that. After he would become one of the best surgeons and open the clinic for the people like him, who would survive beating all odds. For Doctors without the borders who wouldn't be scared to help people in the burning hells... who will be ready and willing to help as many dying to survive, be it soldiers or civilians, something that he failed to do then. But damn him, if he wouldn't do it now, after he would learn how to do that.

And he was determined to learn how… nothing and no-one would stop him, that is what he swore to himself that day. That is what kept him going no matter how difficult it was.

Trying to block the nerves raking through him he gripped the steering wheel firmer trying not to think of the only thing that overshadowed his new beginning. Of the fact that the place that he found for the living, was already occupied, which meant that he would have a housemate, something that he was determined never to have. The main reason why no matter how hard his best friend tried to convince him to rent a house together, he did not succumb to his persuasion. Preferring solitude instead to the company. Not wanting anyone to see him at his lowest or to hear his screams during the nights, while he would wake up sweating from yet another nightmare night after night. And as a result of that he got himself in a situation in which he was now, fated to share the house with the person he even never met.

He huffed, driving toward the lonely standing house, someone’s car was already parked there. He looked around, leaving his car in a free space. Getting out of his SUV, Jordan went toward the house.

Getting inside, he noticed still packed boxes in the hall, but he couldn't hear or see anyone else, which meant that his housemate left without unpacking.

Typicall. He thought, walking further into the house, entering a living room he would be forced to share with someone else. He looked around the neat and cozy room, two armchairs were standing opposite the fireplace, the massive bookcase was located along one of the walls.

He was about to go and check the kitchen when he heard his phone calling. Taking it out, he checked the Caller’s ID before answering the call, listening for a familiar voice coming from his mobile.

“Hey, Jody.”

“Morning to you too, Brandon,” replied Jordan, putting his keys into the bowl and moving further into the kitchen.

“I take it, you finally get to your new place? Settled in okay? How is your new housemate? Still not regretting not moving in with me?” questioned Brandon in his carefree manner, as if he wasn’t on the verge of death no more than six month back after he would save Jordan's life, and in return Jordan saved his. His cheerful voice caused a surge of amazement through Jordan while he listened to his friend.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Jordan growled frowning after finally the questions stopped in that annoyingly abrupt manner he hated. “And yes, I already got to my new place but had no chance to settle in just yet. Answering your last question, I have no idea who my new housemate is as I can see only unopened boxes there. But I do hope that the person I share this place with is someone who will not interrupt my study or throw constant parties... Although based on the fact that instead of unpacking, this housemate just left… I guess I can say goodbye to that…”

“Yes, yes… Got it,” brushed him off Brandon. “About your studies. Even though I still don't know why you need it in the first place, you always could join the forces, but what I do know, is the fact that you need to unwind before it starts… let loose... have meaningless one-night fun... sometimes I really think you forget how to have fun spending all your free time buried in books,” said Brandon, making Jordan flinch at his choice of words. He could be buried… they both could be... as were most of the guys from their platoon.

Pale, bloodied faces appeared in front of his eyes. His hand is suddenly covered in blood right in front of his eyes… screams deafeningly loud dying on their lips twisted in agony, leaving only few of them alive, and if no one would come soon they would join their comrades, their friends… faster than they could finish the prayer…  not that either of them believed, not after what they have seen or could lose.

“What do you mean?” forced out Jordan, closing his eyes and letting out the slow breath. 

“I mean that you wouldn’t recognise fun and beauty even if she bumped into you... And you are coming with me to the party. I need a wingman, and you need to unwind. Hopefully with some cute girl, whose face you will forget the next morning,” chuckled Brandon, making Jordan frown moving his phone a bit further from his ear.

“Never,“ cut Jordan, shaking his head. He was done with partying or with women. Done… "You know I don’t do parties… not anymore.”

“Yes, but you also know I will not give up until you say yes. So let’s make it easier on both of us. Should we?,” laughed Brandon.

“I need to unpack my stuff, and it may take the whole day. Also, I need to go to the library to pick up some books for my studies as tomorrow the library will be closed. So this time you will need to manage this on your own.”

“If these are the only reasons then I don’t see any reason why not.”

“I told you, I will not have…,” Jordan tried to say.

“Nope, still cannot see why you wouldn’t have time for some fun. I will be at your place in twenty minutes and will help you unpack, and then we will pick up your books before crashing this party.”

“You will not give up… aren’t you?”

“Man, you should know by now that never.”

“Fine…” sighed Jordan exasperatedly, looking at his watch. “Be here in twenty minutes, but I will leave the party before 10 pm. Understood?”

“See you in twenty minutes,” replied Brandon, ending the call.

Almost an hour later Jordan finally heard a knock on the door. Grudgingly, he opened it, letting his best friend inside the house.

“You are late,” stated he, holding one of the boxes in his hands. The pain shot through his body, but he didn’t even flinch, still staring at his friend.

“Sorry, I met my new neighbours. Movers bailed on her and her little boy, so I helped her to carry boxes inside,” shrugged Brandon nonchalantly passing by Jordan feeling not even the slightest bit sorry for his delay.

Another hour later and unloading the last boxes that Jordan brought with him, they finally started to unpack them. And in another three hours, they were finally done.

All the stuff that Jordan took with him were put neatly to their places. The bookshelf in the living room stocked with books he brought, and a picture of him and his older sister was put above the fireplace. They both looked in satisfaction around the room putting the empty boxes into the storage place. Brandon patted Jordan on the back before going toward the door.

“So now, when we finally finished unpacking,” started his friend. His eyes widening, when he noticed how Jordan with displeasure looked on his new housemate’s still packed boxes. 

Quickly his friend marched back to him grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door, letting him only grab his keys on the way out. “Don’t you even dare to think about that. You are NOT touching your roomies’ stuff. Now…. let’s go to this place, where you need to be quiet and bore yourself to death or we will be late to the party.”

That word again… thought Jordan. The word that made him flinch every time, remembering the day of his friends’ deaths. Still blaming himself that he couldn’t have saved them all, didn't see approaching danger earlier and when he did it was already too late to warn guys as all hell broke loose just a second after he sensed the danger.

“Can you stop calling it that? And the library can be fun when you know what you are looking for,” he snapped, hoping his friend missed his reaction before they both exited the house, shutting the door behind.

It was already three o’clock when they rushed toward the library, trying to get on time before it was closed. After another ten minutes of arguing that Brandon should wait for him in the car instead of constantly complaining about the place or flirting with every single girl they would meet, Jordan ran up the stairs taking two steps at the time before disappearing behind the heavy doors. When he was about to round the corner, he felt someone bumping straight into him. The heavy books the person was carrying fell to the ground hitting his foot painfully. Making him swear under his breath, looking at the person in front of him with the frown.

“Haven’t you ever been taught that you need to look where you are going?” huffed Jordan in annoyance, crouching in front of the girl with the blonde hair and helping her to collect scattered books. “Next time, watch where you are going,” said he with a scowl on his face, shoving the books into her arms before looking at her for the first time. 

The girl looked at him with the wide open forest green eyes that looked somehow familiar, no matter how silly it may sound. He quickly raked his gaze over her, taking in every detail of her petite form, before hastily returning it back to her eyes. The tongue darted out running over her lips, making his gaze drop to them darkening just for a split second, while following the movement. Her rosy lips parted as if forming a reply, but he quickly shook himself out of his state and before she could utter even a word he raised to his feet and strolled into the library, leaving a startled stranger behind.

“What a jerk,” she mumbled, standing up with the help of her friends and adjusting her skirt.

“But he is a handsome jerk,” whistled an athletic-looking guy, watching after Jordan, throwing a hand over the blonde girl’s shoulder. “Isn’t he, Heath?”

“Ohhhh, yes. He is yummy, and that ass in low cut jeans,” moaned Heather turning to face her friend. “And did you see his lips? Rae-Rae, if I would bump into him… he wouldn’t leave… so easily,” said she with a wink.

“You two are just ridiculous... I hate you,” groaned Rachel, covering her face with books she was now holding in front of her. Her cheeks flamed. “Can you think of anything, but sex?”

Heather and Derek, the guy, who threw a hand over her shoulder, shared an incredulous look, before shaking their heads and answering in unison.

“Nope… never… And you love us, girl.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” frowned Rachel, raising her head to look at her friend.

“Yes, I do. And this is why I don’t try to get the boy myself. Also, because he is straight,” shrugged off Derek, with a wide smile.

“And how exactly do you know that?” questioned Rachel rolling her eyes.

“Did you see the way he looked at you?” asked Derek, sharing another look with Heather, the plan already building in their heads.

“Okay, you two… drop it. I know this look, and you will not try to hook me up with him. He looked at me the same way as any other rich boy in town would look at me. He is a jerk and a snob. And I’m not interested. Besides you know I have a lot on my plate right now. So stop even thinking about this. Be thankful I even agreed to go to that party with you, because if my brother finds out I lied to him... He will kill you first for dragging me there and then lock me up until graduation... or death in solitude,” she mumbled quickly before taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. “And Derek, don’t you dare to forget that you promised me to do our dance. We need to practice.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll remember. I’m always up to show my new moves,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Okay, then let’s go. You know I need to change first and unpack my boxes before my housemate will arrive, which you also promised to do with me,” reminded Rachel, and they went to her house, laughing on their way there.

By the time the clock struck seven, Jordan went into a club hosting a party, scowling at the number of people there. His posture was stiff and on alert while he looked around. Ready to jump into an action at any time.

“Brandon, tell me again, why exactly did I agree to go with you?” said he in a loud voice, while trying to get through the crowd and not to lose his friend from the view, who already scanned the crowd for the distraction for the night.

“To have fun, plus I needed a wingman... Actually... scratch out the last one, I see a target at the bar, bored, single, challenging, redhead. Wingman not required,” Brandon said with a wink, when they finally got inside, instantly starting to move into the direction of the petite girl who captured his attention leaving Jordan behind.

He followed his friend with a glance before looking around the floor. His attention immediately drew to a dancing couple in the middle of the dance floor. Both moving as a whole to the sounds of Latin Music. The sensual dance attracted the drunken crowd closer to them, creating a commotion on the dance floor from enthusiastic screams and whistles. His brows furrowed instantly when he recognised the same pretty blonde girl he met earlier today. Her hair laid in soft waves. And he felt how his gaze unintentionally riveted to her, watching her every move, unable to tear his gaze away.

He watched how the guy led her into a low dip. His hand shifted to the small of her back when another traveled along her neck caressing her body as if they were in the confidentiality of the bedroom. His hand slowly reached for her knee making her stretch out her leg. A beautiful red dress flowed around her body, dancing around her petite frame like flames. At some point during the dance, she looked straight into his eyes, and he felt as if falling under her spell. Her soft forest green eyes were burning with fire, alighting something unexplored inside of him. Something that had died with his friends that day, something that they never will have and something that he will never deserve.

He could feel how his heart sped up beating as never before, and his breath elevated, from the beats of sultry music and the way her body moved in another man’s arms. Waves of golden hair refracted the lights of the club, and she moved, holding his gaze as though burning him alive from the inside. As if under the spell, Jordan moved closer to the dancers not even realising it until a buzzing of his mobile broke him out of his daze.

It seemed that eternity had passed when in reality it was only a splitting second, second that he would be not able to get out of his mind. He could feel the pounding of his heart increasing with impending anger as he looked at the caller’s ID, blinking once... twice at the phone clenched in his hand. Contemplating for a moment to just let it go to the voicemail. Not wanting or ready for another confrontation that was inevitably coming.

Deep down he knew that it wasn’t a solution and no matter how long he would avoid it his mother would find the way to get to him, so before he could think about that more he went outside of the club to take a call, not even sparing another glance to the dance floor... or to the girl who’s eyes looked so familiar.

“Mother,” he said, taking a call. “Sorry, I…,” he started, interrupted by his mother’s voice “No mother, I didn’t… I’m with Brandon… Yes, he is still my friend,” replied Jordan, trying to stay calm, while listening to his mother. His grip on the phone was getting firmer and firmer with every word she said, surprised that it didn't break in half by the time he had a chance to speak again. “Mother, no I still plan to study Medicine and not business,” said he, annoyed by yet another remark from his mother. “MOTHER,” he said, raising his voice and losing control just for a split second, before taking a deep calming breath and closing his eyes. “This is my life, and I have all the right to decide what I want or don’t want to do with it. Look what you've done to Leslie? Isn’t it enough…,” exasperatedly said he, only to be shut up by his mother once again. “Yes, mother,” he gritted through his clenched teeth, feeling how his blood started to boil again, wanting nothing more than to get drunk, and to get away as far as possible from his family as he did while he served in the Marine Corps, until he couldn't do that anymore.

His hand reached for his hip by instinct. The wound was deep enough to make him bleed to death on that ill fated day leaving him dead, but it didn’t happen... Instead it made him limp, but he could manage that. This he could hide from everyone with the prescribed medicine when the pain got to the point of unbearable and with the gritted teeth when he just wanted to limp, not caring if somebody will consider it a weakness. And it took him the hell of a lot of willpower to remember it. To remember that he cannot allow himself to be weak, couldn’t allow to show it. No one knew how bad it was... no one except Brandon, who was there for him after he saved his life. The only person who knew that if the bullet would have hit the inch higher or if the help would get there a little bit later Jordan would bleed to death. The only person to whom he told how bad it is and how much pain it causes him even now.

“No, I will not change my mind,” said he on autopilot before ending the phone call abruptly without listening to what else his mother wanted to say. After a moment, he finally shoved the phone back into the pocket of his dark blue jeans moving back into the club and walking toward the bar. 

The music has changed to something slower and sensual, and when he looked on the dance floor his eyes landed on the same tantalisingly beautiful stranger who was in the middle of the argument. 

He could see how some man grabbed her hand, but she jerked it from him and stormed toward the exit.

He huffed, downing one drink after another, not paying attention to what he was drinking, his eyes dropping back to the bar in front of him. His thoughts involuntarily returned to the girl, but he pushed them away. Frustrated and angry by the fact that he couldn’t get her out of his head for some inexplicable reason. Hurt and angry by the fact his mother managed to get under his skin once again.

By the time he was done and ready to leave the club, the anger boiling inside him reached the limit. Jordan rose abruptly, almost tripping over his feet, when the pain in his hip shot through his leg, making him curse under his breath, taking a moment to compose himself. 

He looked around, searching for Brandon, but couldn’t find him anywhere, so he typed him a quick message letting him know that he was heading back to his place. When he was just about to exit the club, he felt someone bump straight into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around the person’s shoulders, preventing them both from the fall.

Tagging: @choices-bound​ @lahelasaveiro​

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language + severe triggerwarning for victims of domestic abuse.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: House-hunting, mole-hunting and Anita-hunting (sort of). And this chapter is like 95% conversation.

Chapter 32

  “Are you serious?”

  “What?”

  “That is way too big… What would we even do with all that?”

  “Hermosa, we fill the space we have. That’s not a euphemism, just a fact. If we have four rooms, we’ll fill those, and if we have twelve, we’ll fill those too.”

  “Who the fuck needs twelve rooms?”

  “It only has eight rooms.”

  “And there are only four of us.”

  “So, that’s it? No room to grow further?”

  “Honey, just how much are you anticipating this little family to grow? That’s a totally serious question, by the way. How many kids would you actually like to have?”

  “If your weird-ass body permits – like… four.”

  “Hey, who are you calling w…… did you just say four?”

  “Yup.”

  “What… including Missy, or… an additional four?”

  “I’m not picky. If we end up with just the two little miracles we have, I’ll still be the happiest man alive, but I wouldn’t mind having a bunch. Five, six, however many our love can create, I’ll be more than happy to nurture and raise and love all of them unconditionally, even when they inevitably pee on me.”

  You had no idea how to answer that, so you just stared at him. But he knew how ambivalent you were about all things concerning family, so he didn’t pose the question back to you, and instead just smiled while he watched the cogs in your mind struggle to fit together.

  “S-six… you’d be okay with another… six kids?”

  “Mhm.”

  “Fuck, Marcus, I’m struggling to even get it into my head that we’re gonna be joined by a tiny fragile infant in about 7 months, how are you already contemplating another five?!”

  “Relax, preciosa, I’m not actively contemplating it, I’m just answering a question. Saying I wouldn’t mind something, doesn’t mean I’m aiming for it.”

  “But you’re looking at houses with eight rooms…”

  “Like I said: we fill the space we have. Rooms have endless usages, it’s not like we have to make all of them bedrooms. We can have home-offices, a separate play-room, a separate dining room.”

  “Yeah, I get all that, it just seems excessive.”

  “Sweetheart, all I’m saying is, we’re looking for a home for life. If our family grows more, I don’t want to have to move again. I want the place we pick to be one that can take anything we weirdo’s throw at it.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ll look at the big-ass house.”

  “Thank you.”

  He handed you the phone and you scrolled through the different images, seeing things you liked and things you didn’t. But when you got to the master bedroom, your eyebrows shot up. The room looked ordinary at first glance, but when you took a closer look, you noticed that it had some special features.

  “Marcus… is this why you’re so interested in this house?”

  “It’s not the only reason…”

  “Who the fuck owns this place - Stormy Daniels?”

  “No, just some accountant.”

  “The bedroom is soundproofed.”

  “Which is convenient and useful for all kinds of people, but especially parents.”

  “Hard pass.”

  “We could just go and look at it before you dismiss it completely.”

  “Nope. Not happening. Move on.”

  “Why? Seriously, what’s so bad about it? Missy wouldn’t have to wear headphones every other night, and we wouldn’t have to worry about her overhearing stuff.”

  “Yes, those are good points. But: what if something happens to one of us, and the other needs to shout for help? What if something happens to Missy, and she tries to shout for help and we can’t hear her? What if someone breaks into the house, and we don’t hear it? I mean, I’m pretty sure you have super-hearing, but I don’t, and you’re not home every second of every day. I want to live in a house that speaks to me. You know, the way our house used to creak in the mornings when the sun warmed it, and settle again in the evenings, when it cooled. And if we are gonna have a bunch of kids, I sure as shit wanna be able to hear every little thing they get up to.”

  He looked ridiculously pleased at how you’d thought that through.

  “Got it, hard pass on all soundproofing. But can I ask you another serious question? One you might not have such a clear answer for?”

  “Sure.”

  “Our house… why did you send the whole thing over there? Why not just Prince and his machines?”

  “There wasn’t any thought involved with that, just instinct, and at the time, the house didn’t feel safe. I walked in and it was like entering a tomb. And I honestly don’t know if I could’ve ever walked in to that house again without having that feeling.”

  “I can understand that, mi amor. And I hope you know that I’m not asking because I’m in any way upset with you. I saw the look in your eyes in those moments, and I know how scared you were. To be able to utilise your abilities with that kind of precision and delicacy right then, was down-right miraculous.”

  “Let’s just hope I never have to try and repeat that miracle. Now, what’s next on your list?”

  He tapped away on his phone, blinking a few times at the wetness in his eyes, before handing it back to you.

  “Wow… this is even bigger.”

  “Same number of rooms, just a bigger kitchen and more garage-space.”

  “Oh, I like the yard.”

  “Check out the backyard.”

  “Holy… that’s huge! And a pool. We’d need guardrails around that, or I’d be perpetually terrified for the baby to fall in. Are those trees on the property as well?”

  “Yes. That whole little patch of woods is.”

  “Really? I mean, a pair of swings in those trees…”

  You were so engrossed in the phone that you didn’t see Marcus smile wider as he watched you fall in love with the place.

  “Oh, I love the kitchen. And there’s a fireplace! Those are beautiful floors. Holy shit – I could swim in that bathtub…”

  “Sooo…… you like it?”

  “I do.”

  “Enough to go have a look?”

  “Definitely. But Missy has to come too.”

  He beamed. You’d had a few long conversations about the house-hunting before you actually started, and after a meeting at the bank, you’d found out that your credit was basically more than big enough for anything you might want, which was an odd thing to try and get your head around. Not that you wanted a life of luxury, but it was sort of strange to realise that you actually could have practically any kind of life you chose, in terms of housing.   The two of you had settled on a firmly planted roof of expense that you were willing to extend to the purchase. And even though this house was huge and renovated to the nines with modern upgrades, that still managed to float seamlessly into the older stem and feel of the house, it wasn’t really particularly near that roof.

  “I’ll call the realtor and see if they can fit us in later this week.”

  “It’s a nice area. A little out of the way, but a good neighbourhood, and Missy wouldn’t have to change schools. Our commute to work would be a bit longer, but on quieter roads. And there’s a fence around the property. We could get a dog, or two. Or even a frickin’ pony with the size of that backyard.”

  Marcus just stared at you with that giddy smile firmly planted in his whole frame, while you rambled on, completely lost in your own thoughts, until his silence eventually made you snap out of it and look at him.

  “Oh, crap. I’m already moving in, aren’t I…?”

  He just laughed and hugged you.

  “I’m definitely on board with the dogs. But I’m gonna need my phone back if I’m gonna be able to call the realtor.”

  You quickly handed it back to him, just as there was a careful knock on the door.   You were in Marcus’s office, sitting in one of the sofas, perfectly naturally just sitting next to each other, for once. It had only been a week since you were released from medical, and he was still a little worried about getting you worked up, so you hadn’t been together yet, and it was creating something of a space between you. Not a wall, nothing that exclusive, just a little void that was a bit hard to reach across.   He called for the person to enter, and Will stepped in, immediately shooting an apologetic glance at Marcus. He still hadn’t quite recovered from seeing Cujo that time, even though Marcus had apologized for scaring him.

  “Hi, sorry, I was told I could find you here.”

  You smiled warmly at him to ease his discomfort.

  “What’s up, Will?”

  “Uh, Miss. Timmons is looking for you, she needs your help.”

  Oh, for fucks sake…

  “Let me guess; she screwed up her paperwork, again?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Damned it, Izzy. Wait, why’d she send you to get me, you’re not an errand-boy, she couldn’t have picked up the phone?”

  “She did go looking for you in your office, but when you weren’t there, she got a little… desperate. She knows that she’s messed up too many times already, and I think she’s genuinely scared that you’re gonna fire her. She started crying outside your office and I was just passing by, so I offered to go find you for her.”

  “If I had the authority to fire her, I would’ve already done it.”

  You sighed and got up to leave, but Marcus caught your elbow.

  “You’re not gonna go back to work, right? We talked about that.”

  “If I know Izzy, this won’t be solved by correcting a few clerical errors.”

  “So, let someone else do it.”

  “No one else can, honey. That’s why I still have my job despite the number of sick-days I have.”

  “Preciosa… it’s dangerous. Prince’s people are in this building, and if he was obsessed with you, or us, then so are they. None of us can afford to be distracted right now.”

  “I know, but we still have to live. We’re still the same people, and neither one of us are the type of person that’s just gonna stand by when someone needs help. If the team needs you, I expect you to go and help them, not just because that’s your job, but because that’s who you are.”

  “Just don’t let yourself get too engrossed. Stay alert at all times. We have no idea who’s a friend and who isn’t.”

  “I’ll check in with you every hour, okay?”

  “Every half-hour. And just until you’ve sorted this mess out, then you come back and find me, you don’t start on another three problems you discover along the way.”

  “Are you giving me orders now, Team Leader?”

  He grabbed your hips and pulled you in close, so that your bodies were only millimetres apart and his nose was brushing against yours. It was more than enough to heat you up after six weeks of inactivity, but the tremble of emotion in his voice when he spoke next, pushed the desire aside, to make way for compassion.

  “I can’t lose you again. I’ll do anything…”

  You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his. How many times had you lost each other already? Your ability made it so easy for you to feel like it was your job to save others, like it was what you were put in this world to do, and especially where your family was concerned. So, you had to start reminding yourself that while you would probably always be able to absorb anything bad that happened to them – you’d also always hurt them by doing that. Your ability came with a terrible price, and you were only lucky to have survived everything you’d been through thus far.   Marcus was right, you had to be more careful.   You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and nestled your nose into his neck. His arms closed around your waist and held you to him, strong and sure, and you felt like you could just stand there for the rest of the day.

  “I promise I’ll be careful, and not take any risks. I love you.”

  “Te amo, querida.”

  Will had moved to stand outside the door after Marcus started talking to you, but he fell in behind you when you walked past him.

  “So, where is she, and what has she done?”

  It felt really good to get back into something familiar and achievable again. To do something that generated an immediate response and result, and within fifteen minutes you suddenly understood why Marcus had been so worried. You got lost in the task in no time at all.   You sent him a text while you waited for a lawyer to call you back.

  [You’re right, I’m already cheating.]

  [How bad?]

  [Two other issues already solved, while I’m waiting to work out Izzy’s.]

  [Why are you waiting?]

  [Because lawyers always have something better to do.]

  [Fine. But as soon as it’s dealt with, you come back to me. I’ll be at the control centre.]

  [Promise. What’s going on?]

  [Just two small countries deciding to go to war over the quality of their chocolate.]

  [Well… I suppose there are worse things.]

  [They’re hurling missiles at each other over fucking candy…]

  [Wow… Where’s Máma when you need her?]

  [Don’t you worry, she’s right here, so this should be sorted out by the time you get here.]

  [Oh, in that case, I am so calling her Chocoreno from now on.]

  [Please don’t…]

  [Only if she doesn’t solve it.]

  [*sigh*]

  After another eight phone calls and a lot of grovelling to people you really didn’t like, you finally managed to set things straight, and went to find Izzy to give her a piece of your mind - again. But when you got to her office, she was on the phone and turned away from the door, so she didn’t see you come in, and you accidentally overheard the end of her conversation.

  “No, of course not, I’ll be straight home from work. Why would I make any stops? --- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you… --- No, baby, don’t… I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. --- Anything you want, name it. --- Yeah, that sounds.. nice. I’ll be home soon.”

  Shit.

  She turned around, looking absolutely terrified, and then she saw you by the door and quickly tried to adapt a neutral expression. She was good at it too, within half a second there was no trace of fear in her face. You only got that good at hiding your feelings if you knew that showing them meant terrible pain.

  “So, everything’s taken care of, no harm done.”

  “Really? Oh, thank you. I’m so sorry, I swear I don’t mean to mess up the papers, it just gets to be too much sometimes.”

  “Izzy, if I ask you a personal question, will you answer me honestly?”

  A trace of fear re-emerged in her features, but she nodded carefully.

  “Is it work that gets to be too much… or is it home?”

  You could see the internal struggle. The need to be free of the fear and the pain, and that same fear making it almost impossible. All the irritation and frustration fell away from you with the realisation that she wasn’t incompetent at all. She was being smothered.   How many times had you added to her stress and general feeling of inadequacy, by barking at her for constantly missing or screwing up doing things? Why hadn’t you seen the signs sooner, you knew every single one of them?

  “I’ve been where you are, Izzy. I should have seen this. I’m so sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, honestly, I’m fine.”

  “Show me your arms and your stomach. If they aren’t bruised, I might believe you.”

  She squirmed where she stood, and her head dropped in defeat.

  “When was the last time you didn’t have an injury somewhere? When was the last time you could move without feeling pain somewhere?”

  She just kept staring at the floor, shaking her head, trying to will it not to be true, so you walked up to her, pushed your energy around her, and healed her.   The amount of energy that it drained from you, told you everything you needed to know about how injured she was, and you quickly reached into your back pocket to retrieve a pill from the small box you kept with you at all times these days.   Izzy stared wide-eyed at you, while you fumbled with a paper-cup at her water-cooler, hands shaking with the sudden loss of strength. Then she suddenly sprung to life and came to help you fill the cup and down the pill.

  “Jesus Christ, girl, how were you even standing with all that damage?”

  “I… got used to it over time. He didn’t… start out that bad.”

  “They never do.”

  “Thank you. So much.”

  “Thank me by letting me beat the living hell out of that guy.”

  “You’d better not. But… maybe… you could ask one of the guys on the team to… talk to him?”

  “Are you serious? You wanna stay with him? No, honey, no amount of talking is gonna fix him.”

  “No, I meant like… talk him into not killing me for leaving him.”

  “Oh… Yeah. That I could probably do. Just give me his name and address.”

  You downed another pill, and started feeling better, while Izzy scribbled on a note for you. You took it and read it, and stuffed it down your other back pocket.

  “You should stay here tonight, just in case he decides to try anything. And call me if you need anything, Marcus and I are still living here, so we’re close, okay?”

  She seemed to hesitate about something.

  “What is it?”

  “Um… do you know Jack Daven?”

  “Who?”

  “He’s a kid who interns at the science division.”

  “Oh, Jackie. Yeah, unfortunately I do know who he is.”

  He was the kid you threw head-first into a wall.

  “I just… I think he might have something to do with your mole situation.”

  “What? Why would you think that?”

  “A while back, he came to me saying that science had sent him with some paperwork that needed to be signed, but when I looked at it, I realised that it was actually for research, and I told him that. And he laughed it off saying that he’d just made a mistake, but that didn’t seem very likely, because the forms he had were for release of testing materials. They wouldn’t send an errand-boy to retrieve those, they’re too dangerous. At the time I figured that maybe he’d been sent with an escort, for learning purposes, and that I just never saw them. But, now with the investigation, I think there might have been more to it than that. I was just too scared to... I didn’t know who to trust with it.”

  “You can always trust me. Thank you, Izzy, I’m so sorry that I ever thought of you as incompetent.”

  “Forgive me and I’ll forgive you.”

  “Done.”

  You ran full speed back to Ops, and almost collided with the automatic door to the control centre. Marcus was working at a station to the left, and smiled without looking up as he heard you. Anita was at the centre console, with her back to you.

  “Damned it, why do all automatic doors move so fucking slowly?”

  “Ah, I hear my future daughter-in-law has entered the premises.”

  “Shut it, Chocoreno.”

  “What did you just call me?”

  “Choco-reno, the clue’s in the name, máma.”

  “Ay, loco, today’s not a good day to test me.”

  “Why, does máma need a hug?”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Fine. How about some nice chocolate instead? I hear there might be some steep discounts on a couple of brands.”

  “Mujer… did you burst in here for a reason? Because if not, I’ll burst you right back out.”

  “Hah, I’d like to see you try.”

  She huffed.

  “As you wish.”

  You caught a glimpse of Marcus’ expression as it shifted from bemused to genuinely worried, when Anita turned and came towards you.

  “Mooom…”

  She ignored him and tried to grab you, but your ghost hands caught hers before she could make contact, and they were much stronger than your physical hands.   She definitely had super-strength, that much was obvious right away, and she wasn’t holding back. You could feel your strength begin to drain, so you changed tactics. You flooded the room with energy, and then drew it back to compact it all around yourself, creating that same kind of barrier that the Inventor hadn’t been able to break through, despite his genius belt-modification.   And then you just stood there, perfectly still to conserve energy, while she tried in vain to push you out of the room.

  “Mom, stop it, right now!”

  As her focus momentarily shifted towards Marcus, you saw the smile that played in her features. She was just having fun, testing your strength and flexing her own, whilst getting some frustration out of her system, knowing full well that you could take it.   Feeling certain she wouldn’t kill you for it, you grabbed the opportunity.   You let the wall of energy disappear as she was leaning against it with all her might, and as the barrier fell, so did Anita – right into your arms.   It was a bit like trying to catch a running bull, and the impact was certainly painful, but you ignored it and just hugged her to you.   She scrambled out of your grip, but you just smiled at her, because you knew she enjoyed every moment of it.

  “I have to say, I’ve never had to fight my way into a hug before.”

  “That wasn’t a hug, loco.”

  “Yes, it was, and you know it. Do you feel better now, or do you need another?”

  She was actually contemplating another round, which prompted Marcus to step in between you.

  “Do I have to remind both of you that you’re pregnant, hermosa? Playful or not, you’re not fighting each other again, now, tell me why you were moving so fast that the doors were too slow for you?”

   Oh, for fucks sake, why where you so easily distracted?

  “Right… We should probably talk in private. Considering the fact that it’s only been two hours since we sat in your office looking at houses – a hell of a lot’s happened.”

  He led the way towards the door, and you shot a look at Anita, over your shoulder.

  “Raincheck on that hug?”

  “I’ll boogie with you anytime, loco.”

  “That’s how you boogie? And you call me ‘loco’.”

  “Oh, yes. You’ve earned that one, many times over.”

 Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villain Headcanons

Topic: This is an extension of the last Jason Oneshot ^^ The rest of the horror movie villains react to their S/O telling them someone at work asked them out and she thought about saying yes.

Warnings: Seriously bad language in some reactions. Like, disgusting. Also some M rated suggestions 

Notes:

I’m feeling like Jason took it extremely well for a Slasher… aha

I’m so sad that our boys Buckman, Drayton and Hoyt don't have gifs!!

~~~

Billy Loomis: 

·         Well, Billy’s a bit of a hot head… or a lot.

·         The guy who asked you out will probably be dead. Most likely.

·         And you’ll get the cold shoulder for an hour or two, because man. He’s hurt, that you would consider leaving him for some better life. You’re just like his mother, and this asshole who asked you out is just like Maureen Prescott. In his head, this just legitimises his murderous actions even more and makes him even worse.

·         In this scenario, keeping it to yourself would have probably bene better.

·         Eventually though, the fog will lift and he’ll remember that he needs you. He’ll come over and wrap his arm around you, nuzzling your face, and threaten you that if you ever do anything like that to him again, or even look in the direction of another man they will be cut down and he will make you watch.

·         Boy’s a little bit yandere.

Bubba Sawyer: 

·         Bubba’s mind flies right over the part where another guy asked you out and sticks to the part here you thought about saying yes. He doesn’t care about this other guy, he doesn’t know him. He cares about his people, and you are his person. He wonders, why would you do that? Why aren’t you totally happy with him and his brothers and grandpa?

·         His eyes will get watery, and he’ll just watch you and listen to you holding onto every word that comes out of your mouth until you’re done. Imagine that, for a moment. Telling Bubba, with his big, teary brown eyes (I’m assuming their brown, I can’t tell) that another man asked you on a date and you nearly said yes and left him. Imagine that, and tell me, could you do it???

·         Hell no. With his little fidgeting, and his fat bottom lip sticking out, and his whines? No! No! No, no, no, no!

·         So, quickly, bundle him up in a hug and tell him you were being silly, and you love him!

(Mayor) Buckman: 

·         Depends, was it a citizen of pleasant Valley? Or was it a passing stranger? Because if its one of their victims then there won’t be as many long-term consequences like their will be if it were one of his residents. His family.

·         See, if you’re dating the mayor, everyone will know. Especially this mayor, because he has a taste for flare and he sure as hell introduces you as his consort every chance he gets. Which means passers by and residents alike are well aware who you are and who you ‘belong to’ (He wouldn’t put it that way, but its clear.).

·         If it was a victim, he’ll make a show of their death- even more then usual. If it was a resident, they’ll get a warning and he’ll never entirely trust them again. He’ll always bring it up from then on, too. Embarrassing you, and them. Refers to them as an almost-thief and whatever other nasty insulting name that he feels at the time.

·         But either way, he’ll be the same about your part in his heartbreak. Betrayed, but willing to forgive because you’re ‘Just so darn cute!’.

·         He will guilt trip you a lot though when its mentioned, but if you’re able to sit him down and talk about it maturely with him, and explain your side of the story, then he’ll calm down and forgive you. ‘It’s forgotten, darlin’. I’m sorry for acting immaturely.’

Carrie White:

·         Surprisingly, Carrie doesn’t immediately get upset and act like Bubba did. I mean, of course she feels bad. Its not a nice thing to hear from the person you’re in love with, that they nearly left you for something else! But, she thinks about your side of this as well.

·         She guesses, she understands where you came from. It would be easier for you to love someone normal… not like her… It would be nicer for you. She gets it.

·         She keeps the wounded look off her face, for your benefit.

·         “But… “She’ll say then. And explain her side of this. That she loves you so much, and understands that it would be easier for you and just wants you happy. But she would be really happy herself, if what would make you happy is to be with her.

·         It’ll be such a relief for her if you take her hands say that’s the conclusion you came to. One of those adorable, real smiles will grace her face.

Chop Top Sawyer: 

·         “WhhhaaaaaaaAAaAaaat???”

·         “Let me at him! Let! Me! At! HIM! Show me where he’s at, I should- “

·         You will need to stop him from storming your place of work with a face on a stick that’s on fire (Bubba balling behind him, because that’s his face!!), fists blazing and bouncing all over the place if you want to explain. Goddamnit, Chop Top’s gotta stand up for himself, and his woman! This will not do??!!

·         “Chop Top- Chop! Stop it a second, I- Chooop! I nearly said yes!”

·         That make shim halt in place. Only for a second though, before he drops his fists and turns to you in confusion. “Wat?”

·         “But… then… I realise, I love you. And I was being stupid, and- well, that’s it. I love you.”

·         “Awww, I love you too! That’s okay then!!”

·         Prepare yourself, because otherwise the force of Chop’s lung cuddle will send you both crashing into one of Nubbins bone sculptures.

·         Chop Top is pretty light hearted about the whole thing XD

Chucky/Charles Lee Ray (We’re assuming he’s human in this. Whether that be in man or woman form. And I’m sorry if I overuse this gif, I just love it XD): 

·         Some stupid guy asking you out is one thing, but you considering it??? That’s a direct attack on him and will be treated with prejudice.

·         “I must not be hearing right these days, doll, because I swear I just heard come out of your pretty little mouth that you considered leaving me for some castrated turd- or, he will be castrated, at least. Stay here.”  

·         I suggest you stay where you are because if you leave and he comes back to that after killing this to find you gone, he will find you, and he’ll be even more pissed. He’ll take that as an admission that you’re not in love with him anymore, and the situation will be handled much worse.

·         When he gets back, he will have the penis of the man who asked you out in a plastic zip lock bag and he’ll give it to you. Then hook a hand around the back of your neck and hold you firmly in place so that he can look down at you darkly and say: “Keep that as a reminder that I take great pleasure in sawing off any limb or body part off a person who tries to steal from me. I want you to be happy, sure, but having you is the point.”

·         For the rest of the night he’ll be pretty stiff and stay off to himself instead of hanging with you because, he didn’t say it but his feelings were hurt by this betrayal, but by the time the sun rises the next day he will have gotten over it, comforted by the fact that he has you for better or for worse now.

Drayton Sawyer: 

·         Drayton takes all this news in one gulp and just kinda… nods, says okay then, and leaves to continue his work. Out of it. Off with the fairies.

·         He doesn’t quite know what he could do about that. I mean, it’s good that you love him and you didn’t leave, but the fact that you thought about it still feels terrible. Especially since he doesn’t kill. He feels like he has no way of one upping you, or becoming even. He feels like the weaker part of the relationship, the one that has more to lose. Because clearly, you have options! He has… you.

·         He’ll be pretty quiet for the rest of the night and for a while after tat day he’ll act a bit off. Normal, you know. Doing things with you, and talking with you, and just being normal. But he’ll just a be a biiiiit off, because he knows he has so much more to lose, and he hates that feeling.

·         Eventually he’ll get over it, and feel better. But this has opened his eyes to that fact and its new to him! I mean, its not nice for anyone. But in his family, they all need each other They all play an equal part and even without that theirs blind loyalty involved. Here, he has to earn it and he suddenly feels very powerless, and in danger of losing you if one day you decide he isn’t enough.

Freddy Krueger: 

·         Similar to Chucky, he ‘wants you to be happy, but having you is the point’. He’s not above causing you an accident that puts you in a coma, so you stay with him all the time and you don’t have any other choices. Your smile is cute, but being with you trumps it all.

·         But this is only the first time, and you’ve told him that you realised you didn’t want that. You want him so his little perverted heart may give out, so he’ll let it go this once. He wont hold onto it and throw it in your face later or even use it to his advantage now.

·         He will kill the guy, though. There’s no way he won’t take the opportunity to kill someone.

Jennifer Check: 

·         “Well fuck you too then, bitch!”

·         Yeah… she may need a bit of time to cool down. She is hot. She graces you with her presence. How dare you stab her in the back like this. She thinks all this, and then she thinks that she should kill you. That no fuck buddy should be able to hurt her like this, but after she looks at you and assesses you… she knows she couldn’t.

·         But you don’t know that, and she’ll work with that.

·         Storming out, she’ll make you think that she’s so mad that she would kill you. Just so you’ll feel the fear for a time, which she’ll prolong as much as possible, going do her nails and toes and then get a delicious, boy flavoured meal as self-care.

·         Then, finally she’ll come back, and roll her eyes like she doesn’t know you took it seriously. Like it wasn’t her plan at all. “You really thought I would kill you? Don’t be dumb, come on! Let’s watch a movie- I pick, cuz you’re slutty ass hurt my feelings, k?”

(Sheriff) Hoyt/Charlie Hewitt: 

·         When he looks at you, slightly squinting like he does when he’s thinking, you think he’s going to kill you. That you never meant much to him and he’s going to turn you into dinner without blinking an eye for your betrayal- because what’s more important to Hewitt’s, then loyalty? Not much.

·         Also, Hoyts a twisted, backstabbing traitor himself so that also worries you a bit.

·         But then he just leaves the room, attitude in his eyes as he calls for Thomas to lock you away in your room and that he’s going to get dinner.

·         For a few stupid hours after that, hidden away in your room without your phone or laptop, you foolishly thing he’s going to withhold dinner from you as punishment.

·         But when he brings you in stew with a suspiciously familiar coloured eye as a sloppy garnish, and a tricky, twisted look on his face, you know what your punishment really is.

Michael Myers: 

·         Ohhh, no.

·         Boy’s dead.

·         That’s it.

·         You get no punishment, but this boy who asked you out is so dead. You just tell him what happened, and then he turns and leaves to get his new job done.

Patrick Bateman: 

·         It may be smart to tell him at work, so he can’t really flip out… trap him in the confines of social standards.

·         It won’t stop him from freaking out on you later, in the safety of your own home, but it will allow you a few more hours of crippling worry- or enough time to leave the country. You know, depending on how you word the whole thing to him.

·         A deep breath in through his nose, teeth grit. “I’ll cancel our dinner reservations.” His eyes flicker from yours, to everyone else in the office. He steps closer to you, and whispers. “Go home, don’t you dare eat anything or turn on the TV. Tie yourself up, and wait for me. And don’t let me catch you dressed, fucking whore.”

·         See, he’s had to come up with different ways to punish you when he’s mad, seeing as he cares for you. So really kinky, borderline (Sometimes not even borderline.) torturous sex will have to do. You never get to finish. And the rope is not safe, sex shop brand rope.

Pennywise (OG): 

·         I’m sorry, why should he care that a weak, unimportant mortal man asked you out? Its not like he would ever have succeeded, even if you hadn’t made the right decision and said no. He would have found you and gotten you back, no matter what.

·         You are his adorable little human, who he is prepared to fight for -not that that is what would ever happen here. He’s not going to waste energy fighting a mortal man when he can just take you back, easy, - and you will not get away so easily.

·         Basically, in this relationship, freewill is a fantasy. You are entirely and utterly owned by him. Like a pet.

Stu Macher: 

·         “You, what… really??”

·         Well, first of all, he would fight this boy. Killing him doesn’t really occur to him, because he likes to keep his romantic life and his murder life separate but he definitely wants to throw a punch or two!

·         Second of all, why would you want that!???

·         “Do you not like me, anymore?? Babe, baby, come on! What’d I do to deserve that!”

·         Honestly, he makes it out like it would have been better if you hadn’t told him. He thinks you’re mad at him and are trying to tell him you have options, by being honest and telling him this. No one has ever claimed he’s the sharpest knife in the drawer.

·         You’ll get lots of cuddles and snuggles because he wants you to know how much he loves you. But that’s not really new.

Thomas Hewitt: 

·         Deep breaths. Watch his chest rise and fall like he’s trying really hard not to get mad, which he is.

·         But, mostly, he reacts like Jason. Hears you out, because what else can he do? Luda taught him not to walk away from a person in the middle of a conversation.

·         Once you’re done, he thinks. Still with the very deep breaths.

·         He thinks how he trusts you, and what you say must be true. But then if you thought about leaving, then something has to be wrong, right?

·         As you continue to explain to him, slightly more panickily, that you love him and it was a momentary lapse in judgement that didn’t even really do anything but you’re telling him anyway, because you love him and you want him to trust you, he slowly starts to clam down.

·         Eventually, her brings you into a hug to stop your panicking. His breaths have returned to a normal rate, and he vows to try and forget it.

[fangirlings-things]

He's just too much

Requested by @yulianaxm26

A/N: let me know if you guys want a part 2, because I definitely have some ideas

Pairings: Michael Gray x reader

Warnings: a few curse words

Summary: Michael Gray is just too much for (Y/N) to not fall in love with him

Word count: 1884

Part. 2 Part. 3 Part. 4

"Polly?" You called the woman while entering her house, to which you had the front door keys. Looking around at the familiar place, you realized there was only one light up at that time of the night. It was the living room's. 

Walking in that direction, you entered the room and your eyes came fo fall upon Michael, who was sitting at the wooden table near the fireplace, smoking while his eyes were focused on the carpet and he did a thing you had seen your friend Tommy do a few times. The french inhale, the act of putting the smoke you produced inside your body. It made you instinctively look at Michael's lips as the smoke disappeared through them and you couldn't deny, that it was a sexy thing to watch. 

"She's not here" Michael raised his eyes until yours and for a moment, you two just looked at each other.

The truth was, you liked to look at Michael. Just look at him. Admire his hair, his jaw, the way his muscles tensed under his shirts when he was worried or had something bothering him. He was a beautiful man, you always said to yourself when you found yourself staring too intensely at him. But he's off limits, you had to remind right away after. When you accepted Tommy's offer and started to work for the Shelby's, becoming a Peaky Blinder, you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn't get involved with no one in that family. You loved all of them like you were a Shelby yourself, but the thought of getting romantically involved with those people made you shiver. They were always in danger, fighting against an enemy. The thought of losing the person you loved the most, would probably destroy you. So no, the best to do was stay away from that kind of relationship.

And that plan did just fine for a few years. You considered Arthur, John, Tommy and Finn your brothers and never desired any of them. But then, Michael Gray came along and it all changed. He was just too much. Too much for you to handle without falling for him. The way he smiled and would occasionally laugh while with John, the way he seemed interested in bussiness and willing to help his cousins in whatever they needed. He had never showed you interest or any kind of signs that would indicate that he wanted you too, but a girl could dream. And that was what you did whenever you were around him. 

"Well, I'll have to come back tomorrow then. Good night, Michael" You turned around and was decided to walk away, when he made you stop with his deep voice, that came to surface again and entered your ears like the sweetest melody you've ever heard. 

"Is everything ok, (Y/N)?" Turning back to stare at him, you saw that he was examining your expression for something to be wrong, like he had noticed that you were more agitated then usual. But he couldn't have noticed that, you thought with a sight. He doesn't even pay attention to you. 

And for as sad as it would be for you to admit, it was true. Of course, he had never ignored you. If you talked to him or he had to speak with you about bussiness he would do it, sometimes would even give you a small smile or throw you a glance from across the room in a meeting, but he never started a conversation. Never came to drink with you at The Garisson even when all the other boys did. It was like he didn't want to be around you, and you accepted that. You kept your distance, like you were supposed to do. But now you were alone in a house with him like you had never been before, and you could feel your legs go weaker just at the thought of that. 

"Yes" You said probably too quickly, because the look on his face only got more intrigued. "I just came to...ahn, to..." You tried to think fast about an excuse for being there, but your mind went blank. It was like you couldn't think when he was staring at you like that. Like you were his only focus and he had only you in his mind. 

"You're lying to me" He stated to himself, a look in his eyes that you had never seen before. It was almost like he was angry at the thought of you lying to him. With only a movement of his hand, he threw his cigar on a cinder-box that was on the table and got up, walking straight to you. When he stopped, only a few centimeters away from you, you saw that it wasn't anger in his eyes. It was sadness. He looked more hurt than you had ever seen. "You never stumble or hesitate to talk about stuff. I've seen you multiple times with Jon and Tommy. You say things right away to them. Why are you lying to me?"

You had to repress a gasp when you heard those words and saw the expression on his face. He looked devastated, and you didn't know what to do, how to act. You had just hurt the man you were in love with and didn't even realize it. Too confused and shocked, you didn't even processed the fact that he had just admited to watch you talk to his cousins. He had watched you. After all, he did actually pay attention.  

"Michael, I'm not lying to you, I'm... concealing some things" You argumented, trying to find the right words to say. All you wanted, was to take that hurt off of his face. More than anything. 

"What are those things?" his look was intense, you barely could support it. When you turned your eyes away from him, his hand came to your chin and he made you stare at him again. In the place he touched you, for the first time ever willingly, you felt chills of pure bliss. His touch was soft, almost caring. "Tell me what's troubling you, (Y/N)"

"I-I came to ask for your mother's advice" You afirmed, realizing that he wouldn't take no for an answer. And even if he did, you wouldn't be able to walk away. Not in that moment, where he had his hand resting on your face.  

"About what?" He asked, noticing that you were keeping something else from him. After that question, you holded your breath in. You couldn't tell him. The consequences could be catastrophic. "Tell me, darling" he insisted and right then and there, hearing he call you that, you lost it. You didn't care about what would happen afterwards. Not in that special moment. 

"About a guy" You shilly answered and almost immediately, you could see his body tense up. Sighting heavily, Michael took his hand off of your face and walked away, stopping near the fireplace, where he fixed his eyes. 

"I see" Was all he said. Looking at his back, you could see that his muscles were more defined than before under his shirt. His jaw was clenched and his hands, once very gentle, had now turned into fists. 

You didn't know why he was acting like that. Like he was sad about hearing about your love life; or actually realising that you desired one. Since the day you meet him, not for once he had showed you any resemblance of interest. You always thought, that he didn't like you very much. So why?

"Michael, did I do something wrong?" You asked feeling completely insecure, confused and embarrassed about what you had just admited. You were a grown young woman, the fact that you were going to ask Polly for advice in that subject, made you feel kinda ashamed about what he was going to think of you. Him, Michael Gray, the guy who could probably have anyone he ever wanted in his bed. 

Michael let out a small laugh, that didn't had any humor in it. It was a dark laugh, an unsatisfied one. "No, you didn't (Y/N)" And after that phrase, said in a harsh tone, you realized that the Michael from moments ago, the one who touched your face and seemed to care had disappeared. He was the usual Michael again; the cold and distant one, who you couldn't reach. "I think you should leave" He continued and that made you gasp and feel a slight anger ignite in your bones. 

"So you tell me to be honest with you and then you kick me out?" You left yourself explode, tired of having those feelings for a guy who was so inconsistent as he. "What the actual fuck, Michael?" 

"Just go, (Y/N). I don't have nothing to say to you" He stated firmly, and you felt your heart hurt after hearing that. Feeling disappointed and frustrated, you tried your best to keep those emotions under control. 

"Go fuck yourself, Michael" You mumbled under your breath before turning around and starting to make your way towards the front door. 

Apparently he heard you, because a few seconds later when you were just about to leave the room, you felt his hand clench on your forearm and without any effort, because he was much more stronger than you were, he had you pinned against the nearest wall, his body keeping you steady in place. 

"What did you just say to me?" There was anger in his voice again. You could feel it in his grip. You could see it in his eyes. And sincerely, you didn't care. Because you were angry at him too. If he snapped, you would too. 

"I said go fuck yourself, Michael" You repeated all the words slowly, so he could hear and remember every last one of them. You saw his eyes flick to your lips only for a second while you talked and then, he did the most unexpected thing he could do, in that moment or in any other one. He kissed you. 

His lips were harsh on yours, the kiss almost hurting because of all the strength and anger he putted in it. When you gasped, completely surprised, he putted his tongue inside your mouth and you could taste the smoke on him. You're didn't like smoking, but coming from him, that taste seemed intoxicating. Made you wish to feel it forever. His hand that was on your forearm slided to your hair when you started to kiss him back, and he tugged on it while still kissing you harshly like his life depended on it. 

When you were completely out of breath he disconnected his mouth from yours, straring at your eyes deeply and with so much desire, so much want, that you felt in pure ecstasy. 

"Michael..." You started, still in shock about what he had just did. 

He, surprising you for what should be the hundredth time on that night, didn't say anything, just sighted and started to walk away. You wanted to stop him. To tell him that you loved him and he was the guy you were going to ask Polly for advice about. But when you heard the front door bang, you realized that he was gone. 

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 2x08 Get Carter!

This is actually one of my favourite episodes of the season, partly because I really enjoy relationship angst, but mostly because we get multiple characters dealing with their trauma/grief. If we can't get these guys and gals into therapy, at least we get to see them talk (and hug) it out.

Also the best episode title they're had for a while - I have no doubt one of the writers is a fan, and Carter is so named only because they wanted to make this reference. The assassin seeking revenge for a dead brother is wholesale lifted from the plot of the film, and Joseph Kennedy almost has a passing resemblance to Michael Caine's look in that role.

"Get Carter - before Carter gets you!"

Carter is one of the only guest stars they actually will bring back later, and for good reason.

"Why don't you ever kiss my ring?" Vaisey, always making things creepy.

Marian is simmering with unrestrained anger, eager to get into the fight, while Robin is the one advocating for the watch and see approach, and it’s quite the role reversal.

The gang's reaction to her charging off is quite funny though, she knocks John over completely and Djaq throws her hands in the air.

Robin’s now getting a taste of what the rest of the gang have to put up with dealing with his recklessness.

Tying Marian up in the middle of a melee, however, is disgusting behaviour - while Marian was hot-headed throwing herself into the fight (nothing Robin hasn't done before himself), he knows that she can hold her own with a sword and doesn't need protecting. Tying her hands is the absolute worst thing he could have done, because how is she meant to defend herself? I can somewhat understand where Robin is coming from in this episode (even if he goes about it badly), but this is unjustifiable.

Clearly she gave that guard she clanked on the head amnesia, because he never reports back that Marian was fighting with the gang.

“I owe you my life”/“I won’t take it just yet.” Nice.

Scimitar is still missing in action.

Robin doesn’t want Marian to be seen in case she needs to return to the castle, when he’s spent the whole season urging for her to join the gang. I think he realises he made a mistake asking her to flee last episode without giving her time to deal with her grief, and wants to leave her options open. But telling her that she’s not ready to make the decision (about whatever she wants to go back), however correct, is patronising.

There's a fundamental conflict that Marian wants to be treated like a member of the gang, but doesn't want to cede to Robin's authority like the rest of the gang - in turn Robin expects her to follow his orders like the others, but isn't treating her like he would the others either - he would never tie them up to keep them out of a fight, and Marian has every right to pissed at him about it.

Djaq and Much having a little tête-à-tête about Carter - I just really enjoy that they’re often paired together in these gang scenes, they balance/play off each other so well. Just this pure platonic frazzled vs calm vibe.

Much just has this really great memory for faces - he was able to recognise fake Richard last season just from his profile despite wearing a helmet, and now he knows he remembers Carter's face from somewhere (or as it will turn out, Carter's brother).

Much really just does not let up, and I love that about him. "You'll be disappointed though, with uh, today's wound. I mean if you're planning to go back to the Holy Land and, uh, kill him." That not so subtle probing for information and Sam Troughton's delivery is always perfect.

"Wasn't me, was it?" Oh Much, so close.

“The crusty one” - lol

It's not explicit, but implied that Vaisey and Guy believe Edward was the one passing information to Robin, and Marian is cleared of any suspicion (paving the way for her return). Guess Guy never showed the Sheriff that hair dagger after all.

Vaisey is actually giving Guy some really good advice here, albeit laced with his usual cruelty and getting all up in Guy's personal space.

"Grow up Gisborne" - now I don't think it's deliberate on Vaisey's part to invoke a Marian parlance, seeing as she really only says this to Robin (and once to Much), but it's a nice little callback, however unintentional.

Marian asks for an apology (and deserves one), but Robin doubles down and doesn't come out of this exchange well.

Because his delivery is terrible, but he's otherwise quite correct - as skilled as Marian is, she’s used to relying on (and having to worry about) only herself and not work in a team, and look to a single point of command. But both of them have their backs up - they're two strong personalities and neither is going to give ground, reverting to the ideological clashes of season 1, except now in much closer quarters.

Robin's also not used to being challenged in this particular way, and in his frustration is reacting like a captain disciplining a soldier, not a lover helping their partner through their grief. I do wonder if the conversation would have gone differently if they'd been alone.

lol at the gang awkwardly standing around listening to Robin and Marian fight. Djaq trying to busy herself with her mortar and pestle as Robin and Marian argue around her.

A really great scene between Marian and John aka the camp dad. Marian really just needs someone to listen to her and appreciate what she's going through - Robin is too fixated on the dangerous way she's channeling her grief and not even trying to address the root cause. He trying to tell her what to do, not listen to what she actually needs.

On the other hand it's probably better coming from John, a neutral party without the emotional baggage she has with Robin.

Because Robin and Marian are really being driven by completely different motives - Marian by grief and therefore loss, and Robin by trauma and therefore fear. In her sorrow, Marian has lost all her fear of being discovered, in fact she wants to make it know she's with the gang, to finally be free to say which side she's on and fight openly, to make her father's death worthwhile, and can't understand why Robin is trying to stifle that.

"I thought you used to have your own men Little John?" So someone remembers Forrest and Hanton!

After Carter takes down the gang one by one, Robin takes down Carter in three seconds (including catching the long dagger Carter throws at him, and flinging it back) and it's lights out. Can you believe it's the first concussion of the season? (Notwithstanding the multiple head injuries Allan sustained last episode).

While Marian has been known to be punch-happy, the "he'll tell us more if he knows we're willing to hurt him" is just so (intentionally) out of character - it is however somewhat reminiscent of Robin in 1x08, wanting to get his punch and torture on with Guy. However rather than understanding where Marian is coming from, he pushes her away with the "go and cook something" jibe. This almost feels like he was going for familiar banter and miscued, but is also an asshole thing to say. When their positions were reversed in 1x08 Marian at least tried to reason with him - Robin is seems to be ill-equipped to do the same.

Allan just having a little snooze against the castle wall. He really seems defeated and depressed after last episode.

Marian's corset has a pouch to hold a dagger - or at least I hope there is because otherwise it's ouch time.

Leaving Marian at the camp is again a mistake on Robin's part - it excludes and isolates her from the gang, rather than trying to involve her so she can bond with them, engaging in their outreach to the peasants - who she helped as the Nightwatchman, but never really had the opportunity to come to know. It would remind her that they are not just fighting against the Sheriff but for the people, which in her frenzied grief she has perhaps lost sight of.

Instead, Robin's focus is on Carter, who he rather identifies with and so finds it easier to address his motives, and try and change them.

Carter is in many ways Robin’s dark mirror, what he could have become in the Holy Land if he chose a different path. It’s important that this happens right when Robin is backsliding - he’s trying to save his own soul as much as Carter’s.

Okay, let's talk about Marian’s forest gear - fashioned from the outfit she wore when she fled the castle the previous episode - but dear me it's awful. The grey culottes, rather than becoming trousers have now been turned into that corset, and her vest/skirt overlay have now become those trousers. Just baffling.

“I’m good with nuns” followed by Allan straight up knocking the Mother Superior over and stealing her ring is iconic.

Much gives Robin a sword to use going after Carter - still no scimitar.

I really love the confrontation/fight scene between Robin and Carter - it's very well choreographed and written, but we also see the best of Robin's character (after seeing some of the worst earlier).

Carter's brother is called Thomas - Allan's brother was called Tom. Lots of dead brothers in this show (including Djaq's).

The story of Carter's brother Thomas dying because he "stopped listening" and led a raid against orders is a little on the nose, but gives context to Robin’s fear for Marian’s safety in part triggered by his war trauma - someone charging in against orders and then dying in his arms.

But it shows Robin as a man who, even when Thomas' recklessness had cost not only his own life but others of Robin's men, was still moved to instruct the stretcher-bearers to make Thomas the hero, and himself the negligent captain, in order to comfort his family.

The fight is fairly even, and although Robin gets the upper hand in the end, it's only partly his skill - rather his true strength is in reaching the man inside the assassin, and then surrender and allow Carter to take his revenge if that's what he wants, and despite his fear, trust that there is good still in him, and that he can leave behind the life as a killer as Robin has done (tried to do).

This scene is the core of why I really love Robin as a character. He's riddled with PTSD and a reckless bravado, he's at time emotionally stunted with those he loves, makes terrible mistakes and often says the wrong thing, but he also has this great heart and compassion that allows him to reach people, to understand and help them, even at the risk of his own life. He's trying.

"He was a hero - just not on that day" is quite a poignant line.

Much and Djaq together again, just saying.

Robin finally finds out that Roger of Stoke was intercepted. I had assumed he'd figured that out once he knew Allan was a traitor but okay.

Poor Much crying out for Robin's attention - he's got his own trauma from the war and wants to talk about it, to commiserate with Robin about what they went though, but Robin can only cope by not talking about it, not even thinking about it.

Much makes a good point that Robin should have listened to him about recognising Carter, but it comes across as jealously over Marian and Robin misses just how deeply Much carries his hurt.

One of Robin's biggest flaws is that he's overwhelming in his affection, compassion, and understanding for strangers, but takes those he loves for granted - Carter's response to grief was the same as Marian's, but Robin listened to Carter, consoled and comforted him, while keeping Marian at arm's length. Perhaps because strangers don't ask for anything beyond that - it is the granting of kindness, but not the sharing of self. It's the latter Robin truly fears, but what Much and Marian deserve (although tbf Marian has problems with this as well).

“Either I’m part of your gang or I’m not” is a valid point, and Robin's still not happy even when she agrees to stay behind!

But she disobeys him, and saves his life. It's a rite of passage - almost all of the members of the gang have this.

Allan looking rather distressed as Guy is about the chop off Robin's head, and he makes a small movement just before the swing (as does Much).

Guy again pushing Marian past the point of discomfort - she left, wrote him a letter asking him to leave her alone, straight up told him to his face to leave her alone, and still he persists.

Her kissing Guy (to distract him from seeing Much and Will) is really the only time she sends mixed signals, but Guy's whole energy seems to be just to wear her down until she agrees to be with him and it's gross. It is however kind of amusing that he tries to be authoritative and forbid her from leaving, and she immediately walks away.

Robin and Marian are back in playful banter mode, although I wish there had been a deeper discussion (and that Robin had apologised in return). It doesn't quite feel like the conflict between them has been resolved, it really is just a "truce".

But I do like that it's Marian who reaches out to Robin at the end of this episode, because up until this point it's Robin who has been (somewhat) the one making overtures - asking her to join the gang, telling her he needs her, telling her he loves her, while Marian's been more reserved. This feels like her acknowledging that sometimes she needs to take the first step.

This was a long one - but as a I said, I really love this episode!