#no but actually the worst thing they’ve ever done is continue to lie about this coming back

[writer-by-the-sea]

Um, hi! I'm new and I really like your works!

I want to make a request for Haley and Penny (separate) if that's okay with you!

Scenario: how would they react when they find out that their s/o, the farmer, used to be a member of the Mafia? A hitman to be exact, but they've changed and left that life behind.

I don’t think I’ve ever done a full on headcanon before, but I figured why not! 

Instead of doing mini fics for only two characters, I am going to attempt to write these thoughts into a slightly coherent but readable mess. WARNING: These do not all end happily. Some are very heavy angst and they break up with you.

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“There’s… something I need to tell you,” the farmer began, rubbing the back of their neck while they looked away from the person in front of them. Someone that they’ve come to love, to trust enough to finally open up to, and someone who might understand.”Before moving to Stardew… I was... Part of a very bad crowd,” they pause and take a deep breath. “Not just a little group of delinquents that spray paint the side of buildings.

“Something.. Far worse. I know that you might view me differently because of this but– I want you to know who I truly am. I never want to lie to you, and while I wanted to keep this secret buried deep inside; I care about you too much to allow you to continue dating me without knowing… 

“I was a hired killer, an assassin, a hitman.” 

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Alex

“Hey, man, you don’t have to lie to me to look cool,” Alex laughed and gave you a thumbs up. “You’re already really cool in my book.” 

You grimace before saying, “Alex, I’m not lying.” 

“Oh,” he breathes out. A minute passes, the gears turning in his head as he thinks it over. “Ohhh.” 

“Yeah, oh,” you reply. “I understand if you need some space–” 

Alex leaned back into his bed, letting himself land softly on his back. “Gramps has killed a few guys, so I’m not really worried about it.” 

You look down at him and raise a single brow, “Wasn’t that in war though?” 

“It was, but it’s the same thing, isn’t it?” 

“Not.. really.” 

Alex shrugs and sighs, “if you asked him for stories, he would spend the rest of the day telling you every single bloody detail. I’ve heard them all a thousand times.” He sat up, dropping her face to a sneer and pulled his lips back. “During that war,” he began, perfectly mimicking his grandfather. “I killed fitty men! I collected their earlobes and wore them around my neck like a trophy!” 

You laughed, bumping your shoulder into Alex. “Okay, that’s a little fucked up actually.” 

“You haven’t even heard the worst of it,” he answered with a grin. “He likes to tell this story about the time they had to go save some guy–”

“Wait,” you cut him off, gently placing your fingertips against his lips to stop him. “I just.. I want you to know that I love you, and that all of that shit is in the past… but I understand if you want nothing to do with me after this.” 

Alex pushed your hands away with his lips, laughing again as he pulled back. “It’s alright, I get it. Just don’t keep anything else from me, okay?” 

You nodded and pulled him into your arms, giving him a good squeeze. “I promise.” 

Alex slid out of your arms and ran to his bedroom door, swinging it open before playfully glaring at you. “As punishment for not telling me in the first place!” He took a really deep breath filling his lungs before shouting “Grandpa! The farmer wants to hear all your war stories!” 

Alex wasn’t scared of you. Afterall, nothing you’ve done could ever compare to the stories he grew up with. He knew his grandpa regretted the choices he made, but sometimes, you have to do cruel things to survive. 

Elliott

Elliott quickly grabbed his wine, downing the glass in one huge gulp before placing it back onto the table. “What you’re telling me,” he whispered, his gaze focused on the empty wine glass. “You’re being truthful? This isn’t a jest?” 

“No,” you answered, scooting your chair closer to his. “Just.. I know you’re in shock right now, but please just give me a chance to explain–”

“This is wonderful news!” Elliott jumped up from his chair, darting to a notebook that lies open with scribbles across the pages. He sprinted back, throwing himself back into the chair as harshly it nearly toppled over with him in it. “Tell me, what does another man’s eyes look like as you choke the life out of him?” 

“W-what?” you stammered, glancing down at the notebook that was now on the table where Elliott held his quill above it, ready to write. “Are you trying to get a confession from me?” 

“Heavens no!” He replied with a laugh, putting his quill down and turning to grab your hands. “My next novel is a murder mystery! I would love to have your feedback.” 

“You’re kidding,” you replied, your mouth hanging open. 

“Not at all, my love!” Elliott smiled so brightly, you would have thought you just told him his book had a million sales; not that you used to kill people for a living. “It truly is destiny that we were to meet!” 

“Do… Are you okay with my past?” 

“Ah,” Elliott nodded, understanding now why you seemed so hesitant with your words. “We all have our demons, don’t we, darling? If I were ever to judge every person I knew by the skeletons in their closet.. Well, life wouldn’t be very fun, now would it?” 

“I’m…” you tried to focus, confusion swirling in your head making everything foggy and hard to follow. “What?” 

Elliott was already back to his notebook, licking the pad of his thumb while he flipped through the pages. “This part here,” he held the book out to you, the page filled with brainstorms and more messy scribbles. “Could you fact check it for me? I honestly don’t know what a man sounds like when he gets stabbed like this. Also, the shoulder would be a good spot for them to survive from a stab, right?” 

You laughed, shaking your head at this ridiculous man. “Well, actually, there’s a main artery that going along the shoulder–” 

Part of you wasn’t surprised that Elliott was excited to discuss bloody, brutal, cold murder with you. Although, the writer did make a point the next day to scold you for keeping the secret from him. He could have finished his novel even sooner, and… he could have told you how much he loves you and would never give you up. 

In fact, he would help you get away with murder. 

Harvey

“No,” Harvey stood abruptly, his knee hitting his kitchen table and nearly knocking his coffee over, the hot liquid jumping out of the mug and onto the table. “Shoot!” he cried as the coffee landed on some of his folders that were spread out. 

You joined him in grabbing napkins, trying to clean the coffee before it caused too much damage. 

“I can’t believe this,” he whispered as he tossed the dirty napkins aside, uncaring of where they would land. “Not you, not my farmer, no…” 

You pressed your lips together, trying to hold back your emotions. “Harvey–” 

Then he broke before you, a sob ripping through his throat right before he began sobbing. His glasses getting wet and foggy as he let each tear slide down his cheeks. “Not you…” 

“Please, I just–” 

Harvey straightened up, taking a deep breath and forced himself to meet your eyes. “I have dedicated my whole life to helping those who need it. I took an oath to assist any single soul that cries for help. If a patient dies on my table, I have to live with that for the rest of my life. The rest of my life knowing that I couldn’t do enough for them!” 

Your eyes widen, dread filling you as you realize this is the end. “Harvey, please–” 

“Get out,” he growled, his voice deep, dangerous, and oozing with hatred. 

“Let me explain–” 

“For you to come to me, and tell me that you took human lives for your own gain? I don’t need to hear another word,” Harvey took a step towards you, his body tensing, preparing to fight you if he must. “Get the fuck out of my home.”

Everything in you wanted to stay, to fight for what you had… 

You left, crying on your way back to the farm, your heart shattered beyond repair. 

Sam

“For real?” Sam's face scrunched in disbelief. “No, you’ve gotta be joking. Ain’t no way the hot farmer killed some dudes.” 

While your hands may have been tough from constantly working in the dirt, Sam could never imagine in a million years that you would kill a fly on the wall, let alone another human being!

“Is it April Fool’s? It is, isn't it?” he joked and nudged you. “Well, you got me–” 

“Sam,” you breathed out in reply, the truth hanging between you. 

“Holy shit,” Sam stood slowly, taking a step back from you. “You’re serious? You’ve actually killed people?” 

“Yes.” 

“Dude…” he ran a hand through his wild hair, not caring how the gel stuck to his fingers. 

He needed more information, but right now, he needed to make one thing clear. 

“Look,” he started and made his way back to you, dropping himself on his mattress next to you. “Like, I’m not gonna dump you over this; but keeping that from me was seriously not cool.” 

“I know,” you mumbled in reply and offered a weak smile. “I just–” 

Sam raised a hand, cutting you off. “No, we’re gonna talk about this later, after we’ve both had some pizza, and maybe a couple… or an entire case of beer. You’re gonna break all this shit down for me, and then we’re gonna talk about how you’re doing like.. Mentally. After doing all that shit.” 

“Mentally?” you asked with a laugh. “What--” 

“Nope,” Sam stood and grabbed your hand. “Pizza first, you asshole. I can’t believe you killed people, so fucking weird.” 

Sam was in it for the long run, and while he viewed you differently (as like, a cold blooded killer what the fuck,) he wasn’t going to give up on you just because of a dark past. 

Sebastian

“I mean, who hasn’t?” 

Your head whips up to stare back at Sebastian, not sure you just hear those words correctly. “Wait–” 

“You think I haven’t killed a man? Why do you think I hide out in the basement coding shit all day instead of living in the city and making a fortune? Be realistic.” 

“Sebastian, I–” 

“No, it’s cool. I really don’t care,” he said with a shrug and went back to typing on his computer. 

“Well, no, wait; Sebastian that’s a lot to drop on someone–” 

“Hey, I wasn’t a fucking hitman though now was I?” 

“I don’t know, were you?!” 

He shrugs again, reaching for an open pack of cigarettes and lights one up. He takes a deep drag and then blows it out slowly. “I’m gonna go get some leftover pumpkin soup, I made it last night, you want some?” 

You just stare back at him, your jaw hanging open. Now you were the one that needed more information! 

But, you supposed that could wait. Pumpkin soup was on the line, afterall. 

Shane

He takes a sip of his soda, savoring the flavor and bubbles before putting his can back down on the kitchen table. 

“So,” he began, forcing himself to sit up straight and meet your eyes. 

“Are you here to kill me then?” 

“What?” 

“Are you.. here, to kill me?” Shane asked again, slowly. 

“No!” you shouted and waved your hands in front of you like a white flag. “You’ve got the wrong idea!” 

“I’m not telling you how I made the chickens blue, you can beat me to the brink of death and I’ll never spill–” 

“Shane, babe, no– well actually how do you–” you stopped speaking as Shane glared at you and narrowed his eyes. “Nevermind the chickens, I’m not here to kill you.” 

“To kill Marnie then?” He asks. “To end the competition for milk and eggs? You make me sick,” he spit. 

“No, what? I turn all my milk into cheese to make you Pepper Poppers or Pizza–” 

“Then the eggs!” He declares and stands up, pointing a finger down where you sat. 

“Please, just listen to me,” you stood with him, on the verge of tears knowing that this could be the end–

Shane’s frown twitched, so quick you could almost miss it. 

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again. 

“Oh, I see. You came here to kill Willy, with your gaping fish mouth.” 

Any doubt or worries you had dropped instantly. “You’re totally fucking with me, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, I found your list of names a few months ago. You really shouldn’t leave that stuff lying around you know?” 

“Yoba,” you sighed in relief and dropped back into your chair, the wood lightly squeezing on the tiled floor. “Why didn’t you say anything?” You kept your head down, ashamed to have ever tried to hide this from him. 

Shane chuckled and sat back down, “I figured you’d tell me when the time was right.” 

You risked a glance at Shane, “do you hate me for it.” 

“Hate you? Of all people to hate someone for the mistakes they made in their past, you think I’m going to be one of them? I’m a little offended, farmer.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cracked a smile as he gazed at you, his eyes filled with all of the love and support in the world. 

He was right, Shane would never judge you for your past, just as you never judge him for his. The only thing that matters is the kind of person you are moving forward, and that suits him just fine. 

Abigail

The first thing she asks, with a wicked grin and excited eyes, “So, how many people did you kill?” 

While she knows the value of a human life, she could never allow her thoughts to wander towards ‘what if I killed someone?’ She feared she may pursue it herself. 

“What was your weapon of choice?” she would ask next, hardly containing the buzz flowing through her body from the quick high; knowing she was talking to (dating!) a certified badass killer. 

She does view you differently, however. 

Not as an evil person, as you might have expected; but someone strong enough to protect her, someone who told her this knowing that she might turn away from them, someone who loves her enough to put her first. 

The subject is sensitive, and she knows not to tease you too much or ask for too many details; but she does ask for the occasional story – if you’re willing to give it. 

Emily

She gasps, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as she stares back at you in horror. “W-what do you m-mean,” she stumbles over her words, her hands now shaking as she lowers them away from her face, trying to steady them as they rest in her lap. “You.. you actually, ki–” she can’t finish the sentence. 

“I did what I had to, to get by. Please understand that I’m not a bad person-” 

“You killed people,” she dropped her head and watched as tears fell into her lap. “You actually killed people…” 

“Emily–” 

“How can I trust you after this?!” She jumped up, still shaking while she paced around her room. “How can I know that you’re not withholding more?!” 

You stood and put your hands on her shoulders, holding her in place, but she refused to meet your eyes. “I swear to you, I will never hide something from you again… if you just give me a chance to prove myself.” 

Emily dropped her head onto your shoulder, softly sobbing and letting her tears drip onto your shirt. “You’re going to tell me everything.” 

“Okay,” you whispered back, your arms moving down to wrap around her. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” 

There would be a lot of trust issues moving forward, and Emily would keep you on a tight leash for a while; but she knew that not everyone was perfect, and while she might not like your past, she loves who you are now. And she’s not willing to give up yet. 

Haley

She looked up from her phone, her brow dropping down and her eyes narrowing, “Ew.” 

You tried not to snort a laugh at her reply, but failed miserably. “That’s all you have to say? Ew?” 

She rolled her eyes at you, “what else am I supposed to say? Oh no, please don’t kill me, super scary hitman?” 

“Uh,” you looked around you as if you could find the answer hovering in the air. “I’m.. not.. sure, honestly.” 

Another eyeroll. “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it’s worth. I’m still going to love you no matter what dumb shit you’ve done in your past. I mean, did you know that I dyed my hair black once? Also, ew. Total regret.” 

Bewildered, you plopped down beside her, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t care?” 

“Ugh. Of course I care,” she slapped you on the side and finally put her phone aside. “But you obviously regret it, like I did with the black hair, and while our past mistakes may have been huge; it doesn’t dictate who we are today. So, don’t worry about it.” 

“You realize you’re comparing black hair to the murder of a.. Lot of people?” 

“Babe,” she took a deep breath, staring deep into your eyes, begging you to understand… 

“I used a box dye. Tell me a worse crime than that.” 

You laughed together, her crime never coming close to your misdeeds, and she knew it. But after getting to know you, she knew she could continue to trust you just as she always has. 

Leah

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Leah threw her paintbrush at you, hitting you in the chest and leaving a splotch of yellow paint. “Not again!” 

“Again?!” you shouted back in shock. “What do you mean again!?”

“Tell me,” she hissed. “How many, what organization, and why the hell did you make me fall in love with you?!” 

“Leah,” 

“Do. Not. Leah. Me.” Each word spit in your direction. “Answer me.” 

You sighed, “it was a lot of people.. The organization was international and I never really knew who was in charge..” Closing your eyes, just to get away from her angry glare for a moment, you continued, “I never meant to mislead you. I wanted to tell you the truth to see if I even still stood a chance with you.” 

Leah relaxed, shaking her head before finding a place to sit down. “Thanks, for telling me, I guess.” 

Moving to her side, you kneeled next to her, taking her paint stained hands into your own. “Please, just give me a chance to make this up to you. I never wanted to hurt you.” 

“Yeah, well. You did,” she gently pulled her hands away, turning away from you. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can go through this again.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re never fully out of that life, farmer. That past will come back to haunt you one day, and I don’t think I have the strength to endure it.” 

“No, Leah, it’s over, I swear–” 

“Just leave, okay? I have a lot to think about.” 

Dejected, you do as you're told, stopping to say one last thing before you go. “I hope you’ll give me another chance, Leah. I’ve never felt this way about someone before, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. 

She sniffles and wipes a tear away, “we’ll see.” 

Maru

She begins by tilting her head at you, her eyes scanning you up and down before turning back to her studies. “I know that, it’s pretty obvious.”

“Huh?!” you blurt out, shaking your head. “How–” 

Maru sighed and put her work aside, realizing that they needed to have a full chat about this now, despite her samples calling for her. 

“Once, you mentioned the amount of required poison to kill a person without raising suspicion to require an autopsy.” 

“Okay, but–”

“Another time, when my dad asked if you wanted to go camping one weekend and maybe hunting, you asked if a Heckler & Koch P30L would be an appropriate gun to bring.”

“I’ve never been hunting before!” you defended, weakly. 

“Sweetheart, it’s a handgun. You don’t go hunting with a handgun.” 

“Hang on–”

“Furthermore, you have two bullet wounds that I know of. One on your lower left calf and the other on your upper bicep. You also have obvious scars from being stabbed or sliced and it was most certainly not from a childhood cat.” 

You both stared at one another. You felt like an idiot for thinking you could ever hide anything from her. 

“Does it bother you?” 

“A little,” she admitted with a small shrug. “So long as you don’t go back into that kind of work though, I can get over it. Just don’t ever try to lie to me again, I will always know.” 

Penny

Her eyes widen and her heartbeat jumps so quickly she thinks she might faint.

She would have never expected this of you. 

Going into the mines was one thing, but killing people was a whole other level of insanity. 

It takes her a minute to process what you’ve just told her, her hands twisting in her lap, fearing she’s going to say the wrong thing. 

“Were they all bad people?” she finally asks, lifting her eyes up to meet yours. 

You take a moment to respond, a lie resting at the tip of your tongue, but you squash it and say, “No, they weren’t.” 

At this, Penny breaks. 

She drops her head into her hands and cries, pulling her knees up and to her chest while the heels of her feet rest on the edge of the couch. 

She was in love with you. So desperately, eagerly, pathetically in love with you. 

And now, she doesn’t know how to move forward. 

Her whole life, she has dealt with bad people. From the moment she was born she has fought with everything she’s ever had to be one of the good ones. Abiding by the rules, keeping to herself to avoid stepping on any toes, taking care of others when they don’t even appreciate the kindness she shows to them. 

“I don’t-” she gasped between her tears. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

The farmer nodded, taking her hands into their own and squeezing them gently. “I love you, Penny. More than anything.” 

“Why did you have to tell me?” she whispered. “Why..” 

“I couldn’t keep lying to you..” 

Penny stood, ripping her hands away to rope the back of them under her eyes. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t talk to me ever again.”

Then she ran off, leaving you there as the guilt washed over you. 

[be-my-ally]

Caught in a Trap

This has been a WIP since…. January? It predates my Tumblr anyhow - the concept is, uh, ridiculous, a cheesy rom-comesque situation. But for some reason, I just love having pretend arguments with Elvis - it’s honestly one of my go-to scenarios. Then, this prompt came along and I thought, huh, I’m pretty sure this would work with this, so I dug it out from the depths of my files and here we are xx 

prompt fill: “How are we going to solve this problem?”

pairing: Elvis (1961/2) / fem!Reader 

warnings: 18+, kind of manipulative!elvis, accusations of cheating, fake date, kissing, the suggestion of oral sex… but nothing actually pictured (honestly …. this is because i feel like all i’ve done recently is write the exact same description of it …. so if anyone wants to send me those time machine instructions so i can get some more inspo that would be *great*) . fictional member of the entourage as like a billy-esque person, but just a teeny bit older. Jerry hanging around when he may not have been - i’m envisioning he just popped over for something rather than working for e in this one but that may just be bc i wrote him into it and need an excuse for him to be there.

summary: essentially an alternative, younger, take of the older, sexier ‘We can’t go on together’ - Confronting Elvis about his casual kissing and the aftermath of being told ‘sure, its fine if you want to find someone else to take you out’ - spoiler…. It’s not fine. 

wc: 4.4k

as always for the dolls @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @thatbanditqueen @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain

It’s difficult, having these conversations with him, they somehow always turn accusing - both of you slinging accusations at one another. But you can’t keep watching him go on as he is, can’t keep watching from the sidelines where he’s ensconced you between the walls of Graceland. It’s painful at best, humiliating at worst, watching him with his hands on the necks of other girls, kissing their cheeks - or god forbid their lips at the gates, in the car. Wherever he happens to be. He’s always liked girls, chased after them ever since he was old enough to want to and he didn’t often see much harm in chasing now either. Maybe you would see less harm yourself, in his careless affection for his fans,  if you felt like he was putting in enough effort to you - that you weren’t just being taken advantage of. But as much as you struggle through, logically knowing he loves you, it doesn’t really feel like it at the moment. It comes to a head one evening when he stalks through the front door, furious that you’d leapt from the car and stormed up to the house when he was “just talking! I was just talkin’ to her! What did you want me to do!”

You’d awkwardly stood there in the foyer, chest heaving with your emotions but uncertain what was best to say, when he’d continued his rant; 

“Oh naw, C’mon now, you wanna have it out, let’s have it out. C’mon, what’s the problem?” You sigh, 

“Noth-” He huffs at you, crossing his arms, his reddish-brown suit crinkling with the motion, as if telling you he knows that’s a lie. “Ok, fine. I don’t see why you always gotta let ‘em be all over you.” That’s barely the half of it, but no good ever comes from these arguments with him. 

“They’ve been waiting out there for hours, it’s the least I could do!” He shakes his head, “No, this has gotta be more than just some lil jealous thing, so go on - what’s wrong, I’ve not been treatin’ you enough?” You flinch as if you’ve been slapped, its a mean accusation and he knows it; the implication that’s all you’re there for, as if you hadn’t been there before; hadn’t waited with barely a phone call a week for two years for him to come home. Despite your best efforts you can feel your eyes filling with tears, though you attempt to furiously blink them away, knowing he hates it. He sighs, “Nah, I’m sorry baby, that wasn’t, that wasn’t fair, what is it?” He grabs your arm, slinking around so that he’s cupping you against his chest, “C’mon no need for that, what is it botherin’ you?” It’s almost comical, the degree to which he is in denial about his own affinity for being the problem, but you’ve already had enough of the discussion and just want it to be over now. So you clutch at straws, mind grabbing the first thing that he might find as an acceptable reason for your poor mood; 

“Elvie - Baby, I just, I never get to go out anymore.” He huffs again, pulling back a little so he can look down at you, he rolls his eyes, as if he’s about to disagree before he looks to the side, deflating a little. 

“No, you’re right. It’s not fair to you - pretty young dolls should be taken out every night of the damn week,” You frown, you’re barely two years younger than he is, “but baby, I gotta, gotta work, I’m just so goddamn busy at the moment sweetheart, I can’t just, I just don’t have the time.” You pout at him, understanding but still unhappy. He pulls you around to sit down, sitting beside you, your thighs touching. 

It hadn’t been a total lie; you weren’t happy about the evenings sat waiting at home, just hoping tonight would be the night he shows up when he said he would. He stares out the window a moment, clearly thinking. He meets your eyes, holding your gaze for so long that you feel like you have to look away before saying, “Well gee honey,” his tone full of faux nonchalance, “maybe, uh, maybe you can go on dates if you wanna. Find someone to take you out when I can’t. Just…just as long as you’re being good on ‘em. Real good, mama, you hear me?” You’re a little confused what’s being proposed but you hurriedly nod all the same, “I don’t wanna hear about your mouth bein’ places it shouldn’t.” You’re quick to agree, 

“Of course, it’s more, I just want the company El, I still don’t have many girlfriends here in Memphis now, but I don’t wanna be kissing anyone but you.” He pats your leg, nodding almost magnanimously, clearly pleased at his generosity of the suggestion, 

“Well then sure, honey, go and have fun. Actually, that’ll solve my problem with the Colonel too.” 

So with that permission, when two weeks later one of the boys - Tommy, approached you and asked timidly if you wanted to go out with him that night, “I-uh know you’re with Elvis, but I know you have a, uh, agreement of sorts, and I’d uh love to spend the evening with you doll.” You had gladly agreed. Elvis wasn’t even going to be home, and he had said you could go out; who better than one of his boys? 

You’re surprised, in the late evening, how good of a time you’re having, even as you can’t help but compare; Elvis would have opened that door for you. Elvis would have had a bouquet in his hand, if not something more extravagant. Elvis would have sat on the same side of the table as you. Elvis wouldn’t have flinched away when your elbows touched. Still, for being with someone who wasn’t Elvis you were having a nice enough time and it was fun to spend some time acting your age again. Being normal. It wasn’t necessarily something you’d want to do super often but both you and Tommy were aware your heart was elsewhere and so you didn’t have to worry about letting him down, and he made sure you were both still having a good time. It was honestly just nice to be out, and not accosted while doing so. You’re sucking up the last of your milkshake, well aware the date is going nowhere and therefore not ashamed to noisily suck up the dregs, the loud noise making Tommy chuckle. 

“You know doll - when EP suggested this I thought he’d gone insane, but I’ve had a good time tonight.” The pet name flowed off of his tongue as easily as it seemed to in all of Elvis’ southern entourage but you can’t help but wince internally a tiny bit at his usage. However, you’re immediately distracted by the rest of his sentence, the last of the milkshake turning to what felt like pure ice running through your throat to your tummy, 

“Sorry, did you just say… Elvis suggested this?” Tommy suddenly looks a little bashful, eyes wide,   

“Uh - yeah, I thought…he said he thought the press would stop hounding you so much if uh - you looked unattached from him? Said people were starting to guess you were uhhh goin’ steady stead of just seein’ him. So he told me to take you out - dinner and a movie, make sure we were seen and uhhh…. told me I could do whatever you asked….you know keepin’ up ‘ppearances but to keep my hands to myself.” You’re stunned, and feel so, so very stupid. You’d honestly thought he liked you, at the very least as a friend, and while you had had no intention of it being anything but an evening that might make Elvis jealous you still had liked the attention.  

“…sorry, are you saying that you were paid to go on this date with me?”

“Uhhh look, I thought you knew! I thought it was a joint thing, and I uh wasn’t paid anything more than I norm-lly would for an evening’s work. Ain’t like I took much persuadin’ - you’re a pretty girl!” Well there was that at least. “I didn’t meanta offend ya or anythin.” he sounds sincere, and while you’re still shaken by this revelation your brain is running through scenarios that may make the evening still worthwhile. You smooth your features, and smile up at him glancing at him under your eyelashes 

“Well-there’s one way you can make it up to me.” It’s like he can tell where your mind has gone and he looks sideways nervously, 

“Uh, well see here though doll, Elvis… he’ll kill me. He’ll kill me dead.” You let out a little, fake, giggle. 

“Oh no it’s just a game -  he’s just foolin with you, the silly goose.” You worry you might be laying it on a bit thick but he definitely is starting to relax. “Look, I uh, don’t think he’d be thrilled to see anything in the papers but look, if you let Jerry catch us in the caddy; I’ll double whatever Elvis was gonna pay you…” He still looks uncertain, and you panic for a second before you get a sudden flash of inspiration - “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t go mad at you.” He still looks worried but is clearly on the fence, “… and I’ll put in a good word with Jackie for you.” His face lights up. Jackpot. 

It’s awkward as you drive back, both of you preparing for it, he clearly wants to know why on earth you seem to have lost your mind but is evidently too afraid to ask. And you’re spending the time wondering the exact same thing, but, at the end of the day… Elvis can only be so mad, right? He does basically the same thing all the time. When he pulls into the spot designated for the car, you turn to him - there needs to be ground rules. 

“Ok. Hands above my waist. At all times.” He nods, eyes wide, “Ok, ok this’ll be fine. Just a kiss - a regular kiss, no tongue or anything.” He nods again, rapidly, like the fear is subsiding somewhat and he can’t quite believe his luck. 

You don’t have to wait long, you’d timed it almost perfectly for when you knew Jerry would be heading out to meet his current girl. You can see him stand there and put his hand up to his forehead, attempting to block your headlights which you’d ‘accidentally’ bumped on when he started to walk up.“Ok,” You look over at Tommy, inching across the seat, “Ok, quick before he goes,” You don’t allow it to go on for very long, but certainly long enough and it’s only shortly after when you pull away, acting as if you were in a daze; quickly flicking off the lights and killing the power entirely. When you glance up again, Jerry’s gone.

‘Shit.’ You think, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. It was one thing to give a performative kiss, for a reason -  to a fan begging for it, but quite another to have potentially done so without an audience. It makes you feel strangely guilty about the whole evening. You thank Tommy again, making it clear it’s time for him to leave; he gets out when you do and starts to heads towards the house but before he’s taken three steps you’re calling back to him,  “Uh Tommy, just in case - unless he sends for you, I’d probably lay low until I have a chance to speak to him.”  He looks back at you and nods. Despite your assurances (and his clear desire to go out with Jackie) you can tell he was still apprehensive about facing Elvis. He changes the direction he was heading in, instead heading for the back entrance - clearly about to go and find some of the other boys to hang out with - or maybe bum a lift home from one of them, while you get out of your car, smooth your dress and hair and head for the front door. 

You walk in, expecting pretty much a party since it was the right time of night for that to be happening and hear nothing but Elvis at the piano; your stomach plummets, it’s rare he’s home at this time, and even rarer that he’s clearly alone - you feel even guiltier about what you’ve done. He’d clearly wanted you to have him to come home to, no doubt knowing you’d choose him over anyone. You head straight for the music room tucked in the corner of the foyer and see him sat there, mindlessly playing humming along but looking out the window. 

“Hi Honey,” You go to greet him with a kiss, but he turns to face you and you realise you’ve severely miscalculated; 

“Hi Honey” he mocks you in a high pitched tone, it deepens as he continues to stare directly at you, “Jerry just called me from the car. He had some mighty interestin’ gossip to tell me.” He pats the bench “why dontcha sit down and let me share it with you.” You look around nervously but he really has cleared the place out and there’s no one to excuse yourself with, nor can you think of any good reason to refuse him, so you do as he demands. You hope Tommy had headed back out himself. You try to keep your face expressionless forcibly relaxing your jaw, anxious not to let Elvis know you’re worried; how’re you the one who’s feeling so nervous? Although you’d expected some reaction you hadn’t expected to have to face up to the consequences so soon. Despite everything telling you not to, you sit close to him, thighs touching. You’d normally hook an ankle around his, but that’s a step too far today. His fingers play a little tune while you wait for him to talk. 

“You steppin’ out on me baby?” His tone is level, in a way that says his anger has gone past hot temper and straight into cold fury. If he wasn’t so enraged you might find him amusing, sounding a bit like a petulant little boy pretending to be a man. You look over at him, suddenly furious that he, who orchestrated this whole evening, might take offence that you took part in it.

“If I was it’s because you arranged it.” He hits a flat note. 

“Because you asked me to.” He’s got an edge of a condescending tone about him, and he talks slowly, like he’s spelling something out for you. “You told me I never take you out anymore and you’d find someone who would. I found someone for you. Thought you’d be happy.” He shrugs. 

“So….what exactly is the problem here then?” Your tone is less than polite, but you had expected him to rage at you and his opposite reaction has unnerved you. You go to stand up, exhausted already at the argument that he appears to be ready to have again. It wasn’t how you’d expected this to go - you thought he’d apologise, make up, move on; although you should know by now that he rarely, if ever, apologises for anything. As you round the corner by him, his hand whips out and he grabs your wrist, 

“I ain’t done talking to you yet little girl.” You have no choice but to pause where you are, 

“I don’t see what’s left to talk about - I did what I said I was going to do, and you arranged it. Did you want me to say thank you? Thank you for insulting me like that?” 

He looks over at you and he’s talking fast, lowly like he wants to get his point across as quickly as possible. His head dipping to look up at you from under his eyelashes, his hand that wasn’t clutching you gesturing with his speech; 

“N-ow baby, I didn’t have an issue with you bein’ taken out, you’re right I probably don’t spend enough time treatin’ you to all that … although I think you get enough treats. But….Jerry’s just told me there was somethin’ else goin’ on. That’s different from bein’ taken out to dinner baby,” his eyes flash, and he looks you dead in your own, and despite how awkward you feel you can’t look away, his accent growing stronger as his emotions get the better of him; “that’s you steppin out o’line, steppin’ out on me. How are we gonna solve this problem?”

He’s still got a hold of your wrist and he’s holding onto it so tightly, you’re positive it’ll bruise if he holds on much longer. His eyes are burning as he looks over at you, and you can’t help but let yours fill with tears. He shakes his head and wiggles your arm, 

“No. Darlin’ don’t you start with them crocodile tears until we got this all straightened out.” He tugs you to stand in front of him as he swivels to sit sideways on the bench. As you try to swallow your tears indignation rises within you; 

“You’re not being fair. You step out on me all the damn time El. Lord above, I’m surprised if you’re not out more than you’re in.” He frowns, “and more than that, you arranged it all tonight! manoeuvred me about just how you wanted! How did you expect me to react Elvis? Of course I wanted to get back at you. Give you a little taste of how I feel all the goddamn time.”

“Baby,” His tone as if he’s talking to a child, “I’ve told you before - it’s different for me I’ve -“

‘I swear to god E, if you say you’ve got needs one more fucking time, we’re through and I really mean it this time.” He sucks in a breath, like despite all he’s done he didn’t expect the ultimatum, and usually you’d expect it to annoy him further - for him to tell you fine, go then. But he doesn’t, instead he looks down, suddenly forlorn as if you’ve knocked the wind from his sails. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say doll, I can’t bear the thought of you with someone else.” He’s still looking down, at your feet, like a little boy being told off. You hate how it immediately endears him to you again, how you’re immediately thinking of ways you could make him feel better. 

“Well why should I have to bear it with you?”

He looks sideways, “It’s ju-just,” he’s clearly nervous and he stutters through the next, “baby I have spoken to the Colonel ‘bout all this, d-d- don’t think I haven’t, he just ain’t keen on me having a girl at the moment. I don’t see how you can come with me everywhere and it not be clear we’re together.” You shake your arm where it’s still in his grip, forcing him to look at you. 

“Well El- are we together? Because there’s puttin’ on a show for whatever reason and then there’s sneakin’ girls back when no-ones looking.” Your own accent is coming out stronger as you get louder. 

“There ain’t no other girls darling,” he sighs, “I dunno how many times I’ve gotta tell you that.” 

“That’s just not true, if it was we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.” He shakes his head, hair starting to come out of its coiffed position with the force of it,

“I swear baby you’re the only girl for me.” You nod, and step forward to put your hands on either side of his face. He leans into them, eyelashes fluttering unconsciously. 

“I know you think that when I’m here, but what about when I’m not?” 

“I-I don’t know how you’re turning this onto me doll, when you’re the one kissin’ someone else tonight. I’ve been here on my lonesome waiting for you to come home.” You laugh, squeezing his cheeks causing his lips to pucker as he talks, 

“Elvis. That’s my life every night.” He frowns. 

“Darling, they don’t mean nothing though! I swear it’s just for show! I haven’t had another girl in any way that matters since I met you baby.” You frown back at him, that wasn’t what you’d heard, and ‘not in any way that matters’ doesn’t mean not at all but his earnest expression, with his eyes wide, seems desperate for you to believe him. “Please baby, you hafta believe me.” He pleads, and you can feel yourself slipping, 

“Hmmm. Well….if you say so.” You shrug, about to pull away to take a breath and attempt to regain your thoughts without his eyes imploring you.  He stands, wrapping his arms around your midriff, with a little wiggle before you can get any further away. A hand travels up to your neck, almost feeling like he’s scruffing you, but his thumb rubs over a pressure point and you can feel the tension in your shoulders ease with each gentle stroke of his finger. 

“I swear, mama.” You look up at him, his lips parted - blue eyes earnest, for once not clouded by eyeliner or make-up, “I swear, I- I uh like the attention but I mean I’m a hot blooded man, I can’t turn that off baby, and if a girl’s gonna throw herself at me, I’m not gonna shove her away.” You frown, you’d been about to cave in to anything he said, but you’re hesitant again now - unsure what you’d be agreeing to if not, essentially, giving him permission to do whatever the hell he likes. His hand grips your hip tighter, as if he can sense he’s losing you. “No, c’mon baby, you know it makes sense - it’s, it don’t mean nothing, I swear it, I swear it on, on,” He looks around desperate for divine inspiration, “On my Mama’s grave I swear - you’re my girl.” You’re taken aback by that, it wasn’t something you’d ever heard him say before and Gladys’ name wasn’t ever brought up in any kind of jest. You can’t help but totally believe him. You duck your head, hating yourself a little for making him swear such a promise, 

“Oh no, Elvis, I only kissed him to get back at you - make you jealous.” He tucks your head against him, holding you close and shushes you, 

“I know sweet, I know. Bet he wasn’t even a good kisser was he? He’s just a boy, ain’t a man like you need.” You shake your head against his chest groaning a little at what you’re about to confess, playing in to his little pissing competition. 

“No…wasn’t good at all. Hadda….had to lead.” Elvis laughs, 

“Oh no, sweet little thing like you shouldn’t hafta be in charge. You oughta be taken care of.” He tips your head back and brushes your tears away with his thumbs. “No more tears mama,” and he kisses you, gently - twice on the mouth before moving to the side of your face. Butterfly kisses, before leading you by the hand over to the sofa, “Lemme take care of ya, doll.” 

He sits, legs parted and his hands grip your hips holding you in place before dragging you closer, it forces you to look down at him. Simultaneously making you feel a little small, and a little like a child, you thread your fingers through his hair, weaving the strands, stiff with gel and spray past your knuckles to tilt his head up. He smiles up at you, a little private half-smile, his eyes crinkling and you’re helpless to anything except leaning down to press a kiss against it. He takes the opportunity of the momentum of your leaning down to tug you onto his lap. Breaking your hold on his hair, and the touch of your lips on his. He takes a moment to situate you, tugging with a hand under your thigh to pull you ever closer to him. Once you’re firmly tucked against his side his other hand travels up your back to support your head, as if you needed it, gripping your neck, the other a heavy presence on your thigh. You shift, helplessly trapped by his hold on you - as if you’d even want to get away, unable to do anything but melt against his chest. 

You glance about, sure that the silence and solitude you had found him in was soon to be broken, and nervous about going any further if there was a threat of being interrupted. 

“Nah, baby, no-one’s around,” He leans forward, kissing your neck, “Let - “ he moves closer, to your cheek, murmuring against your skin, “me, make it up to you.” He whispered right against your lips. You sink into him completely, lips parting of their own accord, and he delves into them. It’s perfect, despite the slightly awkward angle, and you can’t help but sigh a little breath of relief at the feeling of it, so different from the gentle, chaste kiss in the car. Utterly perfect with his sharp nippy little teeth and darting tongue. He pulls you back, shifting you back but lower, until you’re pretty much horizontal on the sofa, pulling his hand out from under your neck to lay you down completely. He shifts, tumbling off, onto his knees. 

He pulls you around with a grip on your thighs before positioning you exactly how he wants, on your back, with your feet planted firmly down, legs spread. He tugs you closer to him, so that you’re almost coming off the couch yourself, pushing your legs apart further so that he could kneel between them. You aren’t sure about this. Not in, essentially, the very first room of the house - not, right by the front door.

“C’mon I’ll make you feel good doll, and then, then I’ll take ya upstairs and you can apologise real pretty to me too.” You frown, about to protest - to suggest, ‘hey how about we go straight upstairs now?’ when all thoughts are gone from your mind as he pushes your already bunched up dress further up and leans in, his breath hot against your panties. He’s … very good at this, and you’re under no illusions that by the time he’s half carrying you on wobbly legs up the stairs that you’ll have completely forgotten about any of those other girls, and by the time he’s placing you on your knees in front of him in the bedroom, that you’ll have totally forgiven him for any future transgressions as well. 

[bartohenchmanb]

Going from Doflamingo as a villain to Big Mom is probably the biggest flip this show has ever done for me. Doflamingo went from the most extreme privilege in the world to its complete opposite as a tiny child, and it fucked him up. Then Trebol and the others showed up and put him back on a pedestal to fulfill his every evil whim. I still maintain he’s dumb as fuck and irredeemably evil, but even with knowing what he was capable of as a celestial dragon, he did not deserve the hell he went through. No one deserves that. But there was so much depth to his character because of the life he lead. And even with how evil he is, there is still a part of him that I sympathize with.

Big Mom was a selfish fucking child in her youth, and she’s a selfish fucking child as an old lady. Because of her size and natural strength, she was denied nothing that she wanted. Even when her actions caused her to hurt other people, she was called a good girl because she was “just trying to help.” Because she was never scolded and her behavior was never reprimanded, she never learned how to actually be kind. Yes, she was also abused, in a pretty fucked up way that people just abandoned her without ever explaining why or lying to her about it. Instead of ever making her face the consequences of her own actions, they instead made her the victim of bad people. In her mind, they didn’t abandon her because of her actions, they did it because they were mean.

Now as an adult, she’s still the same exact entitled child! She hasn’t grown up or matured at all, everything is about her. But she still maintains this idea in her head that she’s good. She’s built a land where “everybody can live side by side,” but she’s done nothing to actually create a peaceful coexistence, because she never lost her own prejudices. She casually throws out slurs and insults at anyone who’s a little different, keeps a fucking collection of living creatures like a museum display, so all the people who are different are never viewed as the same and their abuse continues. But they can’t ever leave once they’ve come here because she has so many abandonment issues she will literally kill you if you try to leave. But the worst of it is her hunger pangs. Early on in the arc it’s implied she doesn’t have control of herself during her hunger pangs, which is how she ended up murdering her own son. But then during her 8 hour attack, she has a full conversation with Jimbei where she talks about Perospero and his lie and you realize, no, she was in control during her hunger pangs. So all of the things she did, even back at Elbaf, she knew what she was doing, but she’s so spoiled she literally murders anyone she wants during a fucking temper tantrum because she wants a fucking snack! She knew what she was doing, which makes everything even worse, and makes me fucking hate Mother Carmel for being such a fuckwit. She deserved to be eaten.

[danswank]

crash test live highlights | episode 14.

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (cinq)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere bts x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, physical assault, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, (slight) gaslighting

you were left, abandoned by mortals and immortals alike. darkness knows no bounds, and neither does punishment. there is no refuge in neither blood nor flesh from its wrath. if darkness welcomes you, should you open your arms to it in return? if darkness turns you away, does that mean you’ve won? should you choose to cast aside this lonely path of yours, and your conviction along with it, regardless of whatever other horrors lie in wait, you will be saved. 

——————————————————————

What is one to do when they hear the words they’ve feared the most leave someone else’s mouth?

The moment they graced Jin’s eardrums, he gripped his phone so tightly he could hear the glass screen crack. 

He and Yoongi had been assisting their father in the woods with preparations for the next meeting, the ominous hour approaching in no less than ten days.

He ignored Moonsik and Yoongi for a moment to answer his phone. 

“Hello?”

He could barely make out any of Jimin’s words--the boy’s blubbering masked too much of the information.

“Robotics...bathroom...”

“Jimin, I can’t hear anything over the sound of you crying. What’s going on?”

“(Y/N)...rooftop...Aemilia...”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi stopped talking to the older man, shifting his gaze toward his elder brother as he noticed Jin’s voice raise in irritation and concern.

“Blood...”

“Blood?!”

——————————————————————

Jimin had walked out of robotics a little early today, bored to tears.

He had felt much better after getting rid of the idiotic gaggle that dared to threaten you, and threaten him into abandoning you.

He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve never left your side, he thought as he kneeled on the rooftop, staring forlornly at the pool of partially dried blood on the concrete.

“She was bleeding, hyung. Aemilia or her people must have taken her, but I have no idea where they went.”

Namjoon had been in the middle of a meeting with the school board, representing the student council.

Hoseok had been in the dance studio, barking orders out at somewhat competent underclassmen.

Jungkook and Taehyung were holed up in the younger’s room, playing games rather than doing any actual work.

In short, none of them were prepared. None of them had been there for you as they had promised.

You trusted them when you needed them most, and they left you high and dry.

Jimin felt like he would never be able to get the disappointment and guilt off of his chest.

——————————————————————

Namjoon bounded into the clearing, his usually polished exterior uncharacteristically tarnished. 

Hoseok appeared not long after him, having raced to the woods the moment he received the news.

They were met by Seokjin and Yoongi, who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, near a miserable Jungkook and a pacing Taehyung. Both boys had been in the house, so they were the first to arrive.

Jimin got there last, his hands and uniform pants stained red from the puddle he had kneeled in on the rooftop.

Six pairs of eyes landed on him and his appearance, confirming the worst.

“Three!” Seokjin cried incredulously. “Three of you were on campus, surrounded by a bunch of humans, and not a single one of you managed to keep an eye on her!”

“She could be anywhere,” Jungkook groaned in fear. 

“By all means, please don’t start caring now. It’s too late.” Yoongi snapped at him. “You and Taehyung drove straight home to do absolutely nothing. You could at least have offered her a ride home and ensured that she was safe. You’re just as responsible as they are.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew glassy, but only because he knew his brother was right. 

“As much as you enjoy playing the blame game, we have more pressing matters to address.” Namjoon interjected in an attempt to calm them down.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Namjoon.” Seokjin’s icy tone sent a chill down their backs. “If we really wanted to play the blame game, we would have recognized how this is all your fault.”

The leader stood in tense silence.

“What did I tell you mere hours before this happened?” He continued, walking toward Namjoon until they were face to face. “I told you to get your shit together and to keep that girl in line. Hell, none of this would have happened if we hadn’t followed your idiotic plan in the first place.”

Seokjin was rarely ever angry enough to hiss in his brother’s face. They had all learned a long time ago that to provoke the oldest was to invoke Death.

“We all agreed his plan was the best choice at the time, hyung.” Yoongi cautiously approached the two and lay a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, leveling a glare of his own at Namjoon. “We can deal with him later. We need to find her first.”

Jimin took the opportunity to step further into the clearing and brandished his phone, the device still open to his messages. “(Y/N) texted me saying Aemilia invited her up to roof and that she assumed it was for a confrontation of some sort.” 

“Aemilia doesn’t have the ability or strength to do damage like that by herself, though.” Taehyung frowned as he gestured to Jimin’s clothes. “Unless...”

The brothers looked at each other in realization and one by one, rushed out the clearing and out the forest. 

A quick drive to the center of the city and one pitifully short interrogation later, their suspicions were settled.

Hoseok growled as he re-entered the van, slamming the car door shut. “How dare he? When did he gain the courage to mobilize our own forces without our knowledge?”

“Never mind Augustus,” Jimin said, although his eyes blazed with anger. “Where would they take her?”

“That dog wouldn’t have taken her to the normal base, she has far too much malicious intent for (Y/N).” Taehyung growled.

Jungkook lightly tapped his fingers on the car door, looking out the window when the thought hit him.

“You don’t think they’d take her to...?”

His brothers looked at him in confusion, but he pointed out the window at the tree line of the woods. 

Having grown up in those woods, they knew it like the back of their hand. 

They knew the places were young townspeople would go to goof off, the places they had claimed for themselves, and the places that were...strictly off-limits.

It didn’t take much longer for the realization to set in.

Once it had, they took off in the direction of the forest.

——————————————————————

In your dream, you once again stood before Ichabod Chapel.

The Chapel, adorned with green vines, had long since been abandoned. Once, the walls must have been a beautiful ivory, but now they were a dark beige, having rotted with time.

A complete opposite to the image of the decrepit church, the seven Kim brothers stood on the ground in front of the entrance, visions dressed in various black silks.

Contrary to its original purpose, the material looked anything but light and airy--in fact, it looked as though it was weighed down or soaked, doused in some unknown substance.

You looked down to see that you were dressed in a white, ceremonial outfit. It billowed out like a ball gown, the sleeves drawing lacy patterns swirling up to your thumb. 

When you looked up, you were stunned by the brilliant, black wings that extended from the backs of the seven men before you. 

The sight of their wings enraptured you, those gorgeous appendages, feathers glossy under the moonlight.

Each of them had their own, unique set, varying in shapes and sizes, though the largest pair of wings belonged to none other than Kim Namjoon, who stood in the center of his brothers, hands in his pocket as he flashed you a familiar, mischievous grin.

Namjoon was the first to step out of the line, casually extending his hand out to you, and you hesitantly raised a dainty, (s/c) hand in return, placing it in his.

He pulled you into his arms and you felt him wrap them around you.

His brothers came to circle around the two of you, eventually joining the hug as well. 

Then, the whispers began.

Their tone was loving, though their words were anything but.

They were desperate, consuming, obsessive, threatening. 

They wanted you to love them, they needed you to love them, why couldn’t you understand? 

Your head pounded, filled to the brim with cruel promises of tenderness and affection.

The substance from their silks seeped into your clothes, rapidly staining your white outfit red.

You realized just what it was that they were doused in and tried to pull away from their arms but they surrounded you, locking you into their hold. 

The harder you fought to get out, the tighter they held on to you until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Things were better this way. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to protect you.  There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for your love.

How could you scorn their love for you? How could you treat them like this?

 They didn’t want to hurt anyone you cared about. They didn’t want to eliminate everyone you love in order to bring you to their side, but they would if they had to. 

They paid no mind to the way you were drowning in the smell of it, drowning in blood. Was it yours or someone else’s? Was it your mother’s? Mana’s?

All you knew was that they were done playing games.

——————————————————————

Your eyes flashed open and you winced as you immediately wished they hadn’t.

Your head pounded, each thump forcing your eyes shut with the intensity, still not having recovered from the several hits it received. 

For a moment it felt as though you were still unconscious and drenched in darkness, as when you tried to get a glimpse of your surroundings, you only saw shadows and moving, ambiguous shapes. 

The movement of the ground beneath you, however, quickly dispelled such thoughts. 

It appeared as though you were being carried over someone’s shoulder. Despite the extra weight, the person you currently rested on was light and quick on their feet, moving with a speed that made you feel worse than you already were.

The familiar crunching of leaves and branches on the ground made your heart beat just a bit harder. 

According to their footsteps and what you could see of your surroundings, you surmised they had taken you to the forest.

It had been mid afternoon when Aemilia and the people who worked for her and her family accosted you at the roof. Now, there was barely a hint of the moon in your surroundings.

Did she intend to have her people tie you up to the wooden pyre and set you aflame, like some sick imitation of a witch burning at the stake? Or to make it seem as though the Kims had done it?

Despite how afraid of Mayor Kim the citizens were, there was no way everyone would believe you died in such a gaudy display. 

Only the purple fire that Mayor Kim was capable of conjuring left nothing behind, after all. If they were to going to get rid of you by fire, your remains would be found.

There’s no way you could ensure that, however. 

There’s no guarantee that Aemilia wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise and utterly destroy you.

A light cough broke the silence, bringing you back to the present, and you tried to calm your heartbeat. There’s no way your captors would believe you were asleep if you kept scaring yourself like this.

You felt a tight, scratchy material around your wrists and your hands laying against your back.

You successfully clenched your hands. So they hadn’t drugged you while you were out. 

You were hesitant to shift, as you feared your captors would notice your cognizant state, so you resorted yourself to blinking at the ground and gritting your teeth from the pain and nausea. 

Thankfully, the people you were with appeared to be none the wiser. 

“Are we almost there?” A deep voice, seemingly annoyed, huffed.

“Be patient, Lee.” You felt the vibrations of the person carrying you as they replied. “This isn’t just any other job.” 

“I understand, but don’t you think Miss Augustus is going too far?”

Your captor scoffed. “If you want to question the Augustuses, thereby questioning the Kims and their authority, be my guest. I just hope you and your family will be able to deal with the consequences.”

The second captor, Lee, had nothing else to say after that. 

The quiet of the forest left a buzzing in your ears and the swinging sensation your body was making whilst strewn over the person’s back became too much to bear. 

You figured you’d just make your captor angrier if you barfed down their back and tried to shift to draw their attention, but it was too late. 

The acrid taste of bile and what you had for lunch earlier that day reached your mouth and your lifted your head, spitting out as much of it as you could.

There was a yell of anger and disgust, and your captor shoved you off of them and onto the forest floor. 

You held back a shout as you hit the ground, injuring your side even further, and let out the rest of your meal.

“What the-?! This disgusting bitch!”

Your captor launched another kick at your stomach and you fought back tears as they aggravated the wounds already in place. 

Lee stopped them after a while, complaining that another round of beating would just delay their job even further. 

You wiped your mouth off on your shoulder and grimaced.

To your surprise, you found that you could move your legs.

The first captor lifted you to your feet by your collar, and you recognized him as Mr. Byun, the man the strawberry blonde had referred to earlier. 

“Your legs still work for a reason,” he sneered and pushed you forward.

Your legs did indeed work, but were wobbly after hours of no use. 

You tripped and almost fell to the floor again, the bonds around your wrists preventing you from reaching out to break your fall, when the second captor grabbed you by the back of your shirt and held you up. 

“I’m not really in the mood for any of your foolishness, girl.” Lee glowered down at you. “Use your legs properly, or I’ll break them and drag you by the hair. It would be all too easy.”

You heard a suspicious click and your eyes flickered over to Byun, whose hand rested on his waist. In the other, however, he fiddled with a small lever on what appeared to be a firearm.

“Do you understand?” The second captor shook you and your brain protested, rattling around far too much for its liking. 

The thought of escape, which had been curling up inside you like the beginning of a fire, was quickly extinguished. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

He pushed you away from him and you walked, following him with Byun at your back, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

You couldn’t tamper with the ropes around your wrist, as Byun was watching your every move. There was also the gun, and the fact that both men were trained in the use of it as well as martial arts.

Was there truly no way to escape?

——————————————————————

The three of you walked for what felt like hours, reaching a part of the woods that you had never seen before.

Here, the trees were sparse and had already lost all of their leaves. The dark branches coiled and twisted toward the sky, as if reaching for affection that would never be reciprocated. The stumps were old, the ground hard.

And then, a clearing. But not the one you were used to seeing.

Your heart dropped as you walked between two trees, noticing the view beyond them. 

You could now tell that it was well after midnight, for the sun was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, as always, the moon was high in the sky. 

Wylynne gazed down on the clearing with a force, as if the moon goddess wanted you to see bright and clear what awaited you.

The crumbling cliff before you overlooked a tranquil lake. Clouds hung in the distance, obscuring what was undoubtedly the outside world.

The outside of Ichabod.

Such tranquility had no business here, you thought to yourself as the pace of your breathing increased. 

Your captors had brought you to Lorne’s Ledge, also known as the edge of no return.

It was forbidden territory for any Ichabodian citizen.

Even before Mayor Kim came to town, even before the Augustus family had their reign: this was one of the oldest, most sacred spots in Ichabod.

The lady of the cliff, Lorne, saw to it that the forsaken never returned home.

You shuddered. The folklore didn’t scare you in the slightest. It would always be the work of man that you detested. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some foreign, oppressive gaze resting on you now that you were here. As if Lorne herself were staring at you, waiting for you to join her in the watery depths--

That familiar click sounded again and your eyes shot to the side. You tried to slowly turn around, but the press of metal against your back forced you to stop all movement.

Lee smirked. “We have arrived at your final destination, my lady.”

“Miss Augustus was generous enough to leave you with two options. You can walk off and take a nice rest in the lake, or you can die before your body ever hits the water.” The man smiled mirthlessly down at you. “Which would you prefer?”

You blinked rapidly, mind racing. Even if you were capable of swimming, with these injuries, you wouldn’t be able to survive the fall off the ledge, 

They truly meant for you to die.

Lee didn’t seem to be in the mood for your deliberation as his cruel smile slipped into an infuriated frown. “Choose.” He growled. “My friend here would be all too happy to make the choice for you. How does a bullet in your brain and being rolled off the cliff sound?”

Byun dug the weapon into your skin and you winced, shaking your head. 

“I’ll-I’ll go. I’ll walk myself.”

Your voice cracked horribly after not speaking for so many hours, but the message was received. 

The metal was removed from your backside and you sighed in relief.

The man in front of you said nothing, simply stepping out of your path. 

You took a couple more breaths and slowly turned to face him. “C-Can I ask you to do something? As a final request.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in response.

You titled your head in the direction of your back. “Can you untie my hands? After I disappear, there might be a search for me, and someone might try to dig through the lake for my body. A suicide will be completely ruled out if they find the ropes.”

There was no way this would work. Even the Augustuses were too intimidated to bother touching the lake for fear of Lorne’s wrath. 

Besides, the police knew when and where to look, and where to say they looked. They would lie to your friends and family through their teeth.

Lee must not have been on the force for very long, however, because he grunted and pulled your hands to him. 

With a slice, the ropes fell to the ground and you clutched your wrists to your chest, nodding partly in thanks and partly in disbelief.

It...worked.

You rubbed your hands together and gently blew on them, fingers numb from the cold breeze. 

Your captors stood together between the trees, blocking the entrance. They murmured quietly to themselves and you continued to morph your face and body expressions into one of a pitiful teenager about to die, concealing the rather reckless thoughts you were having.

You finally turned around and walked back until you were in front of them, catching the two men off guard. They quieted and stared at you, hands at their weapons. 

You met each of them in the eye and bowed, lower than you ever had before, then stood upright.

They looked at you incredulously, giving you just enough time to give Lee a harsh kick between his legs and pry the knife out of his hand.

You slashed at his neck, adrenaline returning full force, and actually managed to cut the man. 

He shouted in pain and brought a hand up to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Before you could turn to face Byun, however, the loud crack of a gunshot was heard throughout the forest and you felt a painful sting on your hand. 

You yelped as you dropped the knife.

Then, there was a second gunshot and the pain returned full force, this time on your shoulder.

The elder captor, completely fed up with your actions, slammed the gun against your head and you crumpled to the ground. 

You could feel something wet on your hand and clothes, but there was too much of it to be sweat in the midnight chill. You slowly lifted your hand, only to see it covered in a dark liquid.

Byun restrained Lee from attempting to beat you this time, barely casting a glance at your pitiful form. 

“Calm yourself. She won’t be alive for much longer.” He gruffed. “She said she would walk herself, so walk she will. We’re just here to watch and make sure it happens.”

He stood over your form and pointed the gun at your head. “What a useless attempt. Get up.”

Your shoulder and hand burned like hell, but you complied. 

You got to your feet once more and stumbled forward, every step taking you further and further away from the two. 

The barrel of the gun followed your every move.

The tears you’d been struggling to hold back ran full force now at the thought of your imminent death. But rather than let your captors feast upon the sight of your defeated form, you stopped.

You were covered in blood. Your uniform was sullied by your own vomit and dirt. 

But you straightened your back, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, and held your head up high. 

You had reached the edge of the cliff now, but your vision was too blurry to see anything besides the vast blue beneath you. 

The lake that rested below had no warmth or safety to provide for you, but neither did the forest behind you.

You considered praying to Wylynne to see if, in all her majesty and grace, she would save you.

Yet clearly, just like all the people who had come before you, just like the lady of the lake herself, the moon goddess had forsaken you.

You were tired. Too tired to fight against what some would call fate.

You whispered an apology to your mother and Mana, and perhaps even to the brothers, the reason why, you did not know.

Your eyes captured the overcast image of the outside world one last time, then you turned around and took a backward step off the cliff with a sad smile, eyes falling closed, mentally locked on that solitary picture.

Above you, you thought you heard the pained screams and grunts of your captors, sounding as though they were struggling against something or someone. 

But before you, you saw your mother with her arms outstretched, that patient, loving smile on her face. 

You reached forward, wrapped your arms around her, and readily slipped into darkness.

Above your falling form, a shadow zipped through the dawn, racing to reach you before you hit the water. 

He saw you smile and lift an arm into the air, before the smile slipped off your face and your limbs went limp.

The large, black wings at his back beat furiously and he flew faster than he ever had before until he had your beaten form cradled to his chest. 

The two of you suddenly shot upward into the air as your descent slowed, and as the first rays of daylight peeked out from above the clouds, his form hung in the air, almost frozen in time, black wings outstretched and supporting the two of you as he floated above Lorne’s Ledge. 

Kim Jimin hovered, adorned in the light of the early morning sun, peering callously down at the vermin who lay trembling between him and his brothers. 

Or what was left of them, at least.

Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the elder one, and the arm he had been using to carry the gun had been ripped clean off. 

He was now whimpering in excruciating pain, clutching at the place where his limb had once been.

The younger one, on the other hand, lay resting against a tree. 

Unmoving, his eyes unseeing. 

All it had taken was one touch from Hoseok, and the man’s life force was gone, sucked out of him before he could even protest.

He was now nothing more than a lifeless sack of meat.

Taehyung picked up the body as Yoongi kicked one of the elder’s legs to get his attention.

The others stood threateningly over Byun, glowering down at him in utter loathe, as though he were a louse.

The old man whimpered, looking up and between them, then paling in horror as he saw Taehyung and Jimin.

The younger brother walked toward the elder as Jimin gently touched down on the ground, your form still protectively pressed to him. The two Kims met eyes and nodded at each other.

Taehyung turned around and flashed Mr. Byun a crazed smile before flinging Lee’s body as far as he could over the cliff.

He gaped in horror and his voice rose multiple decibels, pleads for his life escaping before he could properly think them through.

Seokjin squatted down until he was at an eye level with him, strong, black wings threateningly displayed. He grinned. 

“If you think you have even any hope of escaping your friend’s fate,” he said as the smile slipped off his face, “you’re dead wrong.”

He glared at Byun with cold, amber irises. “But before we end your insignificant, paltry life, you’re going to tell us who sent you and why.”

They already had proof of Aemilia’s crime from Aloysius Augustus himself but they wanted to be sure.

He looked at the younger gentlemen with tears in his eyes. He fought through his pain and got on both knees.

“There’s no use in begging,” Namjoon stated, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, he couldn’t find anything amusing in the matter.

“Please! We were only receiving orders, Miss Augustus--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yoongi used Lee’s discarded knife and slashed it across Byun’s neck, silencing him in an instant. 

The light left his eyes and the man’s body flopped over.

Taehyung didn’t think twice about kicking him off the cliff, either.

Now that those pests were taken care of, the seven rushed to turn their attention on you. 

The bleeding from your shoulder and hand had not slowed in the slightest, and they could hardly feel your pulse.

“We need to get her to the hospital, and fast.” Hoseok said, swallowing the rising lump in his throat.

“I’m the fastest. I can take her there.” Taehyung volunteered.

The brothers agreed, and you were gently deposited into Taehyung’s arms. 

“When you’re sure she’s safe, meet us back here in the woods,” Yoongi said. “You’ll know where to find us.”

"Yes, hyung.” Taehyung spread his wings and took off into the sky.

He carefully cradled you, shifting your body into one of his arms, and attempted to heal some of your worse injuries along the way.

He pressed one hand to your abdomen and began muttering under his breath, a panicked tear slipping out the corner of his eye as he peered at the extent of the damage.

Once your ribs were mostly healed, he pulled his hand away, leaving behind a canvas of dark blue, yellow, and green bruises. He winced and moved on, pressing his hand to your head.

You made no movements, body as limp as ever in his arms. 

Taehyung touched down on the roof of the hospital and tucked those magnificent, black wings together, the appendages fading away as if they were never there. 

He held his arm out, his palm facing the door. He only meant to unlock it, but utterly destroyed it in his haste. Quite frankly, he couldn’t have cared less. 

He hurriedly walked down the stairwell and burst into the hospital’s eleventh floor lobby, reserved for VIP care and treatment. 

A receptionist was working at the front desk, typing away without a care in the world.

He was interrupted by Taehyung’s shouts. “I found her in the woods outside of our home this morning--she’s badly injured, please help!”

He looked up at the boy’s outburst, eyes widening when he realized just who and what he was looking at.

He immediately called for available nurses to bring a bed and admit you to a room, then paged any available doctors.

“Do you know who she is, Mr. Kim?” A nurse asked as she examined you for damage.

He nodded. “She’s a classmate of mine, her name is (Y/N) (L/N). Her mother also works here--please notify her of her daughter’s arrival.”

The man nodded once more, sending someone else to page Nurse (L/N) from the fifth floor.

As the nurses wheeled you away, Taehyung grabbed the receptionist by the wrist and he whipped around in fear.

“This patient is very important,” Taehyung stressed, squeezing the man’s wrist harshly. “She is being admitted under the protection of Kim Moonsik himself, at the behest of our entire family. If anything happens to her...”

The receptionist gulped and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kim. You don’t need to explain any further. We’ll do our absolute best to ensure her care and recovery.”

Taehyung glared down at him for a bit longer before he threw the man’s wrist aside and turned away from him. 

He rubbed at his wrist, knowing it would bruise in a couple of hours, or perhaps even minutes.

The man returned to his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork for your stay. 

When he looked up to ask Taehyung more questions about your injuries, the boy had already disappeared.

——————————————————————

In Taehyung’s absence, the six brothers stretched out their wings and flew to a certain section of the woods behind the Kim family home. 

This part of the woods remained untouched by both the Kim family and the general public. It was only the seven who came out here, and only in times of dire consequence. 

Several trees in the area had fallen over, cracked in half as though hit or pushed in anger with some spectacular force.

Leaves and branches strewn all over the ground were blown away by the boys and the sudden breeze they brought, large wings disrupting the peaceful quiet of the forest.

The early morning sun peeked through the leaves, painting a picturesque view of the woods, a sharp contrast to the heavy, violent atmosphere headed its way.

Jungkook planted his feet on the ground first, tucking away his wings until they were out of sight. He angrily flicked what was left of Byun off his face, disgusted by the thick feel and metallic smell of mortal blood. 

Jimin followed right behind him, then Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin entered, Namjoon being the last to touch down on the forest floor.

Jimin and Jungkook met eyes with one another, their anger not even close to subsiding at the death of your captors. 

Yet, soon enough, curiosity and dread brought them out of their rage when they realized just how quiet it had gotten between the older members.

Jimin shifted his gaze, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the eldest brothers’ attention turn to Namjoon, who was standing deathly still, staring blankly ahead.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow as he glared down at the younger. Namjoon refused to meet his gaze.

The six of them stayed like that for a long time, even when they heard the loud beating of another pair of wings, and Taehyung joined them in the forest.

He turned to Jimin in confusion but the older simply shook his head and grabbed for his and Jungkook’s hands, squeezing them. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Seokjin spoke. 

“There is no mercy for the prideful,” he stated with finality.

Namjoon flinched away at the words, eyes stuck to the ground.

“You weren’t able to uphold your oath, Namjoon ah,” Hoseok said. His words were concerned, but his tone reeked of condescension.

“And because of that, because of your utter failure, our beloved angel got hurt.” Yoongi hissed. “She almost died.”

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin took menacing steps toward the leader. 

He heard his older brothers walking up to him, but refused to meet the wrath that was surely boiling in their gaze.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook watched on with bated breath, their hands still linked together.

Namjoon was frozen in place. 

As the leader of their group, there was rarely ever a moment where he was seen as weak. 

But the second he had received news of your capture, he lost even the strength to stand on his own two feet.

It was the thought of you, of saving you and bringing you to safety, that had kept him going. 

It was the only thing that had kept all seven of them sane.

Now that they knew you were going to live, he knew he couldn’t avoid his punishment any longer.

Namjoon’s facial expression didn’t change, even in the moment where, with surprising speed, Yoongi lashed out at him, decking him in the face and knocking him to the forest floor.

The student body president winced, gingerly gripping his nose as blood started to leak from it.

His older brothers stood, looking down at him in a mock semicircle.

“Yoongi ah,” Seokjin said, turning to the younger, “what is the punishment for those who commit the deadly sin of pride?”

“Being broken on the wheel, hyung.” Yoongi replied impassively. 

“Fortunately for you, or unfortunately, I should say,” Hoseok grinned down at Namjoon, “we don’t have a wheel.”

Seokjin stepped forward and lifted his foot above Namjoon’s right leg. 

“This is what happens when you place too much pride in yourself and in your actions.” He stated, then brought his foot down on Namjoon’s right leg.

He didn’t let up until there was a sick, audible crack. 

Namjoon reeled back, grunting in pain but refusing to scream. 

Yes, it hurt, but he knew he deserved it. He failed (Y/N). 

This is the least he could do to atone for his actions.

“All things considered, we’re being quite generous with you.” Yoongi stepped up next, kicking his broken leg aside to stomp down on his left one.

This time, Namjoon let out a jarring scream. 

“You still have the audacity to scream? To feel pain?” Yoongi ground his foot into the injury as though he were trying to put out a cigarette. “Imagine how much pain our beloved is in right now. Imagine what she wouldn’t have had to go through, had you done your job properly. Had you listened to us.”

The elder had never been kind or considerate when it came to delivering punishment, a fact that the younger brothers had quickly become accustomed to.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook looked on blankly, but inside they felt a deep sense of pity. 

Namjoon was their brother and their leader, the constant face of their strength.

It hurt to see him in so much pain, no matter how necessary it was. 

Namjoon sat on the forest floor, both legs twisted at an awkward angle. He grit his teeth together as he tried to control his breathing. 

He noticed no one else was approaching him, but he knew that the punishment wasn’t over yet, not so soon. He slowly, inquisitively lifted his head.

The eldest three looked at Namjoon expectedly. He pleadingly raised his eyebrows, but their stares held no mercy.

He bowed his head in defeat. 

The senior wrapped his right hand around his left forearm and squeezed until he heard something crack. 

There was the quick, soft sound of a sob coming out of his mouth, and then all was quiet. 

Hoseok went last, shuffling through the leaves on the forest floor to squat next to his younger brother, wiping away some of his tears and gently running his fingers through his hair. “We’re doing this for her. Everything we do is for her, you know that as well as we do.”

Namjoon glanced at him warily, tense because he knew what was coming next, but didn’t know when to expect it. 

“That’s why you’re prepared to face the consequences for your actions, yes...?”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Hoseok wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s right forearm, breaking the bone in a quick moment.

Namjoon clenched his teeth together so hard, he swore he heard something else crack. 

Any movement within the top or lower half of his body left him in excruciating pain, and he stifled a scream each time.

“You did so well, Joonie.” Hoseok continued patting his head. 

They surrounded him, praising him with how well he took his punishment. 

He was only able to withstand a few more minutes of cognizant thought before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Hoseok caught his younger brother, gently laying him back onto the dirt.

The six men stood in the silence, staring at the form of their treasured leader with pity. 

Seokjin turned around and met each of his younger brothers in the eye. He then wordlessly walked away from the clearing and Namjoon’s broken body.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed him, blank expressions on their face.

The youngest brothers were all too quick to pick up on the message. 

Overstep your boundaries, and endure the same fate. 

After taking one more look at Namjoon, the youngest brothers trekked out of the forest, silently following behind the other angels.

——————————————————————

When you finally pried your eyes open, you were greeted by an unfamiliar chill.

You were cold. So cold, the chill settled uncomfortably in your bones.

White blankets were tucked around you, pristine sheets morphing to mimic your form. 

For a moment, you incredulously thought that this must have been your arrival to heaven.

Then, you soon heard a monotonous beeping and you felt the subtle prick of wires along your skin, an IV casually grazing across the back of your hand. 

It hurt to move your right shoulder, and your abdomen ached, the areas bandaged so tight you could just barely feel them. 

There were bandages around your wrists and hand as well, and the pungent scent of ointment told you those were for your rope burns and bullet graze. 

Your head injuries were also wrapped, if you deduced the source of your current headache correctly. 

You were alive. Alive, and well taken care of.

“(Y/N)?”

You winced, your head not taking too kindly to the reintroduction of noise. A swivel to your right, however, and your mother’s worried face appeared.

“...Mom?” You voice cracked horribly, and she smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, lifting a water pitcher next to her and pouring you a glass of water.

You drank as if you were Tantalus himself.

“I was so worried.” your mother stated, her voice breaking right along with yours. The sound alone nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

She lifted her hands and grasped your uninjured one, intertwining your fingers.

 “I got paged yesterday morning and asked to come up to the eleventh floor, just to find out that you had been admitted.” Your mother spoke, answering your questions before you even got the chance to ask. “And at the request of the entire Kim family, no less. Kim Taehyung brought you in himself, claiming you’d been assaulted and found outside their door.”

You tilted your head, peering at your mother in disbelief. 

She met your gaze and flicked her eyes toward the door, then back towards you without turning around. You followed their direction.

Outside the small, rectangular window of the door, there stood a tall figure dressed in dark clothing.

Your mother leaned toward you and whispered. “That woman has been standing guard since the doctors finished their checkup.”

You gulped and nodded in understanding.

“(Y/N).” Her tone shifted slightly, still holding concern but taking a solemn turn. “I never ask you questions about how school is and your life is going. We usually leave each other to our own devices, and that’s clearly been a mistake on my part. But I need you to be completely honest with me here.”

“Have you displeased the Kims in any way?” Her grip on your uninjured hand tightened to the point where all of your knuckles turned white. “If they have you here under some sort of watch until the next meeting...if they’re trying to...” 

Your mother gulped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence. 

Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. “Tell me. I’ll go alert a trustworthy coworker, and I will have you out of this town before Kim Moonsik can utter another prayer.”

Your eyes widened comically. “Mom, no! Nothing like that happened. They saved me. The Kims saved my life.” You repeated, gripping her hands. “If they hadn’t brought me here, I would have-” 

The weight of your words finally hit you, and before you could realize, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I could have...”

You fought to speak through the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry I never told you about my day, I just thought I’d be able to handle it all by myself. The police commissioner’s daughter, she was trying to get rid of me and she-Mom, she-”

Your mother cupped your cheeks as your tears cascaded down your face. She gently rubbed your lower back as you muffled your cries by burying your head into her neck.

She didn’t let you go for a while, even after you managed to collect yourself. 

She poured you another glass of water and you sipped at the beverage, telling her the trials you’d faced these past couple of weeks.

“I thought it was a regular instance of bullying,” you sniffled, putting the plastic cup down. “that she didn’t want me getting too close to her crush. So I endured because I had no intention of taking anything of hers away. Who am I, in Ichabod, compared to a woman of prestige like that?” You sarcastically asked.

“But apparently, my mere existence bothered her.” You shakily recounted what had ultimately been the most terrifying moments of your life to your mother. 

You obscured some parts of the story, not wanting your mother to worry even more, and claimed that the Augustus’ men had taken you to the clearing to scare you and beat you up, and that you surmised they dropped you off outside of the Kim home afterward. 

By the time she finished hearing the whole story, her grip had embedded itself into the edge of the hospital bed. 

Your mother’s vexation was interrupted by the sound of people speaking outside your door.

“Ma’am, I apologize. By the order of Kim Moonsik, only family members are allowed to visit the patient right now.” The figure outside your door spoke with an uninterested tone.

“With all due respect, officer, please don’t assume my gender.” You heard a familiar voice snipe. “My best friend is lying in there and she’s practically a sister to me. I don’t particularly give a damn about your order. Kim Moonsik can kiss my-”

“Mana!” You yelled, trying to catch both of their attention before your best friend could get themselves arrested. 

You flipped the hospital blankets off of you and your mother helped you to your feet, then to the door. The injuries on your abdomen and head protested with every step.

The guard’s eyes widened a bit as you slid the door open, and so did the eyes of every hospital staff within sight of your room. 

“Ms. (L/N), I implore you, please go back to bed to rest!” A nurse in the hallway rushed over. 

The guard hastily nodded in agreement. “Yes, please do. I sincerely apologize for the commotion.”

You waved them off, reaching a hand out to Mana. “I'll go back to bed, but only if you let Mana in. They’re family.”

Mana stood in the hallway, hurriedly dressed in sweatpants, a disheveled oversized hoodie, and sneakers, but gingerly holding a teddy bear with a card.

The guard looked between you, Mana, and the nurse for quite some time. The nurse’s frantic expression must have convinced her, though, because she finally stepped aside.

Mana extended their arm, gently grabbing your hand in return and waltzing past the security guard with a smug expression. 

The moment the three of you were back in the room, however, they ushered you back to bed as well.

“(N/N)!” Mana said, going to hug you, then rethinking it when they spotted all the bandages. 

They placed the teddy bear in your arms and stood a card that cheerily read “Get Well Soon!” on your nightstand. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry--I should have been there with you!”

“My head and chest hurt, but I’m alright.” You shook your head with a small smile, clutching the doll to your chest. “Don’t apologize, you had no idea this was going to happen. This was all the result of my stupid decision--I was the one who fell into her trap.”

Your mother excused herself, leaving you and Mana alone for a few minutes.

You filled them in on what had happened to you, withholding no details, and their face lit up in anger. “She ordered them to take you to Lorne’s Ledge?! That psychotic cunt! Just wait until I drag her across the square, we’ll see how high and mighty she is then-”

“Mana, calm down.” You smiled, thankful for your friend’s protectiveness, but weary after everything you’d just gone through. 

“I never want to stoop to her level,” you admitted, wringing the sheets in your hands. 

Your mother gently slid open the door, returning with water and a tray of food for you.

“I think...I’ve had enough of mind games and tricks for a while.” You whispered, then smiled at her as she lay the meal in front of you.

Mana’s gaze turned soft, and they patted your hands and back in support. 

“I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Kims hadn’t gotten there in time.” your mother muttered. 

You nodded in agreement. 

You weren’t particularly sure how or why, but the Kims had saved your life. 

Not only had they offered you some of the best care in the city, free of charge, but they even stationed people outside your room.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something told you that holding them with such a mindset would put you exactly where they wanted you to be. 

Yet something else countered that thought, claiming that it was that same distancing mindset that had pushed you into the arms of danger in the first place. 

Perhaps Mayor Kim felt responsible for it because his men got usurped by a high school girl.

Or, perhaps, it was his sons who felt even more responsible.

Your mother and Mana stayed with you the rest of the night, each taking up their own positions on the furniture. Mana draped themself on the couch while your mother took the armchair.

You allowed yourself to drift off to the sound of them breathing, the chill and fear of the previous morning now a distant, foreign thing.

——————————————————————

Your mother and Mana weren’t constantly at your side, as one had to attend to her duties at work and the other had to go to school. 

There were other individuals who were perfectly happy to waste the day with you, though.

On the first day, you were visited by Jimin.

The sophomore’s usual high-energy self was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into your hospital room holding a small bouquet of (your favorite flowers). 

Jimin rushed at you, barely giving himself enough time to greet him before he fell to his knees in front of your hospital bed. 

You gasped aloud in surprise and urged him to stand, but he would have none of it. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His eyes glistened as water streaked down his cherubic face. “If I had read your message earlier, if I hadn’t been so stupid to turn my phone off, you never would have gotten hurt like this.”

You winced as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, your hand only hurting slightly less than it had before. “You didn’t know at the time, I wouldn’t blame you for that. When you did know, you rushed to help me. That’s something I will be forever grateful to you for.” 

You exhaled and smiled your rare, genuine smile, a warm countenance on your face that pierced Jimin’s soul. “So please,” you held your hand out to Jimin.

The boy looked up, pitiful expression morphing into a delighted smile. He gently took your hand and stood, then ushered you to rest comfortably back at the top of the bed. 

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, Jimin distracting you from your current situation with stories about his family and their travels. 

By the time you realized you’d never gotten answers to your questions, the sun was starting to set and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open in the middle of Jimin’s conversation.

If the raven haired boy had noticed it, he didn’t say anything. 

If anything, he continued speaking, his voice low and chiming with laughter as he recounted precious memories.

When he heard the familiar sound of your soft, slow breathing, he stopped. He simply gazed upon your visage, smiling at the way your (s/c) skin lit up in the afternoon sun and held a hand up to block the light from getting in your eyes.

He stayed that way for the next several minutes, then gently caressed your cheek, letting his hands linger for shorter than he would have liked.

Once the night was well underway, Jimin collected his things and left your side with one more forlorn look.

He shot a strict gaze at the guard, who gulped and nodded at the unspoken order.

Finally, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the elevators. 

——————————————————————

On the second day, you were visited by Taehyung. You were still asleep when he first came into the room, but your mother was sitting beside you and her eyes widened when she saw him.

Before the younger boy could even speak, the older woman bowed low in gratitude.

Few people had ever seen your mother in a vulnerable state, you included, as she purposefully made it so. 

Taehyung was a rare exception that day as he gently gripped her shoulders, feeling the slight trembles that coursed through her as he straightened her posture. 

Suppressing an amused smile, Taehyung thought of the differences between you and his supposed mother. 

While the actress trembled out of fear for her own life, your mother shook at the thought of losing you.

As expected from the woman who raised you, their perfect treasure.

“I can never repay you for the hospitality you’ve shown my daughter,” your mother whispered.

“There’s no need for such matters, Ms. (L/N). We’ll always protect and watch out for your daughter. We’re honored to have her in our lives.” Taehyung replied with a sincere tone.

She accepted the flowers he brought, carefully laying the bouquet on your nightstand, right next to the vase where Jimin’s flowers lay. 

When you did wake up, you had your own chance to thank Taehyung for finding you and bringing you to safety, along with sponsoring your stay in the hospital. 

He waved away your thanks, claiming that he was simply glad that you had turned to Jimin for assistance so that they were able to know about it.

“You know we’ll always be there for you, right (Y/N)?”

Always.

“Just say the word and we’ll come running.”

We love you.

His heart ached with the weight of the words he couldn’t say.

But you smiled in appreciation and he melted, as it was the smile they had longed to see for so long. The one that you usually reserved for your mother or Mana, the one that they had only gotten glimpses of in the time that they had known you.

He wouldn’t let you do anything for yourself the entire time, claiming you needed to rest up and heal as soon as possible. You reluctantly agreed, enjoying an unusually lazy day.

He played music for you, and soon enough the two of you were lost in a passionate conversation about your favorite artists. Funnily enough, there were several of them who you shared interest in.

Before Taehyung returned home for the day, he insisted on covering you with the blanket as well, tucking it up to your neck and pressing it in at the sides.

Your eyes were closed out of embarrassment as his form hung over yours. 

He fought the urge to bend down and kiss your forehead, for he still feared that he could frighten you away.

Instead, he reached up and switched off the light directly above your bed. With an ambiguous smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

——————————————————————

On the third day, you were visited by Jungkook.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at first, considering how soft-spoken the freshman tended to be around you.

When you tried shifting the conversation by asking him about his personal interests and passions, however, his eyes lit up.

Jungkook demonstrated several different types of punches for you in the room, even helping you weakly set up your form with your still healing hands. 

You learned much more about boxing forms and gaming techniques that day than you could ever remember, but you did leave with plans to have private self-defense lessons with Jungkook after you’d finished healing.

At some point during his visit, you had drifted off and by the time you woke up again, Jungkook was already gone. 

You panicked slightly, worried that he’d be upset and think that you wanted him to leave. As you turned to your phone, however, you noticed a folded piece of paper resting on top of the back of it.

When you opened the paper, you saw a beautiful pen-and-ink sketch of you, lying in your hospital bed and napping. 

Jungkook had somehow taken your messy, disheveled state and turned it into something that evoked a tender feeling within you.

You grinned down at the paper, amazed by his talent. Was this how he saw you? As this...ephemeral, peaceful being?

You gently stood the paper up so that it rested between the two vases that housed Jimin and Taehyung’s flowers, right next to Mana’s card.

The afternoon soon gave way to evening, then evening to night.

——————————————————————

On the fourth day, Seokjin saved you from the monotony of bland, hospital food by bringing you home cooked meals. 

The mere smell of the dishes had your mouth watering. 

He refused to let you do anything yourself, much like Taehyung had the other day. But unlike Taehyung, Jin went so far as to feed you himself.

It was embarrassing, but no matter how much you protested, he wouldn’t let up.

He sat in the chair your mother usually preoccupied and held the utensils out to you, neatly making sure you finished your meals.

At one point, he pretended the food was an airplane and you playfully slapped his arm, resulting in him dissolving into a surprising windshield-wiper-like laugh. 

Jin spent the rest of the day with you, telling you awful jokes that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have found that funny. 

His companionship was greatly appreciated, however, and you found that you grew surprisingly fond of his laugh.

Before Jin left for the evening, he gently lifted your hand and placed it in his lap, then revealed another bag he’d brought on his visit.

To your surprise, he clipped a small (silver/gold/rose gold) bracelet around your wrist. The ornament carried two charms: one of a well-detailed moon, the other a pair of angel wings.

You rushed to have him take the bracelet off, hesitant to accept such a valuable gift. 

Yet the look in his eyes pierced right through you, his previous joy still present and glimmering but hidden beneath the depths of something more sinister.

You leaned against your pillows as Jin gently lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, just like he had the first night you met. 

“The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” He smiled, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your wrist. “Keep it. For me?”

It wasn’t a request.

——————————————————————

On the fifth day, you were visited by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You were slightly surprised at the fact that they had come together, as their outer attitudes seemed to be opposites, but you found that they complemented each other very well. 

They were extremely considerate of you, allowing you to do things for yourself but offering their assistance should you need it. 

Hoseok spent the day cheering you up by performing routines for you in the little space the room provided.

As strict as he was infamous for being, Hoseok clearly knew his craft. You were mesmerized by his movements and insisted on clapping for each of his performances, your hand healing quite nicely now.

Yoongi delighted you with tales of his rambunctious actions in high school, and some of the best well-kept faculty secrets.

There were several things you learned about Ms. Divii and Mrs. Hargrove that day that you would have been perfectly happy not knowing for the rest of your life, but you giggled and gossiped all the same.

It appeared as though the elder Kim brothers had a similar thought process, as Hoseok and Yoongi each gifted you (silver/gold/rose gold) jewelry similar to what you had received the day prior.

Hoseok looked as though we was going to cry when you went to turn down his gift.

One sharp look from Yoongi later, you closed your mouth, smiled, and expressed your thanks.

Hoseok fondly clipped the necklace onto you, his heart performing somersaults as you leaned into his embrace. 

He silently gulped, overcome by the sudden desire to press his lips to your neck. 

When he made eye contact with Yoongi over your shoulder, his face reddened slightly as the elder smirked at him.

He reigned in the perceptible want in his eyes and leaned back, flashing you his signature smile. “There you are, angel. Pretty as a picture.”

You lowered your head to hide your flush. “You guys really don’t have to bring me these gifts,” you murmured lightly. 

“With a visage as perfect as yours, we simply can’t help ourselves.” Yoongi stated in reply, lifting your ring finger to slide a band onto it. 

How unfortunate it was that it was the right hand instead of the left.

He was able to hide his disappointment from you, but not from Hoseok. 

Nevertheless, there would surely be an opportunity in the near future.

How else would all of those worthless people know that you belonged to them?

——————————————————————

On the sixth day, Namjoon limped his way into your hospital room, a grimace on his face. 

You greeted him with a warm smile that quickly shifted into a worried expression. “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

Namjoon nodded, taking the seat next to your bed. “I injured my leg, it’s nothing serious. I should be perfectly alright soon.”

Seokjin had been kind enough to heal most of his limbs, the elder worried about your reaction to seeing him in such a state. 

They purposefully made him wait in agonizing pain for nearly a week, however, to rub the punishment in, before clearing him to go visit you. 

It seemed as though the student body president had lost his usual self-assured, constantly amused atmosphere. He was strangely quiet, and his body language was similar to that of a man who’d been beaten into submission. 

That was far from the Kim Namjoon you knew.

For several moments, the two of you sat in awkward silence.

The two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time you spoke. Just thinking back to that moment when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, completely in control, made him cringe. 

Then, you turned and smiled at him. “You know, if you really need to, you could always join me as a patient. It’d definitely make the days less boring.”

Namjoon knew you knew there was a change in his attitude, and rather than lording that over him, you simply welcomed him as you usually did.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” The words blurt out before he could stop them.

You shook your head, slightly amused. “What’s with you and Jimin these days? You don’t need to apologize for saving me. Unless you want to, and, well, that’s a completely separate manner--”

“No!” Namjoon lifted his hands up and waved them around. “I just-"

You smiled, entertained by the frantic side of the normally suave, composed teen. “Think nothing of it, Namjoon. You have nothing you need to apologize to me for.”

Your expression darkened slightly as you continued. “If anything, I should apologize for not trusting you all more.”

Namjoon’s lips quivered, desperately wanting to form a victorious smirk, but he settled for an understanding smile.

In the end, he’d been right.

As usual.

“Who remains close to you, who you decide to trust, that’s completely your decision. You should never have to apologize for it.” Namjoon said.

You smiled in acknowledgement, then furrowed your brows in confusion when Namjoon started to dig around in his bag.

“I heard we were gift giving this week.” He pulled out a beautiful, leather bound journal and fountain pen and carefully placed the items on your lap. 

“This is absolutely gorgeous. How did you know I like writing?” You smiled. 

Of course he knew. He knew everything about you.

“I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging with a small smile. “I like to write in journals as a form of catharsis, and thought you might want to try.”

“Thank you so much.” You lifted an arm up and gestured for a one armed hug, one that Namjoon happily accepted.

Clutching the journal to your chest, you gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been running around in your head the past week.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“How did you guys find me in time?”

The elder clenched his jaw and shifted his gaze aside as if he couldn’t beat to direct his apparent anger and frustration toward you. 

“We heard from Jimin that Aemilia took you and interrogated the police commissioner about any of our private guard’s movements. He fessed and told us that Aemilia told him that I texted her, claiming that there was another soul in need of punishment.” 

Namjoon grit his teeth, vexation rolling off of him in waves as he practically hissed out his words. “He authorized members of our private force to move under her order in order to subdue you.”

Recounting the ridiculous lie that the redhead told her father, and the father’s idiotic tendency to believe her, made his blood hot.

“After we heard that, we rushed to all the places in the forest that the Augustus men might have taken you. Thankfully, we got to Lorne’s Ledge in time and Jimin was able to save you before you could fall off the edge.”

“Are you sure?” You said. “I could have sworn I stepped off...I thought I was a goner.”

Namjoon shook his head. “We definitely got there in time to save you. You sustained several head injuries, so I’d understand if you didn’t see Jimin or blacked out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering his response for several moments before nodding at his answer. 

There was no way you would ever be able to forget what happened that night.

You knew for a fact that your feet had left the ledge. 

But he was right, you did take several nasty hits from Byun and Lee.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, but the pained, forced look in his eye made you pause on that front.

Perhaps that projection you saw of your mother had actually been Jimin.

You wrung your hands together. 

“What matters now is that you’re safe and sound.” Namjoon gently placed his hand atop yours and gave it a supporting squeeze. “All you need to focus on is getting better. We definitely won’t let them get away with this.”

You nodded again, smiling slightly at Namjoon in thanks for his concern.

——————————————————————

Halfway across town, Aemilia Augustus paced around in her room, practically biting off her perfectly manicured nails in worry.

It had been seven days. 

Seven days of nothing.

Not a single word had come in from Byun or Lee.

When she arrived at school that first day and heard everyone talking about your absence, she felt pure and utter bliss. 

There was no joy like the joy she felt in that moment.

Such euphoria simply couldn’t be replaced.

The only moments that could possibly top it were her future engagement with Kim Namjoon, or the day she would take over her family business.

Because so many days went by without a single peep at your face, she thought her plan was working. 

She felt on top of the world.

But Byun and Lee were two of the most promising soldiers on the squad. There was no reason as to why they were taking so long to get back to her to confirm your measly little death.

As a result, she was starting to panic.

Of course, she had an emergency plan. 

She had no need for it, as there was no way her plan could go wrong, but she always had to be prepared, after all.

Just as she was about to take deep breaths to calm herself down, she jumped at the sound of pounding footsteps and yelps drifting into her room from downstairs.

She heard the annoying cry of her mother and father, and then the sound of several people talking.

A grim chill fell over her.

Unexpectedly, her plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There wasn’t much time left now, as she could hear the footsteps get closer and closer.

To hell with her parents--their capture was inevitable.

Aemilia Augustus would not be captured like a criminal, not as long as she was alive and well.

Aemilia padded over to her bedroom door, shutting it closed as softly as possible and smacking the lights off.

She dove into her walk-in closet and squeezed herself as tightly as possible into a corner, a rack of evening gowns and day dresses covering her.

Every couple of minutes, a door would slam open and she listened, holding a hand over her mouth as the pounding feet searched every room on her floor.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at her room, and she shook as she heard them throw things around.

A rectangle of light shone into the room as someone opened the closet door and Aemilia stilled as though she were encased in ice.

It was silent for a long, dreadful moment. The officer turned their head this way and that, walking into the room and turning on the light to search.

From where Aemilia was hidden, there was no way they would be able to find her. She thanked Wylynne that she hadn’t taken up on her mother’s offer to hire a maid to clean her closet.

The officer turned away to leave and Aemilia cheered in her heart.

After the guards left the premises, she would collect as many valuables as possible from the house and run off to her family’s private home in another part of town. From there, she would plan what to do next.

Her plan wasn’t perfect, but she would be able to get away with it.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Just as the officer was about to close the door, a strong, invisible force yanked Aemilia out from her hiding spot and she came crashing down noisily from behind the evening gowns, taking a few with her.

The officer immediately turned around, beckoning his partner to get her. 

She hurriedly gripped a platform heel and attempted to plunge it in the man’s eye, but he caught her wrist and painfully twisted her arm behind her back.

The redhead screeched in fury and pain. His partner soon joined him, and they dragged her out into her room, each officer tightly holding on to one of her arms.

“What are you doing? Unhand me this instant!” She shrieked, writhing around in an attempt to escape. “Have you forgotten who you take orders from?!”

“No, but it seems as though you have.” 

She paused at the sound of that familiar voice.

Her beloved casually strode into the room in all of his glory, his head held high, that ever present cocky, amused smile that she loved so much on his face.

“Namjoon.” She whimpered. “Namjoon, they’re hurting me.”

The student body president kneeled down in front of her and gently took her chin in his hands.

Her eyes filled with tears and she stuck out her bottom lip, waiting for Namjoon to tell the men to let her go. They better anticipate the earful they were about to receive. How dare they treat their future queen this way?

Namjoon lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, looking up at him with a pitiful gaze. He smiled at her.

Surely he would save her.

Aemilia closed her eyes, suppressing a victorious smile as she felt Namjoon pull his hand away from her face.

But rather than the sound of him barking orders, she was met with the sound of a harsh slap.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Her face stung.

“Nam..joon...?” She whispered, stupefied.

The senior was sneering down at her, pulling a handkerchief out the square pocket of his jacket and wiping his hand on it.

“What disgusting thoughts you have,” the man spat, dropping the handkerchief in another subordinate’s hand. 

“Burn that.” He commanded.

Aemilia simply stared up at him in disbelief. 

Had he...hit her?

“Namjoon, why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled. “You’d never hit me, you’re my...we’re-”

“Nothing.” Namjoon interrupted with a disinterested gaze. “I am not your anything. I’ve never given you any inclination that could lead you to assume that I loved you, or liked you, or cared for you in the slightest.”

Aemilia dropped to her knees in incredulity. 

“That’s not true! You cared for me, I know you did! Ever since that (h/c) haired bitch appeared, you’ve turned away from me!” She screeched, her shrill voice piercing their ears. “I should’ve gotten rid of her sooner!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all the air in Aemilia’s lungs disappeared. She heaved her chest, trying to breath, but found herself unable to.

He squatted down to face her.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear.” Namjoon spoke in a frighteningly low tone. “I never cared for you. You were nothing more than a useful little pawn in my game. A pawn who somehow tricked herself into believing she could become a queen.”

Her face turned redder and redder from anger, embarrassment, and the lack of oxygen.

“(Y/N) is more of a queen than you could ever be,” Namjoon stated, smiling at the memory of you sitting up in your hospital bed, grinning at him, the sun forming a halo behind your head. “She’s an angel. Our precious everything.”

He turned his gaze back to the creature before him. “She isn’t someone the likes of you can ever attempt to touch, much less harm or overthrow.”

Namjoon straightened, moving to walk towards the entrance to her room. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. After all, I wasn’t able to properly regulate my inferiors.”

Black dots swam at the edge of Aemilia’s vision. She kept her eyes locked on Namjoon, still praying that this was all a prank or a joke, and that he would comfort her by sweeping her up into his arms.

“You truly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” He chuckled with a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that soon enough.”

Finally, her body gave in and shut down from the lack of oxygen. The redhead flopped over on her side, Namjoon’s cruel glare burned into the backs of her eyes.

——————————————————————

On the morning of the seventh day, you took advantage of your solitude by pondering the events of this week and the rather complicated emotions that came with them. 

Despite their reputation and despite your fears, you had grown closer to the Kims over the past month. 

They never threatened or harmed you or the people you cared about. They had welcomed you into their lives with open arms. 

You had kept them at an arms length in an effort to protect yourself and your loved ones. But what had distancing yourself from them gained you?

Still, there was no way your method could be wrong. It was your livelihood, your path to survival in Ichabod. 

There were rules here, rules that couldn’t be broken. 

Yet the majority of those rules had been broken the moment you invited Jimin to sit with you at lunch.

Was it even possible that an alternative path to salvation freedom existed?

Had the Kims truly provided another way? 

Your mother went around the room collecting and packing up your things for you as Mana helped you change in the bathroom, making sure to be careful of your still-healing shoulder.

When they left to fetch your discharge papers, you sat at the edge of the hospital bed and deliberated what could potentially be one of the most important decisions of your life.——————————————————————

i am so, so, so sorry for taking longer than usual to post! college and midterm season caught up with me--i’ll try not to let assignments interfere with my writing schedule in the future ;-;-; thank you so much for sticking with me through the wait! the long awaited day has finally come! revenge has never been so sweet hehe. also, the way that i have no idea how to write fight scenes--pfft. i hope you all enjoy the chapter <33

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy @queenceline22 @kokofikats @taeyohonic @creatorspalace @supertweetycherry @anachikartadze @itsfeliciatime 

[emeriethevalkyriegirl]

Request from @vinylcryes

Rhysand glanced at the two mates sitting next to him and Feyre. Nesta and Cassian. Someone he never thought would ever find love. And especially not with his brother. When it first came to mind that this women would be Cassian’s mate, he wanted to grab the Cauldron himself and demand another woman be suited for his brother. But now, looking at them…

“Rhysand?” Rhysand snapped out of his thoughts as Feyre looked at him with concern. Rhysand cleared his throat, turning his eyes away from the giggling couple. “It’s nothing, I’m find.” He can’t lie to his mate. Feyre glared at him. “Rhysand, what is it?”

“I’m telling you it’s fine.”

Before Feyre could retaliate, she heard an infant crying from his nursery. Rhysand groaned. “Can’t he just fall asleep for at least an hour?” He asked himself as Nesta suddenly held her nose. “I think I may know the reason why he’s awake.” Feyre facepalmed. “Rhysand, I told you not to give him that funnel cake that Elain made earlier.”

“How was I suppose to know it would pass through so quickly?”

As the two of them continued to argue, Nesta rolled her eyes and looked at Cassian. “Maybe we should give it a shot.” Confused, Cassian placed his hand on her ass, gripping it, like a squeaky peach. “You mean for a baby?” Nesta barked a laugh startling everyone in the house. “No! Well, yes maybe but no. I mean to change a diaper. You know, when it happens.”

Feyre and Rhysand finally stopped arguing to hear that comment. Rhysand was about to refuse but Feyre beat him to it. “Are you sure? He tends to piss on people.”

“That would be a blessing.” Rhysand muttered towards Nesta before Feyre jabbed his chest with her elbow. Nesta didn’t mind the insult. “We’ll be fine. Plus, Cassian looks good in yellow.” Nesta replied as she got up from Cassian’s lap and headed towards Nyx’s room. Cassian got up and followed her when he realized what she meant. “I thought I look better with green!”

———————

It’s been about an hour and Rhysand was getting restless. He was no longing sitting down and he was tapping his foot on the floor impatient. “What’s going on up there?”

“Rhys-“

“They’ve been up there for and hour now. What if she’s done something to him? What if they did something wrong?”

“Rhys!”

“What if she-“

“RHYSAND!” Feyre yelled startling the High Lord. “My sister will never hurt her nephew. She loves him too much. And you need to stop worrying about the worst of her. She and Cassian came her to catch up on things. And she’s doing well on it. So please for once, can you not think about the bad things about her and think about all the good she’s done. Like actually save me and Nyx from death?”

Rhysand stopped tapping his foot and thought about it. She did a lot of unforgivable things in the past. A lot of unspeakable insults she spread towards the Inner Circle. But what she did for Feyre and Nyx? What she didn’t have to do but did anyway? He owed her that. No matter what.

Rhysand sighed. “Okay, but I still wanna check on the baby.” Rhysand raced upstairs before Feyre could say otherwise. When he made it to his son’s room he heard laughter and gibberish talking. “What the?” He said before he opened the door to the nursery.

He found his brother holding Nesta in his arms and Nesta cradling Nyx in hers. Cassian was making funny facing at him while also talking gibberish to really make him giggle. Nesta also laughed at his faces but tried to contained them herself but failed.

When Nesta noticed Rhysand standing in the door way, she smiled. Actually smiled. Like they’ve been friends for a long time. “Sorry it took so long. Nyx has a special power that can control people with his poses and laughter. It’s called cuteness.” Rhysand walked over to the mated couple and smiled too. “It’s alright. You did change his diaper right?”

“Of course we did. Yellow does go with white. At least for Cassian anyway.” Rhysand noticed that Nesta was referring to a yellow stain on Cassian’s white shirt. Cassian frowned. “You just had to bring that up did you?”

“It adds color.” Cassian stuck his tongue out at her like a misbehaved child earning a giggle from Nyx.

Rhysand did get Nesta wrong. He owed her everything. If it weren’t for her, Nyx wouldn’t be in his life. And neither would Feyre. He hoped that one day, he will have a way of thanking her.

[myriadimagines]

Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Amy Santiago

Warnings: theft, threats of violence

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case.

Part One: Chips and Orange Soda

Word Count: 2,319

A/N: the second part to my submission for @locke-writes​​‘ writing challenge!! admittedly it gets kind of into an ethical dilemma that i didnt mean to go into and that’s unnecessarily deep but you’ll see what i mean ajskdhas but anyway disclaimer again!! not in law enforcement!!! this is not accurate when it comes to crimes!!! i really hope the reveal/ending isn’t too disappointing and that u guys still enjoyed the story!!! it does get a little more serious in this part but i still hope it’s in character/tone with the show!!

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

Jake is careful to open up the door of the bodega, which is all bordered up with tape as the shattered glass has yet to be replaced. The inside looks better at least, no longer sectioned off with police tape, and business seems to be going on as usual, with customers in between the aisles and some at the counter. Jake resists the urge to grab a snack for himself, and he glances around the room, frowning as he realises there’s no sight of you.

Jake finally approaches a young man manning the cash register. “Hey man, is y/n in?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry dude, they don’t work Tuesdays.”

Jake smacks the side of his head, remembering how you mentioned it to him. He moves to exit the store when he notices the live security footage playing on the screen behind the counter. Pointing it out, Jake says, “Hey, looks like you got your cameras working again.” 

The man looks over his shoulder, before turning back to Jake with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

Jake frowns slightly, his hand falling to his side. “y/n told me that your cameras were down last week.” 

The man remains confused, staring at Jake as if he’s speaking another language. Slowly, he finally responds, “Nah, they’ve been working fine. I don’t know what y/n’s talking about.” 

Something inside of Jake’s stomach twists, and he frowns. Despite how hard he’s been trying to defend you, he can’t help but admit to himself that you’re not making it easy. He digs through his pockets, pulling out an old receipt, and he grins to himself as he flips it over and finds your number on the other side. Pulling out his phone, he cringes slightly at his 6% battery level, and he hopes he has enough to make a call.

Dialling in your number, he raises the phone to his ear. It rings a few times before someone finally picks up the phone. Taking in a deep breath, Jake says, “y/n? It’s Jake, the detective from last week. We… we need to talk.” 

—

Jake paces around the briefing room, shaking his head as he tries to piece everything together. After coming back to the precinct following his failed attempt to find you at the bodega, Jake had filled up a corkboard with pictures and other small pieces of evidence he and Rosa were able to gather, although it was looking rather sparse. Your lie about the security cameras definitely presents as an obstacle, but he tries not to think the worst of it. He hasn’t told Rosa yet, who had gone out to meet with the forensics team again, fearing what her reaction would be towards you. Maybe you were mistaken, maybe the robbers managed to figure out a way to wipe the footage. But something about the situation doesn’t sit right with Jake, and he lets out a defeated sigh. 

“Hey, Jake,” Amy peeks her head inside, knocking at the door, and Jake looks up. She gestures back to the bullpen as she continues, “You’ve got someone here to see you. Sounds like they’ve got some information on the bodega robberies.” 

Jake perks up, rushing past Amy out of the room. His eyes widen as he sees you linger by his desk, nervously glancing around the room. He nods as a thank you to Amy before making his way over to you, and he greets, “Hey, y/n, thanks for coming in. How have you been doing?”

You meet Jake’s gaze, and you can’t help but soften at his tone. He seems to genuinely care, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Nodding, you reassure him, “I’m okay. I’m… I’m glad you reached out, actually. There are some things that I need to tell you about. Can we go for a walk?” 

Jake hesitates. He knows that he should probably bring you to the interrogation room instead, but he finds himself nodding. He grabs his leather jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and he nods towards the elevator as he remarks, “Sure. Let’s go.”

—

You and Jake make your way through the streets of Brooklyn, finding yourself at a nearby local park. You can’t help but smile at the sight of children running around, squealing at one another as they chase each other in some sort of game, but you can’t ignore the pit in your stomach, the gnawing guilt that has plagued you ever since your first interaction with Jake.

You finally happen upon an empty bench in a quiet corner of the park and you silently take a seat. Jake sits beside you, and your breath begins to tremble. Jake patiently waits for you, eyes wide with concern as he finds himself shifting closer to you, subconsciously wanting to comfort you despite not knowing what’s to come. 

“I… I haven’t told you everything that I know about the bodega.” you finally confess, and Jake takes in a deep breath. He nods slowly, silently urging you to continue, and you look up to meet his gaze as you continue, “I know who did it. And the other robberies, too.”

Jake stares at you, and you can tell it’s clearly a lot of information to take in. He presses his lips together, trying to process all this, before he quietly asks, “You’re trying to protect someone, aren’t you?” 

Your expression crumples, and your shoulders slump as you bury your face in your hands. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t cry, but as the overwhelming reality of the situation begins to sink in, you’re suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Jake’s expression falls, and despite knowing that the two of you are practically strangers, he wraps an arm around you, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm as he tries to soothe you. 

“It feels like I’ve been trying to protect him all my life, but I- I feel like I can’t, anymore.” you manage to say through sobs, and Jake frowns, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Gulping, you finally reveal, “My brother.”

Jake sucks in a sharp breath. He’s all too familiar himself with broken homes, with strained familial relationships. You’re almost afraid to look at him, but Jake’s expression is one of understanding, of sympathy. He gently reassures you, “Take all the time you need, alright?” 

You nod, trying to compose yourself the best you can. You fold your hands into your lap, perhaps a poor attempt at stopping them from shaking, and you manage to hold your tears back long enough for you to begin explaining, “It was always just me and my brother, you know? My single mom had to raise us, but we barely saw her because she was always working. But my brother and I always had each other’s backs, and I thought it would be that way forever.”

You’re distracted as a pair of kids dart past you, and Jake notices the bittersweet smile that appears on your face as you watch them. Quietly, he prompts, “When did you feel like things started to go wrong?” 

“I mean, my brother was always a rowdy kid, always getting into trouble, but it just kept getting worse and worse. I’d try to bail him out, but there was only so much I could do.” you continue. “As we got older, I started seeing him less and less. He’d show up whenever he needed help, but that was it. Until he showed up the night before the bodega robbery.”

“He came to see you?” Jake’s eyes widen in alarm, and you nod. You can feel a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach as you think back to that night, and you uneasily run your hands through your hair. 

“I didn’t know he had robbed those other bodegas. But he came around asking for me to let him and his friend in, basically. Asked me for the key. I told him no, that I could just lend him money, and he… he got angry.” your voice shakes slightly as you stare off at some point in the distance. “We’ve had our fights, obviously, but this was different. I was almost scared of him.”

You screw your eyes shut as you remember seeing the smashed in front door, the fear swallowing you whole as you worried what might happen next. Jake doesn’t try to prompt you further, knowing how difficult this must be for you, and he lets out a soft sigh as he wishes that you didn’t have to go through such a thing.

“I don’t want him to go to jail. I just want him to be okay.” you can feel your words getting caught in your throat as you struggle to continue speaking. “But he doesn’t even feel like my brother anymore. That night was just… I- I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“What about the cameras?” Jake quietly asks.

“That was me.” you sigh, nervously wringing your hands together. “I couldn’t sleep that night, so eventually, I… I just got up and went to see if he had really done it. Part of me still had hope that maybe he didn’t. When I saw the door broken in it just… crushed me. I almost feel like he did it on purpose, to scare me. But I still wanted to protect him, so I… I went in to delete the security footage, and rushed out before anyone could see me.”

Jake leans back onto the bench. This is it, he realises. With your revelations, it seems as though the case is solved. But seeing the heartbreak on your face doesn’t make the solved case as satisfying as it usually is.

“I just feel like I’ve failed him.” your shoulders slump, your voice barely audible. “He’s my family I have, and I just… I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.” 

“Hey, you didn’t fail him, y/n,” Jake gently insists, and to your surprise, he reaches out to take your hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’ve been an awesome sibling, better than he deserves, really. But he chose to do this, and that’s not on you.” 

You nod, trying your best to believe him, and from the earnest expression on Jake’s face, you feel like you could. You manage to muster up a smile, and Jake smiles back at you. Nodding back in the direction of the precinct, Jake tells you, “I do need you to need you to come back to the precinct to make a statement. But you’ve really helped us, y/n, and you did the right thing.” 

A part of you has doubts, but you try your best to take comfort in Jake’s words. Jake gets to his feet, and you stand up with him, and Jake offers you a small smile that reassures you that everything will be okay. 

—

You bump the cash machine closed with your elbow as you count out some change. Sliding it over to the customer alongside their bag of snacks, you politely smile at them before they step aside to leave. You wave the next customer in line forward, only to realise it’s Jake standing before you, and your eyes widen as he offers you a sheepish grin. He steps up to the counter, placing down a bag of chips and a bottle of orange soda, and you exchange a knowing smile as you lean forward, “Hey, Jake. Did… did everything go alright?”

“We got him and his buddy.” Jake confirms, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “They tried to give us the slip, but I chased after them.”

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Jake quickly corrects himself, “Okay, Rosa chased after them, but that doesn’t matter.”  

You laugh, and Jake snorts with you before continuing, “There’ll be a trial, obviously. I’ll give you more updates when I hear them.”

You nod, before sliding Jake’s stuff back to him. You don’t even bother ringing his purchase up as you tell him, “It’s on the house.” 

“What? No.” Jake hurriedly searches through his pockets for some change. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do.” you insist. Jake offers you some cash, but you shake your head. “Seriously, Jake, thank you, for everything.” 

You reach out, closing Jake’s hand, and your gaze lingers on one another as your hand remains on his. He smiles, and Jake feels like his heart might beat out of his chest as you smile back at him. Before he can stop himself, he blurts, “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime?”

You blink at him in surprise, and Jake winces as he worries he might’ve blown it. Stammering, he continues, “It’s, uh, my way of saying thank you. For helping us solve the case. And for the snacks.” 

Jake watches as a smile spreads across your face, and you chew on your lip as if trying to contain your happiness. “Is this a date?”

Jake grins at you. “It can be.” 

“Just tell me when and where.” you nod excitedly, and Jake beams at you. “I’d love to go out with you, Jake.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jake claps his hands together. He scoops up his snacks, backing away as he continues, “Hey, I’ve got to run back to the precinct, but I’ll text you, okay?”

“Got it.” you nod, grinning from ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch Jake clumsily try to open the door, but he stops himself. 

“Oh! By the way,” Jake spins around on his heel. “Do you guys sell batteries?” 

“Um,” you glance over your shoulder at the inventory behind you. “We’ve got some. What kind do you need?”

“It’s for a clock.” Jake sighs, and you raise an eyebrow at his reaction. “It’s… a long story.”

tag list: @myfriendmagislit / @thedamagedcne / @real-fbi / @writinqss / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @dontjudgemepeepswrites / @hauntedpocdreamer / @locke-writes / @lgbtonystarks / @fangirlsarah16 / @kittensanddarkclouds / @randomfandomimagine / @ofthedewthesunlight / @bravelittlesunflower / @gothicwidowsworld​ / @halfofwhatisayismeaningless / @amirahiddleston / @interwebseriesfan24​

[tetsvya]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  atsumu does whatever he can to keep himself from facing the truth.

➼ pairing! timeskip!atsumu miya x reader

➼ word count! 654

➼ warnings! breakups, atsumu not properly dealing with his emotions, drinking

➼ type! angst

➼ author’s note! i’m not too sure how i feel about this but i wanted to post something. this is heavily inspired by the song “hair too long” by the vamps

Atsumu’s tired. He's tired of staying up late, wondering if you're thinking about him too. He's tired of wondering if you lie in bed at night and yearn to peer into his eyes like he does with you. He's just so tired, because in all honestly, he can't picture you doing any of those things.

Not when he sees your posts on social media, and you're still living your life as you did before, like you hadn't just broken up with him a mere four weeks ago.

And he knows it's his fault. He has no one to blame but himself, and it makes him want to scream and shout but he can't. He won't. He refuses to give you the pleasure of him doing so when you seem as if you couldn't care less.

So to spite you, he lets his hair grow out too long, longer than he normally would, because he knows just how much you liked his short strands, and he goes around, singing all your least favorite songs at the top of his lungs, because he can.

And worst of all, he goes out and kisses all your friends.

But he knows they're not really your friends. No, they couldn't possibly be when they were so easily willing to let Atsumu press his lips to theirs. And it makes his stomach churn, because he can't help but think that you deserve better. No, he knows you deserve better, in every possible way imaginable. But he pushes those feelings away and does it anyway, hoping one day, one of them will post it somewhere and you'll see it and maybe then you'll show that you're hurting just as much as he is.

And if one of them is actually daunting enough to ask about you, he tells everyone that it was him who ended it. That he's the one who called it quits, because he can't stand to bear the truth. He doesn't want to face his own insecurities and doubts. And he especially doesn't want to own up the mistakes he knows he never should have made. Or rather, he can’t. So he opts to make up a story and pretend that it was him who made it end.

And if he's being honest, it really is his fault that everything came to an end, just not in the way he likes to pretend it was.

And it may seem cruel. No, it is cruel, and he knows it. And he really doesn't want to be this cold, but it's the only thing that seems to work. Because the love still hurts and this is the only way he can get that constant ache he feels in his heart to stop.

But it doesn't last. It never does. Because by the time the night is dwindling to an end, and he's had far too much to drink, he always finds himself stumbling around the bar you two used to often frequent, your name on his lips and fingers aching to touch you. And he's asking people who have never even met you if they've seen you around until the bartender is calling Osamu and asking him to pick up his mess of a brother once again. And Osamu, like always, comes to get him, and Atsumu, like always, remains silent when he receives an earful from his worried brother.

Because he knows it's not healthy. He already knows that. But he doesn't know how to live with what he's done. How can he ever hold onto the hope that maybe one day you could forgive him and grant him another chance when he continues to do things that hurt you?

Stop doing things that hurt you, for starters, his brain tells him for what he thinks is probably the umpteenth time.

So when he finds himself back in his bed, clutching the pillow you left behind to his chest, his red rimmed eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, he figures it's time to listen to what his head is telling him and cut his hair.

[fenristheorem]

Hi! First of all, I just wanted to say that I fell in love with your writing and the way you analyze the characters. Now, there is something that has been on my mind for some time, since I found out that Huang Hua can feel other people's feelings, I just imagine that she found out how Lance started to develop feelings for the Guardian. The secret looks he gives her, the restlessness he feels when she enters.

Hello! Thank you so much for the compliment! ❤

The request wasn’t exactly formatted in the way of the typical ask, so I wasn’t exactly sure if you were requesting this as a hc / scenario or just commenting for a discussion, but since my page is primarily writing requests I can only assume it’s a request lol.

I’m not entirely sure what Huang Hua’s special power exactly is to be honest. Some people say it’s the ability to read souls, or sort of read minds, or emotions, things along those lines. I have a general idea that she can read someone’s inner heart, energy/aura, and true intentions, which sort of combines many of those ideas as well as your ideas in the request, so I’ll be writing with that in mind. I hope you don’t mind! It won’t really have much of a difference on how I write this as the general idea (how it’s used) is the same.

~ Under the cut ~

Huang Hua’s observations as Lance falls in love with Guardienne:

Huang Hua, of course, observed Lance during his years of change at the guard. He certainly did become someone different; wiser, more resilient, more composed. She knew him once before his years of being Ashkore, but if asked, she would say that she would like this new Lance better. His actions have humbled him and made him wiser, and he has a more realistic perspective on life now. She’s not pleased with what he’s done in the past, but she realizes that sometimes someone can be their own worst enemy, and if they rise above that and don’t give in to living their life in self-pity, they can become even greater than they once were and provide greater things than they once could have. It seems like this was one of those cases, so instead of holding his past against him, Huang Hua lets him thrive in his new era and provide what he can for the guard.

However, there was one thing that always bothered Huang Hua about Lance: it was nothing but work with him.

Even prior to being Ashkore, Lance spent very little time to himself. He would take care of himself, of course, but aside from the occasional friends or acquaintances, or the occasional one night stands (I don’t think it’s confirmed that Lance had a lot of one night stands, but looking at Valk’s history we can say it’s probably true), he didn’t really spend much time to himself.

This still holds true in this new era, but Huang Hua understands his reasoning better. Even so, everyone needs a bit of a break sometimes; a time to wind down and de-stress. She’s mentioned this once or twice to him when he seems to be carrying the weight of the guard on his back, and he says he’ll keep it in mind... but never really does anything different.

This changes when Guardienne emerges from the crystal.

Immediately, Huang Hua picks up that Lance is high strung and stressed - although he hides it very well (after all, a soldier shouldn’t be easily visibly stressed out right?) - at her presence... but there’s something else, too. Something... deeper. Admiration? Respect? ... Fear?

And even deeper than that seems to be some other sort of distress... Longing?

This genuinely shocks Huang Hua.

Lance, the destroyer of Eldarya, is scared of Guardienne? Sure she saved the world and put up a good fight, but physically she’s completely out of shape now! A great warrior like him has nothing to fear now!

Except, she’s aware that Lance knows the art of warfare much better than her, and he knows personal things about himself that she doesn’t know, even despite her abilities, so perhaps there’s something she’s overlooking or can’t see.

As leader of the guard - with the ability to learn about some of the most private areas of someone’s life by simply wishing to know - she’s basically promised herself to not use her ability unless necessary.

But Lance being terrified of Guardienne is a valid call for her to use this ability to monitor him, right?

Huang Hua has roughly mastered the art of balancing work and her personal life, so she carries on day to day life with little issues relating to this. She knows how to not let this effect the guard, and knows how to hide it so well that nobody would know that anything is going on, so she allows herself to indulge in the sudden mystery that is Lance and his emotions.

And then she realizes just how deeply Lance feels emotions, and just how influential they can be, and it nearly takes her breath away.

All of the emotions flooding through him at once; the regret, shame, sorrow, anger, and even fear, all have a special place in him. They’re always so consistent, and so overwhelming. For a while, Huang Hua wonders if it’s these emotions that drive him in general.

Yes, this is not the first time she's looked into his inner being to know him better - after all, looking into him is how she knew it was safe to release him back into the guard to train new recruits - but this is the first time since then that she's bothered to truly observe him again, and she's shocked by what is revealed. Huang Hua did not know that Lance still carried the burden of his past actions so heavily upon his heart.

But every once in a while, when Lance and Guardienne aren’t feuding with each other, Huang Hua sees the dark cloud of those horrific emotions clear away, and something... wonderful happens.

Lance holds a tender spot in his heart for Guardienne.

Beyond all of that fear, and anger, and sorrow for everything that’s happened to him and because of him - including what Guardienne went through - is a soft spot for the woman he hurt most.

Huang Hua nearly gets whiplash from the sudden realization.

And then she gets curious, perhaps more curious than she should have been.

How long has that been going on for? Did he feel this way before the final war? Is this another reason why he kidnapped her and ran to Memoria? ... Would he have even have been able to feel this way back then?

Huang Hua has never been more interested in someone else’s relationship drama.

She takes to observing his actions over time, trying to decipher what he does for what reasons, and then finds that when he’s not doing things out of responsibility, he tries to make things a bit easier for Guardienne. He keeps his distance, sure, but if there’s anything subtle that he can do behind the scenes to help her, he typically does so.

On occasion - when Guardienne isn’t paying attention to him - he’ll observe her as Huang Hua observes him. She can’t read his thoughts, but she can at least guess what’s going through his mind by the emotions that flood through him, and a common emotion she’s picked up on is cautious hope. 

Hope for what? That Guardienne will manage to fix a future mistake he fears making on accident? That she’ll someday forgive him, or move past looking at him and always seeing his past actions? That perhaps someday they can actually be close with each other?

As much as Huang Hua understands why Guardienne is so persistent on being cautious about Lance, she can’t help but hope that one day soon she may relax around him and trust him, perhaps even grow closer than just co-workers or friends.

After all, the savior of Eldarya and destroyer of Eldarya in love? That’s a story of impossible odds, tragic stories, and bending the world’s rules that people write legends and stories about! But it’s also a symbol of hope and faith; that if Eldarya’s savior can one day look past the actions of Eldarya’s destroyer and fall in love with him, then who’s to say that anything is in vain? Who’s to say that moving forward alongside one’s past enemy - despite their past wars - is a fate hopeless and filled with inevitable hurt? Their story could be passed down through legends, and teach important stories to future generations. Among that, she would be a good influence on him! She knows how to relax and spend time with friends, and knows how to stand up and fight and hope for the best even in the darkest times. If the sky were to fall in their future, and their loyalty lie with each other, Guardienne’s hope and faith could be the sole driving force for Lance to perform wonderful miracles. He has the strength, stubbornness, and resources to do so, he just needs the faith.

And then Huang Hua realizes he does have hope and faith... but it’s invested in her.

Guardienne - just like for everyone else - is a representation of hope, but in different ways for Lance than with everyone else. He’s aware of the possibility that she may never be able to see past his former actions but he still works hard regardless, and not to impress her or make anything up, but because he knows that that’s what she would want from him, even if she has her doubts about him.

The Phoenix begins to see a side of the Dragon that she’s never seen before, and she doesn’t know if she approves or disapproves.

Lance begins to work even harder in Guardienne’s presence, and this concerns Huang Hua for a while. He works himself hard enough, how is it possible that he can still give more? Doesn’t he ever get stressed? Will this somehow kill him from overworking? And yet, as she continues to observe him, he still manages himself just fine, and now he’s even more driven to protect Eldarya. 

These observations carry on for a long time, and as time continues on, Lance manages to sort out his emotions a bit more, identifying exactly how he feels about Guardienne and learning exactly what pleases her. He does his best to provide what he can for Guardienne, in all aspects of life. However, Huang Hua notices that Lance continues to keep a distance from the Aengel.

This makes her wonder; why is he being so cautious with her? Surely they’ve calmed down to each other by now?

But a small look at how Guardienne is feeling makes her realize why Lance is still keeping away from her; she’s still scared of him, and Lance can sense this.

The Phoenix gains a deeper sense of respect for Lance.

He loves Guardienne, and craves to be closer to her, but notices subtle gestures that she may not even know she does that tell him she still can’t fully accept being around him. Despite his want to be closer, he respects her need for space, and Huang Hua has a feeling that he would keep doing that for the rest of his life if that’s what Guardienne needed. However, even while knowing that she can’t stand to be around him, he still works hard with her in mind.

His loyalty to a woman who can barely stand him nearly makes Huang Hua swoon. This is not a common thing with people, others rarely have this deep of a sense of loyalty to one person - especially someone they hurt who keeps pushing them away; they usually just split up in time - but Lance is firm in his loyalty and persistence for Guardienne.

And then Huang Hua starts to catch him displaying subtle physical signs of his interest. Perhaps he’s decided it’s time to push the boundary? Was he really willing to take the risk of upsetting her?

His eyes will linger on her, no matter where they are, only looking away when he feels as though he’s at risk of being caught. He’ll try and stay physically close to Guardienne when he can, standing close to her side, and on occasion when he leads her somewhere he’ll touch her gently, even if for a moment. He’ll place his hand on her back or shoulder for a few heartbeats, guiding her in the direction they need to head in, and he’ll take her arm softly when he pulls her aside from somewhere to talk to her. Guardienne’s reaction really depends on her mood. If she’s irritated or is feeling threatened, Huang Hua observed, she’ll pull away from him, possibly even snapping back with a blatant statement of “don’t touch me!”. Lance remains calm and collected, but Huang Hua is aware of the jolt of pain that thunders through him when she rejects him, as that same jolt ripples through her as she observes his emotions. However, he never holds it against her, and almost seems to be expecting this sometimes.

On the other hand, every once in a while when Guardienne is having a good moment where she seems to be more trusting of Lance, she’ll allow him to touch her for longer, and Huang Hua could swear she could pick up some sort of... longing, or perhaps disappointment, from her when he pulls away.

And during these times, there’s something that happens between them when they touch. A tension seems to crackle in the air, so thick that Huang Hua is sure that they can see it, and is shocked that no one else can see it. But how could they? No one else has her powers.

This tension is what sparks Huang Hua to become truly invested in their possible relationship. Most of the time Lance and Guardienne don’t seem to know what to make of their relationship, but Huang Hua knows there’s something there that can’t be ignored. Sometimes she finds herself thinking to Guardienne “Oh, kiss him you fool!” when Lance is being particularly tender with her, laying all his tragic emotions bare in front of her as they talk about a harsh topic for him, or when he tells her that he’s glad she talks about important things with him every once in a while, even if it is hard for him. Guardienne didn’t seem to realize that this wasn’t a common thing with Lance; he wouldn’t lie about his emotions, but he was very evasive with talking about his past. To get him to talk openly about his past and have him openly admit his regrets was a rare sight - not because he didn’t like to admit his regrets, but because he felt it wasn’t relevant anymore. It was seven years ago, and he had clearly changed since. He regretted his actions, he wished it never turned out this way, he tries to keep it from repeating in the future; what more needed to be said about the subject?

In this time, Huang Hua begins to realize just how deep his emotions for her run.

Lance had a respect for Guardienne, for every part of her, even when she screwed up a bit or caused a bit of chaos, even if he was angry with her. He admired her stubbornness and diligence at defending the guard and Eldarya, and her optimism even in the darkest hours always had a tendency to shake him to his core and snap some sense back into him. Huang Hua began to notice that his emotions on him pursuing her reflected her emotions during dark hours of their story; it wasn’t over until it was over, and as long as there was a possibility that something could change for the better, that possibility should be sought after.

The Phoenix begins to understand why Miiko once had such intense feelings for the Ice Dragon. Even though so many things have happened to him and because of him, he refuses to be held back or muted. He still allows himself to be who he is at heart, and doesn’t care if others like his personality or not. He had confidence in himself, even after the terrible things he’s done. Lance knew very well the extent of his abilities, and was aware that the most important thing about those abilities were how they were used. He had committed atrocities, sure, but he was confident in himself now because he knows he’s not using his strengths for wrong anymore. He has chosen to fight for good, he can see clearly now, and his loyalties lie with the guard, and, overall, with Guardienne.

However, Huang Hua picks up another emotion as she observes Lance over time, and she’s unsure of if it comes from him, or from herself because of what's beginning to be revealed to her about him.

Some sort of hollow loneliness pierces her chest every once in a while as she watches him. He doesn’t have close friends, he doesn’t pursue any other women, and he doesn’t allow himself much time to relax. Lance is a ghost that drifts around the guard, searching for some true place not within the responsibilities, but within the people he protects.

His past makes him hard to relate to, his perception vastly differs from most faeries, and his emotions are a deep well of running water, constantly shifting and redesigning who he is in any given moment, and yet he strives to find his own place within the guard, not as the Leader of Obsidian, but as Lance; the Ice Dragon, the man, the deep ocean of emotions and history who may very well never find a home among a people he can truly call his. Still he remains the same person inside, but always he is adjusting for the outside world, and he had yet to find someone who would risk unraveling his constant adapting to truly know the man underneath.

But everyday he rises to that challenge, brushing off the echoing thought that perhaps he doesn’t belong among these people - that perhaps he may never find peace here at the guard - because he knows he’s best fit for this responsibility. He can protect these faeries better than anyone else could, and his morals lie first with that, and second with his own fantasies.

Even so, Huang Hua doesn’t miss the hollow echo in Lance’s soul as he watches the guard celebrate, or witnesses close friends embrace each other and confide in each other, and she realizes that Lance doesn’t truly feel at peace here, not at all - not among the people who he’s betrayed and become an outcast from. He feels no peace at all among these people, they are not his people... but perhaps, when he looks at her - Guardienne - within her hope he finds peace, and someday, perhaps, he may find peace, a home, within her arms. 

Was it possible that, even as Ashkore, he felt he felt he could find solace within her? Some opening within the dark clouds that overshadowed his existence for him to strive towards?

Did Lance believe that Guardienne made him a better man, even more so than he already is?

By mere chance Huang Hua managed to piece together everything she knew of Lance and his relationship to Guardienne, and she came to realize that there was something between them for a long time. It was deep, and complicated, and was never able to be pursued until now. The Dragon’s emotions for Guardienne ran deeper than any of Eldarya’s oceans, farther than the furthest mapped points, and was purer than even the Aengel’s powers. 

Lance was truly in love with her. Not her powers, not her history, he fell in love with a woman who moved something within him that no one has ever touched before.

The Phoenix almost begins to feel guilty over time.

There was something there for a long time. Did Guardienne know this? Did she need a wake up call in order to realize what was happening before her? Was Huang Hua supposed to intervene and help get their relationship going?

If only she knew...

I shouldn’t interfere with this, Lance would feel violated and Guardienne wouldn’t trust me ever again...

But isn’t it a shame to let them possibly waste their life away not telling each other how they feel, or giving this a chance?

Stress eventually invades Huang Hua throughout her days, even when she's not around Lance and Guardienne. The Dragon and the Aengel, in time, grow ever closer, ever more comfortable with each other, and may even be expressing signs of interest for each other! But no one is doing anything about it!

But no one can see the deep roots of their feelings like Huang Hua can, and she's nearly certain that Lance and Guardienne will continue to tip toe around each other in a fearful dance of figuring out where they fit into each other's lives, never daring to test deeper waters in fear of hurting the other and sparking off another bout of painful emotions that may haunt them, and the guard, for years.

It's very possible that their relationship could change the guard and Eldarya - positively - forever, so doesn't this give Huang Hua some right to try and push them together? But romantic relationships are so personal, especially ones as special as this. A unique relationship like theirs shouldn't be interfered with, it will bloom in time if given the right opportunity... but what if Huang Hua can create the right opportunity!? But that's still interfering in their relationship!

Without even knowing, the emotional toll of observing and pondering over Lance and Guardienne's relationship does begin to take effect on her, and Huang Hua's own partner, Ewelein, is the first to notice and call it out.

The leader of the guard then needed to decide if she was willing to indulge her partner, someone completely unrelated to the matter, in her almost stalker-like tendencies of observing the simmering relationship between the guard's resident Dragon and Aengel.

Eventually she breaks and admits to the Elf that she's been observing the inner worlds of Lance and Guardienne as of late, and has realized just how much of a mistake and a blessing it's been.

The first thing Ewelein jumps to is the fact that it's an invasion of privacy, something that - of everyone in the guard - the leader especially should not be partaking in. Huang Hua doesn't really fight back on that idea; she knows it was inappropriate, she should have just approached Lance and asked if he was alright.

"But of course he would say that he's alright! Maybe a bit unsettled, but come on, at the end of the day nothing shakes him for long, and to him that translates to he's alright!"

Eventually its clear to Ewelein that regardless of how Huang Hua came to be in this position, she's trapped in it now, and feels very passionately about the possible romance brewing within the guard, to the point where it truly is stressing her in possibly unhealthy ways.

Ewelein does her best to comfort Huang Hua as she spills everything that's been revealed to her, starting from the beginning of when Lance and Guardienne were still fearful of each other, to the most current moments of when they've been relying on each other, talking civilly, and even possibly shyly flirting. The Elf is quiet and attentive all throughout, knowing that - even as she's surprised in many ways as well by the things time has revealed about Lance and Guardienne - her shock and emotions couldn't begin to rival what Huang Hua has been feeling for the past endless days that she's been observing them.

“I can’t believe it! This is love that stories are written about, that changes worlds and changes people. And he’s hiding it so easily!”

"But would it be right of you to intervene? This is their story, not yours."

"I know, but couldn't this be good for the guard, too? And possibly even Eldarya? And as the leader of the guard, shouldn't I try and do what I think could benefit us?"

"You first started observing Lance under the excuse that it was for professional reasons, to make sure that he was alright to remain in power and carry out his responsibilities despite her presence, but we both know you did it for selfish reasons, too. You were curious as to why Lance felt what he did about her, and now you have your answer. However, you kept observing them after that, even going as far as reading into Guardienne's responses to Lance. Is that professional at all? And instead of invading her privacy, don't you think she would have told you the truth of her fearful emotions for Lance if you asked her heart to heart?"

Huang Hua lowered her head and avoided her gaze.

"You've gotten your professional answers and now you've seen into a very private portion of two people's lives. None of this is professional anymore, so you can't act professionally on it. You need to treat this as what it is; intimate, personal, and something that should be respected, not exploited. I know it would make sense to try and get this to help the guard, but really, there is no guarantee of that. What if they got together and then broke up a while after? What would the message be then, especially if it were known that you set them up together? My advice is to stay back and let this develop in time. Sometimes when I'm with a patient there is nothing I can do for them, sometimes leaving the body alone to heal itself is the best thing to do. I think this is a case where that rule should be applied. The best thing you can do is let them figure out their relationship in time. You can support them, but do not influence them."

Huang Hua knows Ewelein is right, and forever appreciates her partner listening to her thoughts. If Lance and Guardienne's relationship were to be true, they needed to figure out what they meant to each other in their own time.

So Huang Hua follows the Elf's advice. She bites her tongue and hides the fact that she’s witnessed almost every moment of him falling in love with Guardienne, vigilantly awaiting the day where Lance decided to emerge from the dark and shake the guard’s history for a second time.

Goodness this took a while to write, but I'm very pleased with the results! I think I got a good idea of Huang Hua's reaction and how her reaction developed in time in response to Lance and Guardienne growing closer, especially since I don't think her reaction would begin and end within one day of realizing what was going on.

Thanks for asking!

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Sex Tape

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader

Request: “ If you take requests, would you consider doing johnny reaction to like theirs sex tape getting leaked? Reader may also be a celebrity or not. Whatever you prefer “ - @fanficshitandother 

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no actual smut

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Sorry this one is so short. I was having a harder time writing it than I thought I would. I hope you enjoy!

__________________________________

Shit. 

You knew this was a bad idea when he suggested it but no. He just had to have this video “for when he was away filming.” It always ended like this, though, right? It always started out as fun and games until bam! Celebrity sex tape leaked! 

The gossip talk show video that your best friend had sent you was still playing on your phone and you watched in silent horror as the red haired woman talked about your sex life to her male counterpart as if she had any actual right to have an opinion. In the top corner was a picture of you and Johnny at the red carpet for the premier of the Crimes of Grindelwald, his arm around your waist and both of you smiling for the paparazzi pictures. “Okay, guys. You are going to want to hear this,” She started, clasping her absurdly long acrylic-clad fingers together and holding onto her knees, “So there has been yet another sex tape leaked and I want you to guess who’s it is.” She looked over to her co-host. He had a push broom mustache that was bleached blonde to match his hair. 

The man hummed before waving his hand, which also donned long yellow acrylics, “I swear, Laurel, if this is another Kardashian or Paris Hilton tape, I’m gonna scream. That’s such old news.” 

“Actually, it’s someone that I certainly didn’t expect. Johnny Depp and his wife, Y/N L/N.” She dropped the news and the co-star’s mouth dropped. 

“Are you serious? Like Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp?” He asked in total shock, “I didn’t expect that either! But you know what? I feel like he’d be really good in bed.” 

He and Laurel both laughed, “You’re so bad!” She squealed, hitting him with the paper notes in her hand, “But, between you and me,” She leaned in, as if she was telling an actual secret that wasn’t being broadcast on the internet, “I did see it.” 

“And?” 

“It was pretty hot, I can’t lie. That Y/N is a very lucky girl indeed.” The pair giggled like a pair of school girls. 

You were absolutely mortified. How did this happen? How many people had seen it? Who had seen it? Oh God… all you could imagine was your family stumbling across the video or, debatably worse, Johnny’s kids. This had to be one of the worst moments of your life. 

You turned off the video and quickly dialed your husband. “Hello, love.” He greeted cheerily on the other end. The faint sound of cars passing in the background told you he was probably driving home from the meeting he had been at. 

“Did you see it? Did you hear it?” You asked frantically. 

“What?” He asked, confused.

“The video! The video got leaked!” You ran your fingers through your hair messily, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. 

“What video?” He questioned, not sounding like he fully understood what had happened, but then you could almost feel the weight of realization falling on him, “Wait, our video?” 

“Yes! Our video!” You were yelling at this point, not at him but at the situation and thankfully he understood that. 

“Okay, okay. We’ll- Hang on my manager is calling. Probably to tell me about it. I’ll be home in five minutes. I love you.” He signed off your call quickly before hanging up without giving you the chance to respond. 

While you waited for him to get there, you spiraled down the rabbit hole that was the tabloids and social media. Your phone buzzed off the charts as everyone from your sister to Helena Bonham Carter called you to ask if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t. But it was one phone call from a former college roommate, Sheila, had really gotten your blood boiling. 

“It’s okay! If anything, this is just going to make you more famous! Look at all the other celebs who’ve had their sex tapes leaked. They’re like, super famous.” Sheila sounded more excited than she should have, which certainly made you question her motives behind calling you in the first place. Since marrying Johnny, you’d had the unfortunate displeasure of having to cut a few people off from your past who had randomly called you up after years of little to no contact, asking more favors in the movie industry, money, or even just for the clout of saying they knew you. There really was such a downside to this whole marrying famous person thing that nobody ever really talked about - not that you would take it back, though, of course. You loved Johnny more than anything. 

Still, when the words left her mouth, you felt a flash of anger swell up, “Contrary to what a lot of people might believe, being famous actually kind of sucks,” You spat angrily, “And call me crazy, but I don’t exactly feel thrilled at knowing the whole world as access to a video of my naked ass!” 

“At least it’s a good naked ass, though! Your boobs are looking pretty good too. Did you get them done?” She asked bluntly, still not a care to be heard in her voice. You swore you could almost detect a fake valley girl accent too. 

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief at the words coming from her voice, “I can’t believe you.” Without giving her a chance to respond, you clicked the off button before flipping her off through the screen, though you knew she couldn’t see it. The audacity of some people. 

The front door swung open, drawing your attention as Johnny hurried into the house, setting his bag down by the front door. “How bad is it?” You asked, knowing his manager must have told him the full extent. 

“Do you want the truth?” Johnny saw as panic and humiliation swept across your face, knowing that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to break it to you that it was pretty bad. He stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms, “I told Harrison to take ‘em down. Whenever he found one, he said he’d get it deleted. 

You sighed defeatedly, “That doesn’t stop the fact that a bunch of people already saw it.” Your arms wrapped around Johnny’s torso and you allowed your head to fall against his chest, trying to calm yourself with his scent- exotic spicy cologne and old books. 

His large hand came to stroke through your hair, “That is true,” He conceded with a heavy breath, “But, it also means that fewer and fewer people will continue to see it.” There was a pause in which neither of you said anything, only took a few minutes to hold onto each other while you thought about the future now, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel like this is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have asked to make the video. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You shook your head in disagreement, “I agreed to do it too. It’s on both of us. In retrospect, we should have put it on an actual VHS tape or something that would be more difficult to get into the tabloid’s hands.” 

You were tired of this - of this constant running from the vultures that prayed off your every misstep just to turn them against you and create headlining stories. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a scandal unless the media allowed it. You were just grateful that you happened to marry one of the most private actors in Hollywood, knowing that whatever pressure you felt, more public figures like Angelina Jolie had it much worse. Still, something inside you stirred, a decision that you’d stop living in fear. 

Johnny pulled back and gave you that infamous cocked eyebrow look of wonder, one that you’d mostly seen him use as Jack Sparrow. Little did everyone know, it was a gesture he’d picked up on doing in real life as well. “Do we even have a VHS player anymore?” 

You chuckled and buried your head back into his white shirt, “I don’t even know. I feel like there must be one laying around somewhere. And if not, I’ll go down to a pawn shop and pick one up just for you to use while filming.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” You leaned back, pulling on his shirt to bring him down closer to your level, “That if we’re going to be making you another one of these videos, it’s gonna be on something that stays only between us.” 

Your husband nearly choked on air, “Another one? After what just happened?” 

“Only if you want to and only if it stays on something physical like a CD or VHS that we can mutually agree to burn and destroy if anything happens.” You giggled and Johnny joined in with a low chuckle as well, “But… the video was leaked. We knew that was a risk when we made it. But, y’know what? I’m tired of living in fear of the paparazzi and public. They’ve already seen us fuck. There’s not much else we’ve got to lose.” 

His dark eyes flashed with mischief before he took off in a light jog down the hall without a word. You followed him, “Where are you going?” You giggled, turning the corner to find him digging through your little Harry Potter closet under the stairs. 

When he stood up, he shook his long hair out of his eyes messily and held up an old tape recorder that had to be at least twenty years old. Johnny swayed towards you, jokingly flirtatious as he spoke, “Well, Mrs. Depp, it would seem that you’re in luck because your husband likes to hoard old shit.” 

The grey and black machine seemed to stare at you and some hesitation set in again but then you remembered what you’d said: I’m tired of living in fear… there’s not much else we’ve got to lose. 

Johnny flicked open the side compartment and his eyes opened in surprise to find a tape still in there. He lifted it from the slide and looked it over, shocked to see that it appeared to be an unused blank tape, “Well, well, looks like we’re in luck.” 

Biting your lip, you looked up at him with those eyes before grabbing his hand and running upstairs to your bedroom, dragging him along. “The world thinks they’ve seen us fuck. They only got a preview.” 

“Only a preview? I thought we went pretty hard last time?” He countered with a low challenging laugh.

You turned around at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister as you turned to face him. His body collided with yours, his hand reaching around the small of your back to steady the two of you and you arched your body into his, being sure to brush your body against his groin, “Oh, Johnny… we’re both throwing our backs out tonight.” 

[bunnysuit-femboy]

The Worst Wingman - Dust and a Goddess

(Chapter 1 / 3)

Jean x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: mentions of homophobia

Summary:  Jean knew you better than anybody else, so why was he so good at picking the worst people on the planet for you to go on dates with. You were persistent to find a boyfriend this year and you thought Jean could help you find the perfect man, but apparently he loves to watch you suffer. If only you knew the perfect man for you was the one setting you up on all of these dates.

Notes: I posted this on my Ao3 first, but I thought I’d post it here too. So, please enjoy!

First Saturday

Another Saturday night meant another shitty date with another uninteresting and weird guy. You knew Jean hand-picked these dates that he sent you off with, but it seemed he didn’t know you or them at all. Every single date was just another bust, undeniably and irrefutably.

And, this date was just another on the already long list of bad dates.

“So,” Your date said with a smile, “You’re good friends with him, aren’t you?”

You nodded with the wine glass close to your lips. He had asked you the same question nearly fifteen times in the last fifteen minutes. It was as if he couldn’t believe it himself. As if he were surprised, or maybe even a little bit jealous.

“Yeah,” You said with a fake smile, “We’re in the same friend group. I met him freshman year, when I became close friends with Mikasa and she introduced us-”

“How is he?”

“Huh?”

The redhead smiled wide, “How is Eren? What’s he like as a friend?”

You raised your eyebrows and placed your glass back on the table, “Eren?”

The redhead nodded excitedly. He was nearly on the edge of his seat, leaning towards you like a child about to hear a war story from his grandfather. It was odd that the boy had gotten caught on the idea of Eren being friends with you when you had just explained how Jean was the one who set you up on the date.

“Eren is- um,” You looked around the small restaurant, trying to find inspiration for a way out of this conversation from the other diners, “He’s cool.”

The boy is physically upset about your discretion, “And?”

“And,” You involuntarily continued, “He’s- uh, he’s very nice. He-uh he helps me with my homework, and helps me study quite a bit.”

It was all a lie, but only partially. Sure, somebody in the friend group was really nice and helped you with homework and helped you study, but it wasn’t Eren. It was Armin who was the nice one, but you didn’t know Eren well enough not to switch the two names when talking with the boy in front of you.

“That’s awesome,” The redhead said with an admirational sigh, “I bet he’s super helpful. He’s definitely the type to not give up until you know everything, for sure.”

“Oh.” You grinned at your empty dinner plate. “For sure. He’s the best. He’s super dedicated, and he always makes the harder information easier for me to understand. He’ll word it in ways that he knows I’m more comfortable with.”

“I’ll have to join you two, sometime.”

You looked at the boy with furrowed eyebrows, “You want to join me and Eren while we study?”

Boy, is he going to be upset when he finds out Eren is actually an adorable blonde boy with big ocean eyes who’s not nearly as blatantly mean. Also, it’s a bit strange the redhead wants to go on a study date with you and somebody else. Isn’t he at this date for you? But, all he’s asked you about all night is Eren.

“Of course,” The boy said with a smile, “I would just love to see him again.”

You giggled lightly to yourself, “Do you want me to get his number for you?”

Though the comment was purely a joke, the boy didn’t flinch nor smile. He just stared at you with a look of defeat in his eyes and he almost looked angry. His eyes never left your face, his mind not finding an ounce of humor in your question.

His reaction caused your smile to quickly falter, “Do you actually have a crush on him?”

The redhead rose from his seat, “I have to use the bathroom.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Right now?”

“Yes,” The boy’s voice came out harsh, “Right now.”

“Oh, okay.” You watched as the boy walked off towards the bathroom. And, once he was out of earshot, you pulled your phone from your purse sitting on the back of the chair and phoned Jean.

The phone only rang once before the call was picked up. He spoke a half-assed greeting above the sound of yelling in the background. You knew he was with Connie and Sasha tonight and you knew they were playing video games from the noise coming from behind his voice.

“Don’t hey me,” You spat angrily through the phone, “This guy is insane, Jean, he’s fucking weird.”

Jean was now laughing, “How is he weird?”

“He keeps asking about Eren.” You took a quick peek at the male’s bathroom door. “He offered to go on a study date with me-”

“That’s nice of him.”

“-And Eren.”

“Oh,” Jean said, “That’s weird. Eren doesn’t even study with you, he’d have to be smarter than you to be of any help.”

“I may have lied to him.” You took a quick swig of wine from the glass and then turned back to the bathroom doors.

“Aw,” Jean said with a smirk, “Poor Floch.”

“Floch,” You said excitedly, nearly knocking the discarded fork from your plate, “That’s his name! I forgot it about two hours ago, but didn’t have the heart to ask him.”

Jean was uncontrollably laughing on the other side of the phone. It wasn’t like these types of calls were foriegn to him. You normally called Jean in the middle of a crisis, and most of your crises these days happened mid-date when the boy did something weird and left to go to the bathroom.

“You’re a horrible date,” Jean said between his giggles.

“It’s not a normal name.” You held the wine glass to your lips. “I wouldn’t have forgotten his name if it were Brian or Nick. It’s his mom’s fault I forgot his name.”

Jean smiled into the phone, “Now, you’re blaming his mom for your ignorance, how cruel.”

You couldn’t help but grin as well, “Also, I think he has a thing for Eren.”

“Really?” Jean takes a moment to remember something. “That actually makes a lot of sense. I met him through Eren because they were in the same chemistry class last semester. He seemed reluctant to go on the date with you until Eren told him he should, then he was all for it. I thought it was weird, but not weird enough to be concerning.”

“It’s not weird nor concerning,” You said sweetly, “He just has a crush and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, it’s endearing.”

“He’s actively homophobic.”

“What?” You peek at the bathrooms and notice nothing has changed. “You set me on a date with an active homophobe?”

Jean shrugged, “I didn’t think about it.”

You shook your head angrily, “After this date, I am coming straight to your apartment and I am giving you a piece of my mind, Jean Kirstein.”

“Oh no,” Jean said with a smile, “I’m really scared, she used my last name.”

“You should be really scared. I’m bringing my baseball bat and everything.”

You took another peek at the bathroom and then checked the timer on the call. Seven minutes and fourteen seconds was how long you had been on the phone with Jean and how long Floch had been in the bathroom. Sure, it could be reasonable, but you still got a weird feeling from the whole thing.

“‘You okay?” Jean asked endearingly once the silence between you two had settled.

“He’s coming back,” You lied, “I gotta’ go.”

“Okay, just-”

The call ended quickly with one press of your finger. You put your phone back in your purse and let the bag fall to the side of the chair. You looked around the beautiful restaurant and tapped your fingers impatiently against the clothed table.

You leaned to your side in order to get closer to the couple beside you. At the table sat two people: one with long brown hair and wide glasses dressed in a tux and the other with short dirty blonde hair also dressed in a tux.

“Hi,” You said to the brown haired person to your immediate right, “Could I ask a favor of either of you? It’ll only take a minute, I swear.”

The brown haired person smiled widely, “Of course!”

“My date, a redhead, went to the bathroom nearly twenty minutes ago, and I can’t go into the boy’s bathroom-”

“You want me to go?” The brown haired person’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I can go see if he’s still in there, or if he’s sick, or if he’s dead - God forbid, but how interesting, right?”

You nodded with a smile, “Yes, thank you, please. I’m sure he’s not dead, but I’m just worried.”

“Don’t worry until I come back with news.” The brown haired person stood up and left, heading towards the bathroom.

You watched the nice brown haired person go off towards the restrooms. You watched them weave around tables, even stopping now and then to peek over diners’ shoulders, looking at what they had decided to eat for the night. They were strange, but in an endearing way - something you weren’t entirely used to seeing on these dates.

“You know,” The blonde guy spoke up suddenly, snapping you back to reality, “They’ve done that a few times on our dates before, as well.”

“Hm?” You turned to the brown haired person’s date.

The blonde guy smiled, “My date, they get interested in something in the bathroom and don’t bother coming back out for half an hour. The first time is scary, but you’ll get used to their curious mind.”

You grinned weakly at the nice man, “Yeah, I have a feeling there won’t be anything to get used to because there won’t be another date.”

The blonde boy furrowed his eyebrows, “Oh?”

“He wasn’t the best date I’ve been on, nor the best person I’ve been on a date with.” You turned towards the bathroom in time to catch the blonde man’s date making their way back across the restaurant with a frown. “In fact, he’s the first date to ever crawl out of a bathroom window to get away from me.”

“I’m sure that’s not what happened,” The blonde man said with a worried glance at his date. You weren’t sure how you knew it, but you were entirely sure of the redhead’s escape.

“He’s gone, dear.” The brown haired person placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as they sat back in their seat. “The window was pried open, I assume he crawled out of it.”

You nodded with a fake smile, “Thank you, for checking. I can pay-”

You reached for your purse, but the brown haired person shook their head, “No, no. Don’t even try to pay me. In fact, let us pay for your meals, it’s the least we can do.”

You shook your head quickly, “No, I can pay for them, but thank you.”

“No, he left you high and dry and-”

“You’ve already done enough for me tonight.”

“-You don’t deserve to pay for a meal you didn’t even enjoy.”

While the brown haired person was distracting you with a back and forth battle of who would pay for what, the blonde man waved down a passing waiter. He mumbled something to the waiter, pointing at your table over his shoulder. The blonde man pushed a small plastic card into the waiter’s hand. The waiter nodded pityingly, running off quickly towards the hostess’s table at the entrance.

“No,” You said with another shake of your head, “You don’t have to pay for a taxi, I don’t need one-”

But, you did need one considering Floch was your ride here.

“No,” The brown haired person continued, “Let me pay for your wine. In fact, have our wine. It’s the least we can do.”

“No, I don’t need more wine-”

The waiter was back and the blonde man finally spoke up over the argument between you and his date. He held two slips of paper in his hand and looked at you both with a small smile.

“Hange,” He said to make his date stop debating with you, “It’s okay, she doesn’t need your insurance card. And, ma’am, don’t worry about the bill, it’s already been paid for, and you don’t owe me anything in return. I’ve been in your shoes before, and I wish somebody would have done this for me.”

“Sir,” You said quickly, “It’s really not that big of a deal-”

“Not anymore,” The blonde man said with a smile, “Next time you come to this restaurant, just bring somebody you trust. I promise, not everybody is as awful as that boy.”

You bit your lip to keep the newly created tears from falling. You couldn’t help the overload of emotions happening in your throat and eyes. You didn’t normally cry so easily in front of strangers, but these strangers were overly generous. And suddenly, you were remembering the last ten dates that all ended just as horribly. It seemed like nothing was working out in your favor anymore.

“Thank you,” You said with a large smile contradictory to the tears that now fell down your cheeks, “I-I don’t know where to find those not awful people, but I really hope I will someday.”

“Oh no!” Hange said as they quickly wrapped you in a tight hug. “Moblit, look, you broke her.”

Moblit giggled with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry I broke you, dear.”

You shook your head into Hange’s shoulder, accidentally wiping the tears on the shoulder of their black tux. You couldn’t express to Moblit how badly you wanted to find not awful people, and how badly you wanted a date that didn’t end horribly. It was just more complicated than that, and it seemed awful people were the only ones Jean could offer you dates with and the only ones he thought deserved dates with you. So, what did that say about how he viewed you as a person?

You spent a few minutes crying into Hange’s shoulder, mumbling incoherently about boys and school and your pot-smoking next door neighbors who are way too loud when they have sex. They listened to your tangent intently, nodding along, as if they could understand any of your words.

Once you had wiped the tears from your face and thanked the couple profusely some more, you made your way from the restaurant. You knew you could call a taxi to Jean’s apartment, but the weather was nice and his apartment wasn’t too far away. So, walking seemed like a convenient money-saving way of getting the whole date out of your mind.

You walked down the street of town, but once you got to campus, you slid the heels from your feet and into your hands. You walked across campus with your shoes balancing on your fingers like the morning after a horrible one-night stand.

Eventually you made it to Jean’s apartment building and found your way to his front door within a few minutes. You knocked on the wood with your heel and weren’t too surprised when the door opened almost immediately. Jean stood in the doorway, still shouting at the other two over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Jean said once he finally turned his attention to you, “How was the-” You swung the heel swiftly into his stomach, earning a surprised grunt from the boy.

“Don’t mention this date ever again.” You said the threatening words with a glint of anger to your voice, but your face was pressed into a sweet smile.

Jean nodded slowly, “Will you at least tell us what happened?”

You sighed, “Later, I’ll tell you, but I know Connie will bully me for it.”

Jean nodded some more, “Later?”

“The least you can do is let me stay the night.” You raised your eyebrows at the boy. “Since you made me go on the worst date of my life with a homophobic jerk.”

“Okay,” Jean said with a grin, “But only because you’re practically begging for me.”

You swung the heel into his stomach a second time, but he grabbed it before it could give any damage. You both looked intently at each other, your eyes glaring annoyedly and his eyes admiring the sight in front of him. This was exactly what you expected from him, this is exactly how he acts after these dates. He’s always the one to pick up and put back the broken pieces once the doll breaks, even if he’s the reason the doll fell in the first place.

Once you walked into the apartment, you left your shoes and purse by the door, right beside Jean’s shoes. You waved a quick hello to Connie and Sasha - who were too distracted shooting zombies to see you - as you walked past them in the living room and found your way straight to Jean’s room. You knew the apartment like the back of your hand, you had been here a million times.

You walked across the small room to your drawer that Jean keeps all of your clothes in for when you stay. You pulled it open and picked out a pair of cheetah print pajama shorts and an old t-shirt from an now irrelevant ex boyfriend. You threw the clothes on his bed, getting ready to change just when the door suddenly opened.

You turned to the door with tired eyes and furrowed eyebrows as Jean joined you in the room. He leaned against the now closed door, physically keeping the others from joining as well. He crossed his arms against his chest, taking in the sight of him - you in your satin black dress you wore on nearly every date.

“So,” Jean said finally, “What happened?”

You sighed, “He crawled through a window.”

Jean’s eyebrows furrowed, “He crawled through a window?”

“Yes, when he went to the bathroom and I called you. He crawled through a window to get away from me.” You looked anywhere around the room but the boy. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey,” Jean moved from the door, coming across the room to you, “Nothing’s wrong with you. Something’s wrong with him.” Jean held you at arm’s length, his hands on your shoulders. “Not only did he leave you, but he has a crush on Eren of all people. I’ve seen birds at the park who are more attractive than he is.”

You grinned sadly, “I bet people don’t crawl through windows to get away from Eren on dates.”

Jean ran his hand down the side of your head, “Eren doesn’t give them the chance, I don’t think he’s ever been on a date.”

“But, people would go on one with him.” You finally looked up at the boy in front of you, trying to keep the tears from spilling the second time today. “He’s not undateable. I’m undateable. I’ve scared guys away every Saturday night for the last two months.”

“You’re not undateable,” Jean said sternly, “You just haven’t found the right one. And, you won’t find the right one if you don’t keep going on these dates. Every horrible date means you’re one more Saturday closer to your soulmate.”

“And, what if I don’t have a soulmate? What if I’m damned to die alone?”

“Then, I’ll die with you.” Jean brought you in for a tight hug, your face snuggling into his firm chest. Jean whispered his words, mostly to himself, “I’d give up 200 soulmates if it only meant I could die with you.”

You closed your eyes against the soft fabric of Jean’s shirt. It was hard to trust his words when there seemed to be so many contradicting factors. Maybe tonight was a total bust, but next Saturday was a new day. You could try again next Saturday, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that. And, every Saturday for the rest of your life until you found your soulmate, even if that seemed like a pointless mission.

You’d do it for both you and Jean, it was the least you could do.

First Sunday

You woke up in Jean’s bed with his body close to yours. It was a standard cuddling position for your friendship: face-to-face, his arms wrapped around your side, your arms cradled against your chest, and your legs intertwined. Despite the normalcy associated with the position, you still woke up with a dorky smile and butterflies floating around your stomach when you saw him sleeping in front of you.

Today was no exception.

You grinned ear to ear as you watched the peaceful rise and fall of Jean’s tanned chest under the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. You watched as his lips parted against the pressure of the pillow under his cheek, a small stream of spit rolling from the corner of his mouth and onto the fabric of the pillowcase below. Every Saturday night ended with tears and regrets, but every Sunday morning began with sweet dreams and a special sleepy boy.

You turned away from Jean, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. The only way to successfully grab the phone was to also pull yourself from Jean’s grasp and from between his legs. It was a horrible price to be paid, but it had to be paid nonetheless.

You checked your lock screen, reading over playful messages from your roommate asking about how good Floch was in bed - assuming you had stayed at his house since you hadn’t come home. And, a few confused messages from Eren asking you who Floch was, why he was texting him, and how he was connected to you.

You locked the phone and turned back to Jean. You were expecting the boy to still be napping peacefully, but he instead stared sleepily at you. Your face had been in a grimace from the mentions of your date last night, but Jean’s honey brown eyes quickly dissipated any negative feelings.

“Good morning,” You whispered, “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning,” Jean said as he shifted his head and wiped the spit from the corner of his mouth. He was hoping you hadn’t noticed the wetness and that you weren’t questioning the wiping motion he made at his cheek. “And I-”

You smiled, “From the drool spot on the pillowcase, I’ll have to assume you slept well.”

Jean’s cheeks turned rosy, you could see the physical embarrassment on his face. He wasn’t the type to accept humiliation so easily, he was always one to fight back. Just his humiliation isn’t enough, if he’s going down, he’s taking as many people he can take with him. So, you weren’t sure why you were surprised when he swiftly sat up, grabbed the pillow, and attempted to shove the wet spot into your face.

You yelped, rolled, and sprung from the bed only a second before the pillow could land on your cheek, right where it was heading. You were up on your feet quicker than you ever thought you could be, your body still feeling the aftereffects of sleep. You looked down at the boy in front of you, the pillow still tightly gripped in his hands and a mischievous smile smacked across his face.

“You little bastard,” You said with a shocked smile.

Jean smiled back, “I’m actually quite big.” The words were meant as a joke about his body’s size, but both of your dirty minds immediately jumped to the size of something else on his body. “In more ways than one.”

You shouted at the boy between the giggles escaping from your throat, “Jean! Seriously!”

Jean shrugged, laughing along at his own joke, “I’m sorry, I had to!”

“You didn’t have to do shit!” You made your way to the bedroom door. “I’m going home!”

“One bad joke and now you’re leaving.” Jean leaped from the bed, following you to the door. “At least let me make you breakfast first.”

You turned to him with an intrigued glint in your eyes, “Will you make me waffles?”

“Sure,” Jean said as he playfully shoved your shoulder, “I’ll make you waffles.”

“With chocolate chips?” He walked in front of you, leaving the room with you following behind him like a child.

“Yes, I can add chocolate chips.” Jean tried to hide the grin spreading across his cheeks. “Do you want bacon and sausage as well?”

“Shut up,” You said from behind his back, “You know that I don’t.”

His voice sounded sweet, “Yeah, I do know.”

You stood against the counter, only a foot away from where he stirred the waffle mix. You watched as he eyed the waffle box intently, then poured the four other ingredients into the bowl after the dry mix. He looked a bit confused as he moved the spoon around the bowl, as if he was deathly afraid of missing something but not wanting to give the impression that he’d be stupid enough to miss something.

You knew where the coffee was kept and how to work his coffee machine and while you waited for it to brew, you watched Jean with a weak smile across your face. He could feel your eyes on him. Jean tried to ignore the weight of your eyes, not wanting his cheeks to go red though his chest was already inflating from the action.

Jean spared a glance in your direction, only a few seconds before the coffee finished brewing with a loud splash. For those few seconds when both of your eyes were held on each other, time seemed to slow. You could read the admirational glint in his brown eyes and he could read the appreciative glint in your eyes. Before the moment could go much further, you turned away and grabbed the coffee pot and mugs.

You not only knew which coffee beans Jean preferred, but you also knew how he liked his coffee. You poured a little bit of his roommate’s creamer into his mug, and then the tiniest bit of sugar as well. After the coffee was finished, you handed him the mug with a quick smile.

Waffles eventually found themselves on plates and forks eventually found themselves in between fingers. You both ate breakfast against the kitchen counter, Jean leaning down farther than you had to. You moved your fork against the softness of the slightly underdone waffles - he didn’t know just how much batter was supposed to go into the waffle maker at once.

Jean suddenly spoke up by your side, “Are you free this Saturday?”

You turned to the boy, “I normally am. Who’s next?”

“I have a friend on the football team.” Jean ignored your initial grimace to the statement. “He’s nice and desperate, the way you like ‘em.”

You turned back to your waffle with a small pout, “Maybe I should give guys a break for a little.” Jean raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll just become a nun and write off men altogether.”

“You can’t do that!”

Your head snapped back to Jean, “I can’t?”

“No,” Jean said, “You can’t.”

“And, why can’t I?”

“You just can’t.”

A thick silence had settled in the room, the only sound being the scraping of forks against the porcelain plates. You wondered why Jean was against you becoming a nun. You assumed it was because he was the type to fight persistently, so possibly the idea of giving up on something indefinitely was foreign and upsetting to him. You knew he indirectly reflected onto other people, yourself included.

After a few more moments of silence, Jean started walking away. You watched him as he moved across the living room, heading straight towards his bedroom. Right before the boy could get to the door, he turned to you with a single raised eyebrow and a cocky grin.

“Hey,” Jean said from across the room, “Do you wanna go to the bathroom before I do?”

You looked around the kitchen with a confused look on your face, as if the apartment could give you any clue as to what he was implying with his words. You didn’t have to use the bathroom, nor did you ever insinuate within the last twenty minutes that you did.

You tilted your head curiously, “Why would I need to go to the bathroom before you?”

Jean smiled at the idea of his next words, already proud of himself, “Just to make sure I can’t crawl out through the window.”

Jean laughed as you pretended to throw your fork across the spacious apartment. He was proud of his joke, and you had to admit that you weren’t as upset as you should have been. Last night, the idea of your date crawling through a window in order to get away from you was the worst thing that had ever happened. But with Jean, it was just a funny memory.

Jean came back to the kitchen after a few moments, still giggling lightly about his joke he made nearly two whole minutes ago. You ignored his cockiness by trying to fight the smile forming on your face.

Jean leaned towards you, wrapping a muscled arm around your shoulders. Being pressed against his body in this way made you now realize how he smelled. He smelled of a rich cologne of rose and mahogany. You hadn’t noticed the cologne before he left for the bathroom, but it could have very well slipped past you.

Jean spoke from above you, “I’m glad you aren’t still upset about last night.”

“I never said that.” You looked up at the boy, his arm still around you. “But, I am starting to see the humor in the situation.”

“Good,” Jean said with a smile, “It’s not nearly as bad as that guy who asked if his mom could join you for the date.”

You cringed at the thought, “And, I said yes.”

“And, the one who asked for a vial of your blood.”

You shrugged at the taller boy, “At least he asked, there was the one guy who stole my hair scrunchie without asking first. I think he used it so he could clone me.”

“Yeah.” Jean quickly remembered another awful date. “And, the one who gave you a yarn doll of yourself as a first date gift.”

You smiled widely, “I’m nearly a hundred percent sure that it was actually a Voodoo doll. I’m glad I accepted it before I told him no to a second date.”

Jean grinned down at you, only an inch or two from your face. It was hard not to smile when looking at the boy. He was beautiful and reminded you of an ancient sun god. From his tanned skin, to his lively brown eyes, and his deeply inviting smile. It was hard to look at Jean and not feel your heart skip a beat, especially when you were so close to him.

“They’re all funny stories now,” Jean said, “So, that’s good.”

You moved deeper into his arm, “Funny stories that I don’t need.”

“But, funny stories nonetheless.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled sarcastically, “Thanks to you.”

“Hey!” Jean was pulling you into a quick bear hug as you laughed against his chest. “I try to find the University’s best guys for you! They are truly the school’s finest.”

“Then, why do they all suck?”

He didn’t answer your question because he wasn’t sure he knew why. He didn’t know why he threw these horrible guys onto you, under the impression of them being good matches. But, in his defense, it was hard to find somebody of your quality.

You were a goddess amongst mortals and these men could never be enough for you. And, if these men were mortals compared to you, then Jean felt he wasn’t even a mortal. He was the dirt hiding in the crevices of somebody’s shoe, he was the dust somebody breathed in before they yawned. Jean felt he could never equal up to you, but maybe these other guys could get close. And, maybe - just maybe - if he helps you get a boyfriend, then he wouldn’t think about you being a goddess so much.

Next Chapter

[blitzturtles]

Title: It Starts Like This, Ch. 7

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba

Summary: Trish freezes in the doorway, mid-stride, but she doesn’t turn around. Her shoulders are tense, and she looks prepared to bolt at the slightest hint of trouble. It adds weight to his ongoing theory that she’s been steering clear of him, and now it’s time to confirm whether or not he knows why.

Notes: Turns out being dead has a bit of a long term effect. Who would have thought?

This fic got away from me, so I'm breaking it down by character interaction (sort of). This is Trish's chapter, which should be the second to last! I'll still write in this universe in the future, though they'll likely be one-shots going forward.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

-

Bucciarati steps into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty. As far as he knew, the only three people at home were Narancia, Leone, and himself. The former is busy doing his homework in the library, while Bruno’s just left Leone’s presence to explore the contents of the pantry. Alone. Or so he’d thought.

A blur of pink nearly startles Bucciarati as badly as he must scare Trish, considering the way she nearly jumps out of her seat at the dining room table. Rather than sit back down, she’s scrambling up to weave past him. “Oh! Bucciarati! I’m sorry, I can- I can go,” she says, moving almost too quickly for Bucciarati to recover in time to catch her, much less speak.

“Wait, Trish.”

Trish freezes in the doorway, mid-stride, but she doesn’t turn around. Her shoulders are tense, and she looks prepared to bolt at the slightest hint of trouble. It adds weight to his ongoing theory that she’s been steering clear of him, and now it’s time to confirm whether or not he knows why.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Bucciarati says, speaking the words slowly. Carefully. He doesn’t want to chase her off before they have a chance to talk.

Trish sucks in a breath, but she doesn’t find the right words to reply despite the frantic look in her eyes.

Bucciarati decides that’s his cue to continue. “Since the day in Giorno’s office, you won’t stay in any room that I am in alone.” He picks his words as carefully as he can. He’s not offended, but he doesn’t know how to emphasize that to her while still getting down to the root of the problem. “Something’s bothering you.”

“I’ve just been busy,” Trish manages to squeak out.

Bucciarati doesn’t need to brush up on his interrogation skills to know that she’s lying. She isn’t particularly good at it, either. At least not when she’s trying to lie to him. Someone else, maybe, but he sees right through the brave face she attempts.

“Trish.”

“It’s nothing! Really!” She grabs the doorframe, as if he might drag her back into the kitchen when she makes a run for it.

“If I may be so bold,” Bucciarati starts, still careful, “You’re feeling guilty. You have been for a while.” He doesn’t need all of his life experience to know that. The look on her face screams it.

Trish wavers in place. Her hand drops from the doorframe, but only so she can wrap her arms around her middle. She hugs herself tightly, as if she can ward away the onslaught of reality. It makes Bucciarati feel guilt of his own for pushing the subject. Maybe she isn’t ready, but he doesn’t want her pain to continue over this. He thinks she’s done more than enough self-loathing, and the punishment is unjust. She’s committed no crime.

Blood once meant everything to Bucciarati. He killed for his blood, traded his life away to the mafia for a few short and illness-riddled years for his blood, but he would never assign the sins of the father to that of the child. Trish is not-- and never has been-- her father. She isn’t capable of doing half of the things Diavolo did in his life.

Trish’s breathing hitches, and it’s all the encouragement that Bucciarati needs. He carefully moves toward her, stepping around her turned back so that they’re facing one another. He brushes his fingers through her hair and tucks some of it away from her face. The first tear falls then, and it breaks his heart.

“Trish,” he repeats, hoping she’ll look at him, but he knows she won’t. All she does is tuck her chin into her shoulder in shame. If she can’t run, then she might as well try hiding. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I know,” she says. Lies.

Bucciarati sighs, though immediately regrets it when Trish flinches away from him. For lack of a better idea, he pulls Trish against his chest and smooths a hand over her hair. “You didn’t do this.”

“But you did it for me!”

Ah. There it is.

“And I would do it again,” Bucciarati reassures. “I didn’t expect our path to involve you, but Giorno and I had intended on taking down your father before we met you. You didn’t change that.” Though she had given him a renewed purpose. A reason to fight even beyond death.

“It doesn’t matter,” Trish insists with a voice that breaks halfway through.

Bucciarati can feel the wetness of her tears against his-- or, rather, Abbacchio’s-- shirt beginning to build as more fall. He continues to brush his fingers through her mass of pink curls. “You didn’t hurt me, Trish.”

“But he did, and he did it because you were trying to protect me!”

“Losing you wasn’t an option,” Bucciarati answers with a gentle squeeze. He lets his chin rest on top of her head and takes a moment to calm his own thoughts.

“Why?” She asks when the silence stretches on between them.

Bucciarati doesn’t think that’s the question that she really wants to ask. And he knows that she doesn’t want-- and won’t accept-- the answer, anyway. Because you deserve to live, he would tell her, if it would mean anything to her right now. He knows what she’ll say in response. Knows she’ll tell him the same, and that his life wasn’t worth her’s.

“You didn’t choose this life,” it’s a gentle reminder, but one that she apparently needs. Her situation is a result of her birth. There’s nothing she did to warrant any of this. “None of this is your fault.”

“Like you did?” Trish snaps the words at him, all sharp edges and surprisingly painful. “Why do you think you deserve this?” She’s demanding now, despite the snuffle in her voice. She’s more anger than unending melancholy, and it’s throwing him off, but not as much the words himself. He doesn’t have an answer to give. Not this time.

She deflates after a moment of receiving no reply and tries to pull away, but he won’t let her. He knows she regrets the words, but he understands why they hang in the air. Why she had to say them. It’s not as if she’s wrong, but that doesn’t mean he knows what to do with them.

“You save everyone around you, and- and for what?” Her hand slams against his chest, open palmed and far from painful. “Was it really worth it?” Her voice is no more than a whisper now.

“Yes,” Bucciarati answers; this time without hesitation, because this is an answer that he does have. A truth that he knows with absolute certainty.

Trish chokes on a sob, and Bucciarati pulls her against him once more.

“Why?” She repeats her earlier question.

Grief is a miserable thing, and he finds that question at the center of it so often. He remembers asking himself that on a loop for years on end without ever finding an answer that satisfied him after all the suffering.

Silence stretches over them once more, and he lets Trish cry with the question hanging between them. It doesn’t matter anymore. The important part is that he’s pushed past the worst of it. He’s confident now that she won’t continue to avoid him. At least not to the same degree. The healing will take time, but he hopes that she’ll allow him to take part in it. That’s all he could truly ask of her anyway. He wants to be there for the people he cares about when they need it, regardless of whatever’s happening in his own head.

“I’m sorry,” Trish says when her sobs slow, and she’s hiccupping more than gasping. She tries to wipe at the tears with frantic hands, but he interrupts her to offer the handkerchief from his pocket.

“Don’t be.”

After taking a moment to wipe at her face, she looks at him again and her expression shifts to mild horror as she takes in the mixture of snot and tears staining the front of his shirt. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

Bucciarati can’t help barking out a short laugh. He squeezes her shoulder gently. “Ah, no harm done. It’s one of Leone’s, anyway.” The dismissiveness is only a joke. He’ll replace the shirt before Leone notices it’s gone, but he gets his intended effect when she lets out a startled laugh that has him smiling warmly at her in response.

“Oh, you were coming in here. Are you hungry?” Trish asks, suddenly remembering how their entire conversation started. She shifts her eyes to the table, clearly not ready to part ways now that they’ve worked through some of what’s been bothering her.

Bucciarati is more than happy to take the invitation. He goes a step further and turns it around on her, “Actually, I was thinking about having some gelato. Care to join me?”

“Depends,” Trish says with false hesitance. She’s teasing him now, and it makes him smile even wider in response, “What kind?”

“Stracciatella?”

Trish tries not to beam, and Bucciarati bites back an endeared laugh. She seems lighter now. Less restrained. She’s not trying to hide from him or avoid letting him see her emotions. There’s a weight off of her shoulders, and he’s glad that he could alleviate some of her misplaced blame.

“Can we eat in the living room?”

“I don’t see why not,” Bucciarati says with a shrug. It’s not as though they haven’t all broken that rule time and time again.

“You’re the best!” Trish calls as she bounces out of the room, presumably to find something for them to watch.

Bucciarati takes a moment to compose a text to Leone. A quick, barely legible update to the ‘Trish situation’, as they’d affectionately been calling it. Leone sends his response before Bucciarati’s phone touches the counter, and he bites back a fond smile, knowing that Leone must have been waiting for an update after so long. He’s doing his best to avoid being overbearing, but it’s not always easy.

Trish pokes her head back through the doorway before Bucciarati can set his phone back down, though she doesn’t give it a second glance before asking, “Are cartoons okay?”

“Depends,” Bucciarati says, reaching for the bowls. “Are they the ones Mista likes?”

“God no.”

“Then yes.”

[lizacstuff]

Your thoughts on the first episode of the new season? And can we talk about all those parallels? Also I'm loving the summer vibes!

I'm LIVING for the summer vibes! Doesn't everything feel like a breath of fresh air? I definitely feel like new life has been injected into the series. And that new location is so beautiful, I LOVE IT.

As for the episode, I thought it was masterfully done. You could tell Ayse was back and bringing the perfect mix of comedy, romance and drama. And the sparkle! The show sparkles again. The almost two and half hours flew buy, I was on the edge of my seat, and the performances from Hande and Kerem were amazing. Plus I just adore every moment between Serkan and his new nemesis (aka his secret daughter).

On the sober side, I don't care how jerky Serkan got while battling cancer, or how he may have pushed her away, nothing they've shown us so far even begins to justify Eda not telling him about Kiraz, and it certainly doesn't justify her continuing to lie when he's standing right in front of her making overtures (and her daughter is clearly longing for her father). Obviously, there are still many things we don't know and I'm sure there are many flashbacks to come, and Eda has been though so much, but still...I don't see how they will thread that needle and have Eda come out unscathed.

That being said, with this first episode they executed this story so well and it really does give new life to the series, so I won't dwell on the fact that Eda never would have done this. Never. We just have to move past it, accept that it's a soap opera plot device designed to give us an amazing second season packed with all sorts of amazing scenes and just enjoy every minute while it lasts.

(More under the cut)

I'll get to more on Edser later, as for everyone else... silliness abounds.

First... Erdem cheated on Leyla? WHAT!?!?! With whom? But I guess that was a clean way to explain Leyla leaving.

Engin and Piril, I love that Engin is staying home with their son, and that young actor is a cutie! As for Piril... GRRRRRR... she is still on my shitlist. Last time it was for betraying Eda (and Serkan) by enabling Selin's reign of terror, this time it's by betraying her friend and business partner Serkan! Good grief. If Piril just found out recently at the start of this project I could accept on her holding off because it's not her secret to run off and tell, but what I can't accept is her actively working against Serkan finding out. Even if in this episode she had gently said to Eda... "do you think maybe it's time you told him?" it would be a lot easier to swallow... but nope! She's acting like it would be the end of the world if Serkan found out. I sincerely hope that when everyone finds out and Engin finds out Piril knew, it causes problems between them. She deserves that.

She remains my second least favorite character. Who was my least favorite character this episode? Oh you know! Awful Ayfer is back! We got a reprieve from her in the last arc, but she's back to her annoying, controlling, Serkan-hating ways. Eda is a mother, an international award-winning landscape architect and business owner and she still has to lie to Ayfer because she's such a pain-in-the-ass? Watching her is going to be a trial.

Even though it feels like both Aydan and Ayfer were reset to zero character development, and Aydan has done worse (keeping the fact that Serkan was alive from Eda) I still find her a much easier character to take. Probably because Neslihan is a much better comedic actress, so she's a lot more entertaining. But... Aydan's been with Kemal for 5 years and hasn't told Serkan? WHY? I can't believe Kemal didn't give her an ultimatum years ago. I was loving, however, Serkan being in the way for both Aydan/Kemal and Engin/Piril. GOOD. Those people caused problems for him at one point or another or were in the way, it was nice to see him return the favor. I like Kemal and am still hoping they'll do a parallel "not knowing your father thing" and reveal he's Serkan's bio dad while Serkan is finding out he had a child he never knew about.

Melo and Seyfi were their awesome supportive, funny selves. It was great to see both of them, I'm so glad they stayed.

As for the new characters, love the kids. The new hotel manager is apparently ditzy and starstruck over Serkan, and I don't really understand how she's going to be integrated into the cast, but I love that she was used as a device to show us that Serkan has zero interest in any woman who is not Eda Yildiz. Eda's assistant seems like he'll be a fine side character. As for Burak, he seems harmless, obviously he has feeling for Eda that she does not reciprocate (fuck off Ayfer trying to push her on him) but hopefully they don't make him a psycho like Deniz. I did think he was a bit out of line to Serkan. Isn't that his cafe? And a customer has his glass spilled by a child in his care, and he insults him instead of apologizing? That is the worst customer service I've ever seen! He's a character that could wear on me quickly, we shall see. Kiraz can't help but be sassy because of genetics, but some of the adults in her life seem to be modeling rude behavior!

Now on to Eda and Serkan, I can't say enough about Hande and Kerem's acting in this episode. Phenomenal! They were both brilliant. Plus both are doing a great job working off of Maya (especially Kerem) those scenes were priceless. I don't often enjoy kids on shows, but so far I'm loving this dynamic.

As for Edser, while we don't know everything yet it feels like Serkan got to a point where he couldn't stand to see Eda in pain and putting her life on hold, he outright mentioned that she might not have graduated if they'd stayed together, and so that was part of the reason he reverted to his robot self and pushed her away. I'm going to guess she tried and tried and he was just unyielding. Saying he didn't want to get married or have kids in the harshest way possible. Perhaps even she went to tell him that she was pregnant and he went off on not wanting kids before she could even tell him. Time will tell.

At this juncture, my best guess is Eda's fear is rooted in rejection. It can't be that she thinks Serkan is a terrible person that doesn't deserve to know his child, or would be detrimental to Kiraz. However, she knows what it feels like to be rejected by Serkan, I'm sure she was beyond devastated, so I'm guessing now she's bent on protecting her daughter from feeling that same rejection. She fears if he found out, but wanted nothing to do with her, it would feel worse than him not knowing. She's not thinking clearly and perhaps it hasn't even occurred to her that the man she fell in love with is still under there and that man is fully capable of opening his heart wide to their child.

The fact that this child, a stranger to him, already has him wrapped around her little finger to the tune of being late to meetings while he waits for her to pick berries, speaks volumes.

The lies that Eda is telling Kiraz though... there is a fairy tale poetry to Eda saying her father is among the stars... but there was no way this would ever end well. Such a bad idea. Eda.... has made mistakes.

As for Eda and Serkan, their reunion was so bitter sweet. The way Serkan was sure he was hallucinating her and couldn't believe she was real, speaks to the fact that his thinking he saw her that morning was not an anomaly. It must happen all the time. She's never left his thoughts in 5 years. Especially since Engin makes it clear that women throw themselves at Serkan all the time, and he never bites. That's a lot of years celebrate, pining after a love he lost through his own actions. Though it's not that surprising that he didn't pursue other women, as he's never been a character who was motivated by sex. Which makes it hilarious that during his presentation that's where his mind was at, remembering their intimate times together. Serkan Bolat is an Edasexual.

Serkan seemed to want to brush past what happened between them, how they ended, but from Eda's pain, it's clear it was gut-wrenching and tragic and that's something he's going to need to recon with in the coming episodes. But how refreshing that they actually talked! That Eda actually expressed her pain to him! Wowza, that's a change from recent episodes when they didn't even have a proper conversation after he got his memory back.

The flashback scenes were a combination of pure brilliance and pain. Just rip out my heart why don't you. Serkan's angry reactions seem very believable for someone suffering what he was going through. I think it's typical to lash out at the person closest to you. And their fear and pain, their commitment to getting him better and seeing it through... those scenes were made all the more heartbreaking knowing that they didn't make it out the other side intact.

On a lighter note, I loved how even despite their intention and best efforts to remain closed off to one another, and away from one another, they couldn't. Physically, Serkan couldn't stay away, and every time Eda was in his presence you saw her resolve slip and her start to feel that old pull towards him. The fact that Eda thinks there's any way to keep this secret and get rid of him, she must just be in full panic mode and not thinking clearly. She's never going to shake him.

Thank goodness Serkan came back and actually issued a sincere apology for what he said at coffee. He definitely owed her one, but what was extraordinary is that it showed that the growth he went through when they were together didn't regress. He was able to apologize and explain that he was angry and hurt and that's why it happened. If you remember from the first time around, saying sorry was something he was just unable to do, so this felt big to me. He's not the same robot Bolat, she left an indelible mark on him.

As for him making her present her proposal, it's really not out-of-line for the professional relationship, however, we all know he did it just so he had an excuse to be around her. That man will take any excuse, plus he likes to get a rise out of her.

The dinner scene was breathtaking. How beautiful and achingly romantic was that setting? Wowza. And what a roller coaster of emotion those scenes were. It was great to watch them talk and laugh. Who didn't swoon when he deveined her shrimp and when she gave him fries? But we had to know it wouldn't last. Eda's speech had me breathless. Serkan had that coming, it hurt but it had to happen. What a relief to see them get things out in the open. Now I hope we get to see them really talk about what happened and why. Explain yourself Serkan!

As for the next episode, I was so hopeful that the Kiraz secret would be out after the final scene, but the first fragman makes it look like that's not going to happen, at least not at the start of the episode. My fear is that if Eda outright lies to him that just makes everything worse. The longer she keeps it from him, when they're back in each other's orbits and it's clear he's not running away, it makes her more and more at fault.

In any case, it looks like we're in for some fabulous scene so I look forward to the second episode!

[astarryon]

Amends

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and weapons, slight language, short fight scene, etc.

Summary: The last thing you expect to find when you come home is the most important ghost from your haunted past.

A/N: Not really sure where this one came from, just something I dreamed up after watching the first episode of TFATWS! Let me know what y’all think!

Masterlist

It’s the sharp, cloying scent of cologne that tips you off.

You don’t think much of it at first, initially having caught the trail of it down the hall from your apartment door. Automatically, you assume it belongs to one of your neighbors, or even one of the guests they’ve invited over for the night. Nothing to harbor any sort of significant concern over.

That changes the instant you reach your front door.

It’s locked. In addition to that, the hall light is off, and from what you can see there’s only darkness to be seen beyond the bottom crack of the door. For all intents and purposes, as far as you can tell, everything is exactly how you’d left it upon leaving your home earlier in the evening. But the closer you’d walked to your door, the more concentrated the scent had become –– to the point that it’s now the only thing your sharpened senses can focus on.

You didn’t used to be like this. Paranoid. Always instantly assuming the worst, to note something as simple as the smell of cologne hanging in the air and immediately jump to the conclusion that it meant someone had finally come to put an end to you. There’d been a time, once, when you trusted easily and laughed with everyone. When you would make conversations with strangers as you passed them by on the street, when you could spend ages soaking in the sun with your eyes closed with no worry of whether you’d open them to find a knife buried in your chest or a bullet lodged in your skull.

But you hadn’t been that way in a very, very long time. And as you crack the door to your apartment open, reaching for the knife hidden at your hip as the cologne’s stench only grows stronger, you can’t help but wonder if that isn’t as much a blessing as it is a curse.

Your apartment is dark, but that doesn’t make much difference to you. You’ve got the space memorized like the back of your hand, know where each corner is and where every weapon is placed –– home court advantage. Stepping inside and closing the door as softly as you can, you make sure to keep your back to the wall, clutching the handle of your knife ever tighter. You might know your way around, but you’ve been intentionally dulling your senses, your reflexes, in an effort to bury the past and leave it behind you. You’re not entirely sure where the intruder is in your home, and you’ll be damned before you let them get the drop on you before you’ve put up a proper fight.

And then you hear it. A creak in the floor boards with the shifting of body weight, just to your right. In your chest, your heart thumps so forcefully that you’re positive its bound to explode right through your ribcage, and you know you don’t have much time, but that doesn’t stop you from slipping your eyes closed for the single spare second you do have and steeling yourself for what’s sure to come before opening them again, sliding your gaze just over your shoulder to assess the present threat.

Your mouth instantly runs dry the moment you lay eyes on him.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says softly, but your reflexes kick in the moment he speaks and before you can blink, you launch at him in a flurry of fists and panic.

That face. How many hours have you spent trying to convince yourself you would never see that face again, never have that bone chilling, bloodcurdling voice rasping in your ear? How much time have you spent nervously glancing over your shoulder, moving from apartment to apartment because something in your gut told you he was on your trail? You didn’t want to believe it, had always tried to reassure yourself that he was gone –– that all of Hydra was gone –– but you’d never quite managed to convince yourself.

And, given that you’d just walked into your apartment to find the Winter Soldier staring back at you, that was apparently for good reason.

He blocks the first hit you throw at him easily, sidestepping out of its way. The second manages to clip him on the jaw, though it doesn’t succeed in knocking him back as it would on any normal person. He opens his mouth to speak again, but you don’t give him the chance to get a word out before you send a kick flying toward his face. He’s forced to duck and roll, which in turn gives you an opening to launch another kick, but he reaches out with a hand and clamps a vice like grip around your ankle.

All it takes is one decisive tug for him to put you flat on your back.

“Stop,” he snaps, reaching to knock the knife from your grip. Funny, that. In your panic to land a hit on him, you hadn’t even thought to make use of it. “Stop fighting. I’m not here to hurt you.”

It’s the second time the words fall from his mouth, but as with the first, they don’t leave much of an impression.

The Winter Soldier looks just the same as the last time you’d been in his presence, save for shorter hair and a clean shaven face. His skin is still pale as a sheet, turned ghostly in the few slivers of moonlight that manage to creep their way through the blinds hanging in the window. His eyes are still ice, a shade of blue that makes you grind your teeth and sets your nerves on edge. He’s got that same melancholy about him that had been there the first time you’d seen him, though now you knew better than to sympathize with it, to trust it.

Making that mistake years ago had cost you your life as you knew it.

“Get off me,” you command, struggling hard.

It’s no use –– his grip is much too strong. You won’t be going anywhere until he wants you to.

“Please stop,” he tries, an odd desperation in his words.

“Get off me!” you yell again, kicking with your legs like a helpless child.

The Winter Soldier clamps the hand not preoccupied with pinning your wrists above your head over your mouth, waiting for your muffled screams and swears to die down before trying to speak again.

“Look, this is simple,” he sighs tiredly, inexplicable sadness shining in his eyes. “I will let go of you as soon as you calm down. Alright? All I want is to have a conversation.”

You want to call bullshit, but his hand over your mouth still robs you of your voice. You aren’t sure what game he’s playing, but it doesn’t seem like he’s leaving you with much of a choice but to participate. And… well, technically up to this point, every move he’s made has been defensive. Perhaps playing along wouldn’t necessarily be the worst course of action.

He removes his touch from your body as soon as you nod and go still, making it clear that you have no intention to repeat your flurry of attacks from before. Part of you is tempted to make an attempt to pull one over on him, strike and get up and leave as fast as you can, but you know it would be in vain. He’s faster than you, always has been. It wouldn’t take more than a passing second for him to get his hand around your throat and squeeze.

The two of you sit together in silence for a few awkward minutes, trading nothing but ragged, adrenaline spiked breaths and charged stares between you. Just when you’re sure his ploy for peace had been nothing more than a cheap trick to allow him time to catch his breath before finishing the job and killing you, he opens his mouth, then closes it again, and repeats this sequence of actions two more times before actually giving a voice to his words.

“My name is James,” he tells you, casting his eyes down to the floor. “I’m… I’m not who I used to be.”

“You’re not?” you seethe, barely managing to keep your volume level in check. “You sure look the same.”

“I’m not,” the Winter Soldier –– or, James, as he’d introduced himself –– insisted. “Not at all.”

“That’s funny,” you spit, hands trembling where you’ve forced them to remain down at your sides. If you squeeze your fists any tighter, you’ll be sure to snap a bone. “Because I remember you. You and all the little lessons you made sure to incorporate into your training.”

“That wasn’t me,” James mutters lowly, jaw working hard enough that the grind of his teeth was audible.

“Oh, wasn’t it, though?” you hiss, flashes of red anger lacing your vision. “You weren’t the one who dislocated my arm and then forced me to spar without resetting it? You weren’t the one who taught me to lie by holding a blade to my throat and pressing the knife harder against my skin every time you saw a shift in my expression? Neither of those were you?”

“No,” he mumbles, but you hardly hear it, and you don’t care to.

You aren’t done with him. Not yet.

“Then you also must not be the one responsible for the deaths of my family,” you throw at him, the tang of iron souring the back of your tongue. “The one who took my parents away from me with the squeeze of a trigger? The same one who happens to be the whole reason that Hydra managed to get their hands on me in the first place? You knew what it was like, to be taken and turned into a monster, a–– a machine for them to build to suit their needs and use whenever they felt like they didn’t have enough power, but you didn’t care. You could have stopped that from happening to me, but you didn’t.”

“That wasn’t me,” James snaps, raising his hoarse voice at you for the first time all evening. The sudden outburst is so jarring it takes you aback, forcing a pause in the functions of your brain. All you can do is continue gazing upon the quiet anger which slowly boils into James’ features. “You were with Hydra for twenty years before Steve blew their cover, I was with them for seventy. Seven decades, doing the work of the people I enlisted in the world war to stop in the first place. Knowing that, do you honestly think the things I did were at all my own decisions?”

You cross your arms, swallowing hard as your gaze switches from his contorted expression to the floor. You don’t want to hear this. All these years hiding, trying to get back to some semblance of normal and carve out as much of a life as you could for yourself, it hadn’t been the faces of the Hydra operatives that haunted your nightmares each time you closed your eyes to fall asleep. It had been one with eyes blue as ice and twenty times colder, no compassion, compunction, or remorse to be found at all within their depths. One with a gaze deader than any of the corpses he’d been responsible for making.

That face was his.

“So why are you here then?” you sigh, still staring at the floor. You can’t trust yourself with anything else, not right now. Actually looking up at him holds the potential to yield very dangerous results. “To finish the job? I’m not stupid, I know none of the other agents are left. But if you think I’m just going to sit here all quiet and make killing me easier on you––”

“Oh, you people and your assumptions,” James mutters blackly under his breath, reaching a gloved hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “That is not why I’m here. Which I might have been able to tell you if you’d just let me get a word in edgewise.”

“You mean like you used to let me?” you scoff, rolling your eyes to the ceiling and doing your damnedest not to give into the rage rising in your chest. “You’ll have to forgive me for not buying that, considering the entirety of our past and all.”

“Christ,” he gripes, more to himself than to you, “and Raynor says I’m paranoid.” The name isn’t one you recognize, but to James its significance is clear. Speaking it seems to serve as a reminder to him, and he exhales deeply and loosens his shoulders in response to it. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he almost appeared to be counting himself down to his next sentence –– like it was so important he needed to work his way up to it. “I’m here… because…”

You blink, tilting your head to the side as you await his explanation. Actively refraining from attempting any guesses. Not exactly a challenge. If he truly didn’t come here to kill you, then his motive was a complete mystery.

Ages pass before he finally works up the nerve to say what he’s been meaning to.

“I’m here,” he sighs, carefully enunciating each word like he’s afraid they’ll break if he doesn’t pay them enough care, “because I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am… I am James Bucky Barnes, and you are part of my effort to make amends.”

His words are small, crafted with the brittleness of glass and about ten times as fragile. They’re spoken so resolutely that you’re positive this isn’t the first instance in which he’s uttered them to another human, but they seem… choked, for lack of a better description. Judging by his grimace, they clearly don’t come easily, either.

You’re entirely unsure what to make of them.

“You don’t have to say anything,” James assures you, clasping his hands together in a manner that almost looks meek. “I don’t expect… What I’m trying to say is that it’s not transactional, this apology. There isn’t anything I want from you, or anything I’m looking to take. Just… My doctor, she had me write out a list of names of people to confront, and some to apologize to. That’s the one yours is on.”

You hear the words coming out of his mouth. What’s more, you understand them in a conceptual sense. But for some reason your brain lags in correlating the words and their meanings, in properly contextualizing them in accordance with his soft tone and the sincere regret in his eyes. Of all the nights you’d spent living in fear of this exact moment, that your mentor of once upon a time would one day appear to quietly finish you off, the last thing you’d ever expected to be met with instead was this.

Whatever this was, exactly.

You scan his body head to toe once more, searching more carefully this time. Dressed in all black as he was, it made it slightly more difficult to be certain, but you don’t see any telltale signs of a gun hiding anywhere beneath his clothing. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one, nor did it mean there was no knife strapped to his arm or tucked away in his boot, but you could spy no evidence.

So, no weapons. No yelling, other than to cut through your assumptions of violence. No hissed warnings or threats. No apparent sign he’s looking for a fight. Each of your senses scream at you to ignore all of this, to put no trust at all into the meaningless words of a man, a machine, who had only ever served to bring strife and suffering into your life. Even in spite of the realization that he’s likely unarmed, you still find yourself tempted to attack and flee before he inevitably makes his move.

But then…

“Why?”

The question catches each of you by surprise. James, because he clearly hadn’t expected much of a response, and if he got one, he didn’t think it would be simple as a posed curiosity, and you, because you hadn’t truly meant to ask the question aloud.

“Why…?” James echoes, brow furrowing in confusion. Certainly a sight to behold. Time away from existing as the Winter Soldier had evidently made his face that much more expressive.

Strange, that there could be so much to read in that face, yet so little at the same time.

You open your mouth to speak, carefully sifting through words in your mind before deciding upon the proper combination to convey your meaning. “Why would you want to do something like that?”

James squints in confusion. “Apologize?” he reiterates, gears in his head visibly turning a mile a minute.

“You had to know what I would think,” you explain, “seeing you after all this time. You say you have a list? Well, I can’t be the only one who instantly jumped to the worst case scenario. Why would you… why would you want to put yourself through something like that? A slideshow of the people you hurt? That’s painful, James.”

“No more painful than all the things I did to them,” James sighs, shoulders deflating. “To you. And anyway, it wasn’t me who did all those things. It was someone else’s will, I was just… I was just the tool. That’s not something I can change, and I can’t bring back all the people Hydra used me to kill. But I can apologize for it, because I am sorry. Just like I’m sorry for my part in what happened to you.”

You can see it more clearly, now. The human in him. Before, he’d been cold. Mechanic. Void of any and all emotion as far as the eye could see. That had made it easy to hate him, all those days he’d made you fight, spar, endure endless physical and emotional pain until you learned to be the tool Hydra wanted you to be. In your pain, your rage, your fear that all you would know for the rest of your existence were dark rooms and metal walls, the Winter Soldier had been the one to incur your wrath.

But this man was not the one you’d known. This man was different. This was a man whose eyes glimmered with remorse so bright it looked like unshed tears. This was a man with a face so expressive it was hard to believe you’d known its features for decades. A man who only wanted to talk, because if he’d had a more sinister motive in coming here, you would surely be dead by now.

Just as he’d told you moments ago, this man was not the Winter Soldier.

“Does it help?” you question, unable to force your words above a whisper. “Seeking people out, apologizing like this.”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” James tells you, blue eyes wandering back to the floor. The light of the moon peeking through your window casts them an odd tone of silver. “It doesn’t take the hurt away, not for me or for them. But it helps to say it out loud, that I’m not that person anymore. Not everyone believes it, but all of this isn’t for them. It’s for me.”

“To what end?” you ask, words coming out harsher than you mean them to. “What’s the point, then?”

James shrugs a shoulder, head shaking. “My doctor says closure,” he supplies, reaching up almost nervously to scratch at the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “Making amends helps process difficult situations. It’s not easy, but I figure it’s as good a shot as I’ve got to move on from all of this.”

All James was looking for was a way to move on. Wasn’t that the same thing you’d been trying to do these past few years, when you laid down to sleep at night and did your best to push all the faces of the people you’d hurt at Hydra’s direction out of your mind? You certainly wouldn’t consider yourself the same person you’d been back then. Was it really fair of you to condemn James to his past in the way you’d been trying so hard to escape yours?

“I’ve been at this a long time, James,” you sigh, shaking your head. “Trying to move on from my past, trying to… forget. So far, it hasn’t worked out.”

“Forgetting isn’t the point,” James responds carefully, analyzing your face with marked carefulness. “You’ll never be able to forget. The past will always be there. It’s not something you can run from.” He pauses then, and the next time he speaks it sounds as if he’s been struck hard by a sudden epiphany. “But you can come to terms with all of it,” he goes on, “if you try. And you really gotta try, ‘cause otherwise all that bad will still be waiting for you when you wake up in the morning. Take it from someone who knows.”

And you don’t really know what to say to that. You’re not really sure what you can say. James’ certainty is tangible. You can feel it in his words, the way they tickle your brain like ribbons and set your mind rolling down a path you don’t altogether recognize. You want to ask him about it, make him elaborate further on all that he’s said, pick each and every one of his sentences apart until you understand the methods and reasonings for what he’s doing so you can know for sure if it will work for you the same it clearly seems to be working for him.

But he’s clearing his throat and running a hand through his dark hair before you get the chance.

“Like I said,” James tells you. “I’m very sorry for the hurt and the pain my actions have caused you. I can’t take it back, and I can’t change the past. All I can do now is try to be someone better. I hope… I hope you understand.”

And then he’s gone, out the front door so quickly you don’t realize until it shuts behind him.

You scan through your dark apartment, taking note of all your surroundings. James has left no sign of his presence, hasn’t disturbed a single one of your belongings. Even his footsteps over the floor on his way out had been remarkably silent –– though that, you supposed, was characteristic of his capabilities. Here and gone in an instant, fluid as a ghost.

The realization that you’d only been aware of his presence before entering your apartment because he’d wanted you to be strikes you dumb.

He hadn’t come here to cause you harm, hadn’t shown up at your home to kill you, rid himself and the rest of the world of the living reminder of the dark things which had gone on in the Hydra base –– though, doing so would have required such little effort on his part. No, James… James’ reason for seeking you out had been exactly what he’d told you.

Making amends, in an attempt to forgive himself for the things which others surely couldn’t. Perhaps that had been your mistake all these years. Rather than beating the past out of your mind with a stick, refusing to acknowledge it for everything you’re worth… maybe trying something else was the correct way to go.

Surely taking a page out of James’ book couldn’t hurt.

Your body took charge through no accord of your own, and before you realized it, you were standing in your kitchen beneath the glow of a single light staring down at a blank sheet of paper, fingers turning the pen in your grasp over and over again in your palm.

Names. You needed to write down names. But doing that would require you to actively delve into your past, and you weren’t sure that was something you could handle much of tonight. But there was one name which immediately sprang to mind, one repeating itself over and over in your head like a mantra. Sighing, you uncapped the pen and touched its point to paper, hastily scrawling out a single name before setting it back down on the counter.

James Bucky Barnes.

A list of names to make amends, half to confront, half to apologize.

You’d been on his. It only makes sense that he’d be on yours, too.

[wordupcomics]

We would like to see more about the adventures of the boys (Violet, Scoops, Becky and Tobey) when they were teenagers we really love to see our favorite team interacting with each other 💗

Hey Anon! Sorry this took so long! It took me a while to think of things and then when I did I wanted to draw them but by that point I'd already kept you waiting for a while so I only have two drawings but I have a lot of ideas I will share through text instead!

First lets do the moment with the drawings

So it starts with the gang as teenagers, all four of them in detention. The girls and the boys got detention for different reasons, and ask the other why they are there. First Becky and Violet ask Tobey and Scoops why they're there. It's a long answer, so I'll just have Becky sum it up for you

Becky:...So...let me get this straight...Scoops saw Mr. Smith and Mrs. Stevens kissing in the parking lot, and decided to right an article about it and why we should remain loyal to our partners...and then Tobey pointed out that if anyone saw that article he could damage Mr. Smith and Mrs. Stevens marriages and get in trouble. So to avoid getting in trouble you two decided to flush the article down one of the toilets in the boys locker room and it clogged the pipes and flooded the boys locker room and you two got detention for causing damage to school property????

Tobey: Yes we hear the irony that we did that to avoid Scoops getting in trouble and then ultimately got in trouble because of it

Becky: Not even on my list of concerns right now. First of all...why did you have to destroy the article? Why couldn't you have just not published it? You could have hidden it or thrown it away?

Violet: No they should have recycled it!

Scoops: What if I recycled it and someone found it? Or what if I lost it and someone found it? it would spread like wildfire!

Becky: Okay, but why flush it down the toilet??? You could have shred it?

Violet: Or painted over it!

Becky: Or used one of Tobey's robots to destroy it

Violet: Or you guys could have thrown it in my fire pit when you came over next weekend to roast marshmallows!

Tobey and Scoops (realizing they're right): ...

Becky: And secondly (Looks to Violet as they both try to choke down a laugh) Mr. Smith and Mrs. Stevens are married

Scoops: I know, that's why I wrote an article on cheating Becky!

Violet: No, you guys, they're married to each other

Tobey and Scoops: ...What..??

Becky: Mrs. Stevens wanted to keep her last name so she never changed it

Violet: They've been happily married for twenty years

(Tobey and Scoops then realize they got detention for basically no reason at all as Becky and Violet burst out laughing):

Tobey: Oh yeah! And why are you two here, hmm? What bad thing could the two most rule-following students in the school have possibly done to end up in detention with us?

Becky and Violet (paniced): No reason

Scoops: No no no! We told you, now you gotta tell us! What'd you two do?

Violet: ....Well...Becky brought her laptop to school today so we could look at Pretty Princess fanart at lunch...

Scoops: At lunch? A teacher shouldn't give you detention for goofing off on a computer at lunch

Becky: Yeah the problem wasn't when we were looking at it...the problem was the particular fanart that just happened to be on the computer when the teacher passed by...

Tobey: ... What in the world kind of fanart were you two looking at?????

Becky: We were just looking at normal fanart! As it turns out some people one the internet are...messed up and we accidentally ran into some fanart that...um...

Violet: Will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life...

Becky: and was ultimately deemed "highly inappropriate" by the teacher...

(Tobey and Scoops then burst out laughing):

I'm gonna put some more scenarios under the cut!

Becky begged Tobey to read this amazing book she just loves:

Becky: Have you read it yet?! Wasn't it amazing?!

Tobey: ...Becky you are one of my dearest friends but I have to be honest with you-This was the worst book I have ever had the displeasure to read

Becky: (Yanks the book out of Tobey's hands and "covers it's ears") (Gasps) IT CAN HEAR YOU!!!

Tobey: ....please see a shrink...

Mrs. McCallister is finally ready for Tobey to meet her new boyfriend and Tobey is super nervous. Scoops gets this idea that he'll look up the guy in the phone book, call him, and pretend he's randomly interviewing people on the phone for a school article, when instead he's actually getting information Tobey needs to get to know the guy better so he knows what to expect (fun fact: this man would later become Tobey's stepdad, his name is Alex). Scoops has the phone on speaker so Tobey can hear

After a bunch of oddly specific questions:

Alex, on the other end: ...Are you a friend of Claire's boy, Tobey?

Scoops: ...

Alex: ...

Tobey: ...

Scoops: Bye! (hangs up in panic)

Tobey: SCOOPS!

Scoops: He was on to us! I panicked! What was I supposed to do???

Tobey: NOT THAT! YOU MAY AS WELL HAVE SAID YES!

Scoops wrote an article about WordGirl. He didn't see anything wrong with it...Becky did...

Becky: How could you say that about me!?

Scoops: I didn't think you'd care!

Becky: Well I do!

Scoops: I'm sorry, Becky. I didn't know you felt so insecure about this or I never would have written it, I promise!

Becky: Insecure! I am NOT insecure!

Scoops (raising an eyebrow): ... define insecure

Becky: ...

Scoops: ...

Becky: I'm leaving! (leaves)

Tobey is in the park reading, Violet is also at the park, doing an art show. She walks up to Tobey all sad and sits next to him

Violet: Hi..

Tobey: What's the matter?

Violet: Someone came to my art show and said he thought all my art was terrible...

Tobey: ...Who in the world would say such a thing???

Violet: That guy over there...

Tobey: You know he's probably just jealous of how talented you are and is masking his insecurities behind rude comments

Violet: ... You really think so?

Tobey: Oh yes, I used to do it all the time..I still catch myself doing it to be honest

Violet: Well now I feel bad for him..

Tobey: Well there's nothing you can do about him, so if I were you I'd just go and continue your art show like normal

Violet: You're right Tobey! Thanks! (leaves for her art show)

Tobey: (pulls out his remote) Insult my dear innocent friend? Not on my watch

Becky and Violet talking about Pretty Princess

Becky: I mean...I know none of it is canon but it's still a good idea right?

Violet: Becky! This is the best AU idea I've ever heard!

Becky: (gasps) I'll write fanfiction for it and you draw fanart for it?

Violet: YES!

Becky and Violet: (Excited screams)

Tobey, now officially having given up crime, is doing community service (of his own volition) to make up for his past actions. Becky, Scoops and Violet come up

Becky: How's community service going?

Tobey: It's awful! But I'm glad I'm doing it

Violet: Want some help?

Tobey: No, it wouldn't feel right

Scoops: Well, can we just sit here and keep you company then?

Tobey: ... Of course!

In high school, Violet got into acting and often performed in school plays. Her first play ever she invited all her friends to come see, and of course they were happy to watch her have fun on stage! However when they saw the play it was....horrendous. Worst thing they'd ever seen. After the play was over Violet happily came over to ask them what they thought of it. Important note: Violet and Scoops were dating at the time

Tobey, seeing Violet coming: What do I do??? I can't tell Violet it was terrible! It would break her heart! But I can't lie to her either! That's wrong!

Becky: Tobey, relax, just do what I do

Violet: Hey guys! What'd you think?

Becky: you looked like you were having so much fun!

Tobey and Scoops: Yeah you did!

Violet: I was! But what did you think of the play itself?

Becky: ...Well...honestly you guys mispronounced so many words I couldn't really enjoy it. I mean it's not your fault, no one uses those words anymore but you know...I know how they're pronounced and can't stand when words are pronounced wrong so...

Violet: Oh that makes sense! We'll work on that! Maybe you can tell me how to pronounce them!

Becky: Sure!

Violet: Tobey what did you think?

Tobey: Um...I wasn't really a fan of the genre so I probably didn't enjoy it as much as I could have

Violet: Oh, what kind of genres do you like?

Tobey: ....a consistent one...

Violet: (laughs) You're so silly Tobey! Scoops! What'd you think?

Scoops: ... Um... I loved it of course! I mean, you were in it! And I love you! So how could I not love it!

Becky, having learned from the WordGirl stuff, later told Violet the truth and explained that she didn't like the play at all and only liked that Violet seemed so happy doing it. Violet took this well. Tobey and Scoops however...:

Scoops: PROBLEM PROBLEM PROBLEM!

Tobey: What?

Scoops: The school paper wants me to review the school play! I can't say it was good, that goes against my oath as a reporter! But I can't say it was bad either, I already told Violet I loved it!

Tobey: Ask someone else to do it

Scoops: No one else has the time to take on any more assignments! What am I gonna do?! I don't wanna upset Violet!

Tobey: um...uh...could you post it anonymously?

Those actions eventually lead to Scoops and Violet breaking up (don't worry, they did get back together years later)

Scoops took his and Violet's break up particularly hard, and Tobey tried to cheer him up by finding weird things happening in the city for Scoops to write about. It didn't help a whole lot, but Scoops appreciated Tobey trying to cheer him up. Meanwhile Becky, who by this point all her friends knew she was WordGirl, essentially tried to fix Scoops and Violet's now ended relationship, and between trying to help them, school work, hero work and family life, she ended up stretching herself a little too thin to the point that all her friends had to do an intervention and tell her to stop because it wasn't good for her.

I've mentioned before that Becky's necklace in Word Up in significant and special to her. This necklace was actually made by Scoops, Violet and Tobey. Note the fact that her friends made it isn't the reason it's so important to her, but it is sweet they took the time to make it for her.

For one of his birthdays Tobey invited his friends to a demolition derby. When his friends said they thought it odd he'd be into that, he stated it was his new outlet for seeing destruction now that he was no longer doing crime.

Hmm that's all I have for now! If you are wanting more and have any particular questions or ideas, feel free to send more asks! If they are a little more specific I'll probably get to them a little sooner

[linkspooky]

I think it's safe to say that Bakugou also has ptsd.

Once again, I’m not going to diagnose Bakugo with anything. However, anon I will agree that Bakugo’s trauma from being kidnapped has been almost completely ignored by the adults around him. His trauma has included internalizing the idea that he’s a loser, and that it’s his fault that All Might fell. In some ways, Bakugo has been getting worse, and regressing ever since then due to his unaddressed trauma. Bakugo’s regression, and his unaddressed issues undert he cut and how DEEP DOWN he still believes himself to be weak.

1. Strong People Don’t Get Traumatized

One hundred chapters ago All Might brought to Aizawa’s attention that Bakugo blames himself for the loss of his power. Apparently, absolutely nothing was done about that between then and now, because Bakugo is still blaming himself for what happened to All Might. 

Part of Bakugos’ problem is his environment. He has a strong quirk, so people expect him to always be strong in every situation. People literally thought he would be just fine after being kidnapped because he was strong. Bakugo even expected that of himself. 

In fact, while he was kidnapped Bakugo even thought it was his job to fight back against his kidnappers and rescue himself. The expectation on Baugo to be strong pressures him so much, he can’t ever be scared, or even ask for help. 

Bakugo’s decision to fight Deku behind the school was him choosing to lash out again. He always lashes out, and beats up Deku when he gets tired of beating up himself. However, why do children choose to lash out? It’s because they have a problem that’s not getting addressed, and they want attention, and have no other way to express that need. A child who is not having their needs met emotionally, will sometimes lash out in anger to express the hurt they themselves are feeling. 

The adults around Bakugo don’t see him as a kid, and often neglect his needs because they see him as strong. All Might even admits to this, he forgot Bakugo was just a boy. Even though All Might is someone who knows that Bakugo is someone who can be delicate and emotionally fragile too. In fact All Might has seen Bakugo break down over the tiniest things. 

The reason Bakugo breaks down over the tiniest things, the reason why Bakugo blames himself for everything is because deep down all along while everyone around him has constantly told him how strong he was and treated him like a strong person, he’s always believed himself to be weak.

People look at Bakugo and only see his strength. They don’t see Bakugo himself. Even Deku does this. Deku’s admiration of Bakugo is based entirely off of his quirk, and not his behavior or who he is as a person. 

That’s also why Deku and Bakugo’s relationship is sort of something that falls apart at both ends. Bakugo always sees Deku as the weak one, without really understanding who he is as a person. Deku always sees Bakugo as the strong one without understanding who he is as a person. That’s why they fail to understand each other, and often end up aggravating each other and making the worst out of each other. 

Either way, Bakugo feels internally weak. When everyone else is telling him how strong he is, he feels weak, and therefore feels the need to hide his weakness. He feels like his strength is just a lie. That’s why he’s constantly trying to prove his own strength. Trauma from being kidnapped has only made this behavior worse in many ways. It’s because it’s made him internalize the idea deep down that getting kidnapped was his fault, and if he had been stronger he never would have been kidnapped in the first place. 

The fight with Deku has kickstarted Bakugo’s self reflection in a way, but rather than progressing since then in some ways he’s stagnated and gotten worse due to this unaddressed trauma. The root of the problem is this need to be stronger at all times, like that will fix the internal issues inside of him. What Bakugo wants is to be weak, and to have people accept him when he’s weak. However, the adults around him just constantly tell him to get stronger like that will fix the problem and that just makes Bakugo worse. 

2. Bakugo’s Regression

Bakugo since then has really only focused on trying to get stronger, without trying to sort out the root of the issue which is what led him to bully Deku. 

Which is why Bakugo, surprise, surprise, still snaps at Deku, argues with him, screams at him, every chance he gets. Bakugo and Deku can’t get along with each other because they don’t see each other. Bakugo always has to be the strong one, and Deku always has to be the weak one. In order to get along they have to start stepping out of those roles, but neither of them really have. 

As I’ve said, Bakugo’s problem is he’s constantly fighting against his own interanlized feelings of weakness and trying to prove himself stronger than how weak he feels. He’s still fighting against those feelings. 

Bakugo thinks he has to throw himself into another dangerous situation, to prove to himself that he’s stronger then back then. One symptom of having trauma is trying to correct the trauma. If only I had been stronger back then. If only I hadn’t been weak. Then the traumatic thing would never have happened. 

Bakugo is self-harming here. Intentionally throwing yourself into a risky situation is self-harming behavior. He’s doing it to punish himself, because he still blames himself for what happened with All Might. Which means ever since the fight with Deku he’s still blaming himself for what happened with All Might, and still punishing himself over and over and over. 

Which means Bakugo still hasn’t learned a healthy outlet for his emotions, because he’s still caught up in trying to fight and be stronger than his trauma. As I said before, Bakugo’s bullying is a pattern of behavior, he accumulates stress, and then targets Deku as the “weak one” because he’s unable to deal with that weakness in himself. And Bakugo is... still unable to deal with weakness, or see himself as weak. 

Bakugo is still constantly comparing himself to Deku. He still sees being worse than or losing to Deku as the worst thing in the entire world, because in his mind he always has to be the strong one. 

What Bakugo needs to learn is that losing is okay, but he’s not learning that. Instead, we’re seeing him intentionally throw himself into danger. 

Bakugo still can’t really be near Deku either, because it makes him feel inferior. 

The things Bakugo needs to address story wise is this burden on him to always be the strongest, to never leave, and also the realization that his violent nature can hurt people. Like. That’s the comparison with Endeavor. 

I mean Bakugo has at least recognized the pattern of behavior. He knows he bullies Bakugo because he can’t face his own weakness. But he doesn’t really know how to stop himself. Because, Bakugo just can’t see that he’s allowed to be weak sometimes. He doesn’t have to continually push himself to be strong in every single situation. His obsession with strength is unhealthy and ultimately hurts him more than it helps. 

Not whatever All Might says. The comparison with Endeavor is that both Bakugo and Endeavor could not face the weakness within themselves, because they were so obsessed with this idea of having to be the strongest, that they took it out on someone else. Bakugo took it out on Deku. Endeavor took it out on his own family. 

Even when they learned to self reflect and look at the weakness inside of themselves and think critically about their actions, they don’t really see that part of the problem is this need they have to always be strong in every situation. That this violent part of them is really, really unheroic. 

Deep down, the root of the issue is they both need to let go of this idea of being the strongest, because it’s what led them to hurt others in the first place. However, rather than addressing the actual issue, Bakugo and Endeavor are both just trying to be stronger which is the same thing they’ve always done. They may have gained self reflection, but it still hasn’t materialized in any change in the way Bakugo treats Deku (constantly bickering with him, can’t stand to be in the same room for more than five minutes, yelling that he’s always going to be better) and the way Enji treats Shoto (trying to monopolize him, giving him all of his attention, still acting like Shoto has to become his legacy) and that’s why both of them regress.