#so obviously. post drowning but probably not realized by others until later

[feardrummed]

actually got thinking about superpowered ollie again. yea would go for like. commune with the dead stuff because yeah the idea of her seeing the Ghosts fucks me up. maybe something else death related paired with it? idk

'oh is it going to be remnant experimentation related' no solely because i think it's funny if it isnt. what if your dad was obsessed with death and running experiments to fuck with death and you just Fuck With Death Naturally. it also has the potential to be devastating in the wrong william's hands. which we all know 'funny yet devastating' is my shit lmao

but also this just confirms ollie is a kl.aus ha.rgre.eves variant

[adarkrainbow]

This is actually truly my LAST LAST "Hansel and Gretel" post for now - at least until people start throwing me more questions and thought-food to nibble upon.

But one thing that one must keep an eye out for in the variations of Hansel and Gretel (and thus the adaptations), is the power dynamic and the relationship between the two siblings.

Because it is no secret that in the brothers Grimm fairytale, there is a balance between the siblings related to how they save each other. Hansel is the "hero" of the first part of the tale, as he is the one who invents ways for them to return to their house and thus saves his helpless, clueless sister - though he himself is shown to also have limited planning skills when his bread plan fails. In the second part, it is Gretel who has to save her locked-up brother, and it is her that does the decisive action of pushing the witch into the oven. In both situations, one sibling perceives the other as their savior - Hansel saves Gretel from being lost in the woods and devoured by wolves ; Gretel saves Hansel from being devoured by the witch (though she also saves herself in the process since the witch was trying to kill her - in fact maybe one could argue that Gretel only started taking offensive action and survival decisions when her own life was directly threatened). The scene of the duck added later by the Grimms served to highlight the reversal of situation - since in it, it is GRETEL who is the clever one and has planning skills, since she sees that if she had done as Hansel told her, sitting on the duck with him, the beast would have drowned, and them with it. This perfects her role as a savior, and how she became her brother in a way.

If we take the variations I already made posts about, we can see how this dynamic changes.

Take "The Cabin with the Cheese Roof". In it, the brother is explicitely told to be very intelligent, and the sister very stupid. It is the boy who invents the trick to steal the cheeses on the witch's roof - and it is the girl that blows it up by speaking when she shouldn't have. The sister answers honestly to the witch's question, ensuring herself a nasty death and then a nasty diet - it is the brother who is sharp-witted enough to realize he can trick the witch into sparing them and giving them good things to eat. The little girl wants to give her finger to the witch when she asks so ; the boy invents the stick-trick. And when the witch wants to get the children into the oven, it is the boy again who saves the day and kills the witch. In this story, the boy is the sole hero - he is the embodiment of intelligence, he does everything to save his sister, who herself is a counterpart and counter-example, embodying stupidity. In fact it is almost as humoristic take on the story, as the girl literaly does everything that is obviously bad for her, only for her brother to just rush in and having to invent crazy excuses each time. For example the "How does your mother kills her pigs?" scene - though this scene also shows the limitations of the boy, who despite his intelligence and wit, stays a child and betrays his deception upon answering when he is supposed to be dad. But here there is a massive unabalance in the siblings - or rather a balance, but formed by "good example vs bad example", "what to do vs what not to do", "survival instinct vs zero awareness".

In "The Lost Children", it is Jeanette the sister who immediately takes the decisions when the siblings get lost and tells her brother to climb a tree to save themselves - which is the good move. But she immediately makes a mistake dooming them by selecting the red house, the "prettiest" (probably some good ol' fashion "girls are vain" misogyny here). It is later Jeanette who also saves her brother's skin by inventing the "rat tail" trick. Finally it is Jeanette that tricks the devil's wife into being tied up - though it is Jean that kills her. But the key point here is that we have a reversal of "The Cabin with the Cheese Roof" - here it is the sister who is the leader, the decision-maker and the clever one. She is the hero of the tale, whereas Jean is a secondary and flat character with no personality. All of his actions are mere continuations of his sisters' plans and will: he clibs a tree, but because she told him too and encourages him to continue ; he kills the devil's wife, but only after everything was set up by Jeanette. And even then, his action seems to be mostly just an ironic reversal. Up until this point, Jean was the one treated like a pig - put in a pig stable, and fattened up to be eaten. Only for him to kill the wife of the devil in the same way he was to be killed - in the same way pigs are killed by peasants - tied up, their neck cut and bled to death.

In "Old Grule", once again Gretel is the only true character - she urges Hans to climb a tree, she invents the rhyme that tricks the witch into leeting them eat her roof in peace, she invents the trick of giving a string instead of her finger, she is the one that notices the oven doesn't have plums in it... We have a situation almost identical to the one of "The Lost Children", with Gretel doing eveything and Hans merely following (though in this scenario both Hans and Gretel are locked up in a cage and fattened up - which is a quite rare situation as usually the female sibling is kept as a servant outside of the cage, and only the male sibling is locked up and fattened).

Finally, in Jacobs reconstruction "Johnnie and Grizzle", Jacobs takes back the "Hansel and Gretel" dynamic, but adds the "dumb little sister" motif found in tales such as "The Cabin with a Cheese Roof". Just like in the Grimm tale, it is Johnnie that finds ways for them to return home - but Grizzle with her either stupidity or innocence) blows everything up by accidentally letting out her brother's secret to their parents. All throughout the first part of the story all Grizzle od is cry and be scared, and it is Johnnie who handles things - when there is a dialogue with the witch, it is Johnnie who talks to her. And then, even when Johnnie is locked up, a greater emphasis is put on him than usual, with great details given about how Johnnie invents the "stick trick" and hs interactions with the witch and how he caused his own downfall by a mistake. When the "oven" part arrives, Jacobs plays with our expectation - as Grizzle first kindly obeys, then tells the witch she doesn't know anything, it seems to be part of her earlier character. She was the innocent, clueless, crying, docile, helpless little girl - protected by her intelligent brother. So the fact she pushes the witch into the oven is even more shocking as the reader is suddenly and brutally informed that Grizzle has some intelligence in her, and planned carefully the witch's execution. It is even more brutal given the fact that unlike in "Hansel and Gretel", where Gretel understood the witch was trying to kill her, here the witch never intended to harm Grizzle in any way. She REALLY wanted the oven to be hot just for Johnnie and no one else.

[In fact, it is another Hansel and Gretel trait that is interesting and deserve examination through alternate versions of the tale - the brothers Grimm selected a tradition in which the witch was fooled by Hansel all the way until the end, and believing the boy to be skinny, decided to eat both him and his sister to make a decent meal. But in several other stories, such as the Johnnie and Grizzle variant, the sister stays safe and it all comes to the witch discovering the trick and finding out that the male sibling is fat enough to be eaten.]

And the reversal of the roles continues within the story, as it is Grizzle who spots the duck in the stream and convinces it, with her rhymes, to carry them over the water - effectively saving her brother the save way he saved her in the forest with his bright pebbles.

[yankpop]

Yandere BTS: You ignore a call from him (Hyung Line)

All copyrights belong to @yankpop (aka me) so do not post/translate my works on any other platforms without my consent/knowledge.

Check more: Masterlist.

WARNINGS: Mention of violence, stalking, some hacking.

AN: Probably only going to be a hyung line thing. Not sure if i'm gonna post stuff on January cause of college, but i'll try to find some time. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy it 💖

Jin

- Established relation

Jin couldn’t believe you would ignore a call from him.

From your own boyfriend. Caring and loving boyfriend, he must say (at least most times, excluding some occasions).

You should be grateful that he loves and cares about you, any other man would never love you as much as he does. It makes his blood boil of anger when you decline his call, if anything it should be you the one calling him and not the other way around.

You’re the one who needs him, not the other way around, obviously. Just because he loves you so much doesn’t mean you get to just ignore him like he’s no one.

Jin makes a promise to himself that when he’s home he’s going to set your bratty attitude away and make sure that next time you pick up the phone the second he calls.

“So now you think you don’t need me, is that so? Spoiled brat, I give you all my love and in return you can’t even pick up a call? You better apologize or you won’t like the consequences”

Suga

- Beginning of the relation

At first Yoongi didn’t think much of it. He shrugged it off by assuming you were busy with college/work and that it wasn’t a big deal, since sometimes he also misses some calls from you.

However, his mood quickly turns sour when 5/10 minutes later he rings you again, yet there’s no answer.

The rapper tries to keep working on the lyrics of a new song, but the fact you ignored his calls on purpose was getting under his skin, making him more and more cranky and edgy.

Yoongi tries to drown on his work, but his eyes inadvertently keep checking his phone screen, secretly hoping for a notification, and every time he’s met with a pitch black screen he gets pissed off for doing that to himself yet he can’t stop thinking about all the possibilities.

There is a way for him to know what’s going on and although he promised to himself that he would keep this to a bare minimum and only in extreme situations, his anxiety takes the best of him.

He quickly opens the app on his phone, browsing the options he has and swiftly deciding that the audio would do the job and accesses the microphone of your phone. The sound volume is set almost on the maximum, while he tries to decipher what is going on around you.

Your voice is the only thing sound in the audio and looks like you’re discussing some details with your colleagues about your work/college.

A relieved sigh leaves his lips as he realizes you were just busy with your work and nothing else was going on. Nonetheless he’s glad he did what he did.

“You were busy with work? Oh, no, no, it’s okay, really, I didn't mind. I was busy anyways.”

JHope

- Beginning of the relation

Very clingy boy. He knows you are going to hang out with a friend however he can’t stop himself from calling every 5 minutes - just to make sure you’re okay and everything is alright. So, obviously it shouldn’t be a shock when you started to decline his calls in order to have some peace with your friend.

But he gets even more worried, both phone calls and text messages start flooding your inbox, so you turn off the phone hoping he would get the idea.

You usually thought it was adorable he would call so often to check up with you, but it was getting exhausting when you just wanted to relax and have fun with your friend.

This only makes Hoseok even more paranoid until he impulsively decides to go check on you at the cafe you told him you would be meeting your friend.

He told himself he would only take a peek, 5 minutes tops, but as soon the man sets his eyes on you laughing your heart out he just can’t pull away his eyes from you, completely drowned by the marvelous sight. Hoseok tries not to drag too much attention over him as he watches you from the opposite street and as soon as you leave, he runs back home.

When you get home he’s going to apologize over and over again, blaming it on his passionate love for you and making it up by cooking dinner and watching a movie, which soothes your annoyance away.

“I’m truly sorry, sunshine, please, please, forgive me. I was just worried, and you weren’t even answering my calls. I’ll do better next time, I promise.” (Spoiler: no, he won’t)

RM

- Established relation

He’s always, and I mean always, on the phone with you, that’s his way of keeping in contact with you while you’re in college/work. And you always try your best to stay in touch with your boyfriend, knowing he always assumes the worst things happening to you if you don’t answer back.

You always text him when you get home, if you’re going to study at the library, when you’re going to eat, what you’re to eat - the more information the better.

So, when your phone decides to rebel up and die in the morning while you have no power bank or even a charger, you low-key freak out knowing you had no way to contact your boyfriend.

Meanwhile your boyfriend gets perplexed and confused with your lack of response to the point that he accesses your tracking app only to be struck with the unexpected message “The phone has been switched off”, which makes him turn onto the next thing.

The beautiful pendant he gifted you on your birthday and that he made you promise you to never take it off, no matter what. It wasn’t only the glamour of the pendent that attracted him, but also the functional benefit since it contained an ingrained GPS locator.

He has no choice but to keep an eye in your location, constantly checking. Namjoon is a smart man, so he thinks of many possibilities and explanations that could justify your actions knowing something must’ve happened to your phone but part of him is still cautious and suspicious, so he does check your bank account and the house cameras, which doesn’t show any strange activity.

Since he knows your schedule down to the last detail, Namjoon is probably going to pick you up and when he finds out what happened, he’s gonna be more relieved but still gives you a major speech.

“I’ve told you a million times that you can’t be so damn reckless, you need to start using that brain of yours if you even have some left. Do you even know how worried I was? I don’t care if it was the phone’s fault, I expected more from you. I’m so disappointed."

[jikookiekosmos]

When I Dream of You || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, husband!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: Jungkook always imagined being with you was like a dream come true, and after years of pining he can finally say it’s all he could have ever hoped for and more. But what happens now when Jungkook’s dreams about you no longer have a happy ending?

➥Genre: established relationship, (somewhat?) heavy angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~6.2k (little much for a drabble i know, sorry)

➥Content warnings: story mostly told from jungkook’s POV, jungkook has a nightmare, feelings of insecurity and anxiety, mentions of harassment (not much), yoongi to the rescue (seriously he’s the voice of reason i love him), making out, grinding, slight hair pulling, riding on top, reader is in control (and jk is happy about it), unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), cumming inside, cute times in the shower, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! Their relationship will make a lot more sense though if you’ve read OFY beforehand. This fic takes place roughly around a year after the events of OFY. (I also mentioned this in the post for OFY but for those who haven’t read it, the Kun in the story isn’t referring to any other irl person specifically, it was just a name I chose to make the initial story easier to write.)

As always, thank you to @dntaewithluv​ for being so supportive of me and motivating me to keep writing when there are times I feel like I shouldn’t. And for also being my beta-reader and just generally an amazing person, one of the best friends I could ever ask for.

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait - ~6 months after OFY

Stay With Me - a few months after this dream drabble

I know this is the most angsty thing I’ve written so far (update: Stay With Me now holds this title), but I got attached to these characters and wanted to tell more of their story so here we are. I basically wrote this all in one sitting because I’ve had this idea in my head for a little while and I was excited to get it out. I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn​​

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Jungkook was dreaming again.

It was a dream he’d had many times now, and it always started the same way. He watched as you appeared in the doorway of the chapel, ready to make your trek down the aisle.

You looked dazzling in your dress, and through the thin veil that covered your face, Jungkook could see the brilliant smile you wore, which caused him to break out into one of his own. Each step that brought you closer to him made his heart race faster, and it didn’t take long for you to finally be in front of him.

Well…somewhat in front of him.

He could only watch as at the last second, you turned slightly and were now standing in front of Kun, the man you were originally meant to marry. Jungkook’s stomach twisted with fear as he observed Kun lift your veil over your head and take your hands in his as you both stared into each other’s eyes. You, looking at Kun with all the love in the world, because that’s just how you were. And Kun, looking back at you, with a sinister expression that made Jungkook feel dizzy.

He opened his mouth to object, to speak, to do something but no sound would come out. Everyone around him that had gathered to see you get married were either oblivious to Jungkook’s obvious distress, or they just didn’t care.

They weren’t here for him, after all. They were here for you, in the same way that he was here for you, too.

When his legs could finally move without crumpling underneath him, he walked over to stand next to you and Kun as he tried to reach out to you. He couldn’t touch you, though, because it was like there was an invisible wall in between the two of you now. A wall he could still see through but couldn’t reach past. He moved back at the realization, only to be met with something similar hitting his back.

Jungkook whirled around and was met with the same thing, now surrounding him on all sides, trapping him inside some sort of box. A box where he could still see what was happening but couldn’t stop it despite what he did. He felt suffocated.

He was shouting from inside his new prison, banging on the walls, trying to make any sort of sound that would reach you. And he knew you couldn’t hear him; you didn’t spare even one glance his way. But he still had to try. The longer he let this go on, the greater the chance of losing you grew to be.

And the possibility of that, of losing you in any capacity, was something he couldn’t bear to even think about.

Jungkook could hear everything coming from your mouth. The cheerfulness in your voice was usually something he loved to hear under any given circumstance. But in this case, it was threatening to tear him apart. He listened dismally as the two of you started reciting your vows to each other.

And his heart started to break when he heard the words from the letter he’d tried to give you all those years ago. Tears were forming in his vision as he listened to Kun rattle off the words he’d written for you. Words he never got to claim as his own until much later, when it was almost too late.

He could feel his heart shatter at the sight of the breathtaking smile on your face as you two finished your vows, moving now to kiss each other and seal the deal.

He tried once more to call out to you, but any sound he could’ve possibly made would’ve been immediately drowned out by the cheering from everyone around you.

His legs gave out as he knelt down to the floor, helplessly staring at you as you linked your arm with Kun’s to walk back down the aisle as a newly married couple. It took the last bit of his strength to look up as you passed, and you didn’t notice him.

But Kun did.

Kun paused in front of Jungkook, still separated by that invisible wall, and he grinned. It was the kind of grin you’d expect from someone who’s sole purpose in life was to sabotage others’ happiness. Which, ironically enough, is exactly what Kun was now known for.

All Jungkook could do was look on while you left the chapel, followed by the many guests who had gathered for the ceremony. Only when everyone was gone was he able to move about freely, but he opted to remain seated on the floor there instead as the chapel slowly started to fill with darkness once the doors closed.

Jungkook awoke with a start, bolting upright and inhaling a sharp intake of air. He was covered in sweat that dampened his hair and made it stick to his forehead. His breathing was shallow, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was.

He was at home, in his bed. It was nighttime and sleeping next to him was a figure who’d remained undisturbed by his sudden movement.

He cautiously looked over at your sleeping form. You were turned on your side, facing away from him, breathing peacefully. His eyes softened at the sight and he could feel his heartbeat start to slow down into a pace much less frantic.

He pushed his hair out of his face as he took a deep breath. He knew he should probably wake you, especially since you always told him to do so whenever he had nightmares. Lately, he hadn’t been having any bad dreams, so it had been a while since he last had to rouse you from your slumber.

He reached an arm out, only for it to gently fall by his side. He hated waking you unless it was really important, because he knew you sometimes had trouble sleeping, and this included falling back asleep if something made you wake up during the middle of the night. You’d been especially exhausted lately, what with the new exciting event that had suddenly happened in both of your lives.

Well, exciting wasn’t really the right word. Terrifying fit way better.

After managing to avoid Kun for over an entire year, he somehow turned up at your new place of employment one day, surprising you and frightening you all at the same time. He told the staff at the front desk that he was an ‘old friend, here to congratulate you on your new position.’ And they believed it, so they let him come up to your office unsupervised.

Let’s just say when Jungkook heard about that little ordeal, he was not pleased at all.

Ever since then, Kun had been borderline harassing you, even sometimes going as far as to try and talk to Jungkook during his shifts at the bar. That lasted for all of maybe 2 encounters before Kun found himself banned and unable to return.

You both thought he was out of your life for good after the break-up, but he was proving to be much more of a plague than you or Jungkook initially imagined. So yes, these recent events had maybe been causing Jungkook to have intrusive thoughts once again that translated themselves into the one recurring nightmare he used to have shortly after the two of you got together.

The nightmare of him losing you. You obviously didn’t end up marrying Kun, but you came a lot closer to it than Jungkook liked. And that wasn’t because he’d been pining after you for years; he could’ve dealt with that, if it ended with you being happy. It was more so the reason that your relationship with Kun hadn’t seemed genuine on his end, and Jungkook wanted better for you than that.

Sometimes he wondered if he was the right one to give you what you deserved.

He shook his head to keep more thoughts from seeping in, but he knew sitting here alone in the dark wouldn’t help with that for long. He glanced at the time on his phone. It was 2:08 A.M., so not too late, but most people were usually sleeping at that time.

Nonetheless, Jungkook pulled back the covers and swung his feet over the side of the bed to stand up. He moved as gently as possibly to not risk waking you, but on his way to the bathroom he had to pass by your side of the bed.

Your sleeping face was free of worry, and your lips were slightly parted as you were breathing softly. The sight made Jungkook’s heart thump. He couldn’t help himself when he leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

If you woke up, he’d just tell you he had to use the restroom and try to coax you back to sleep. You looked too cute for him not to kiss you, though, so he deduced it was worth the risk.

He padded off to the bathroom then, only wearing a pair of gym shorts. Every step he took was calculated so he didn’t make much noise, and when he finally made it to the bathroom, he closed the door as quietly as possible, listening to the faint click before he leaned against the sink.

He sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. After dialing the number, he put the phone to his ear, and within 2 rings someone picked up.

“Kook? You ok?”

Jungkook smiled. “Yeah, Yoongs, I’m ok. Just needed to talk to someone, that’s all.”

He heard shuffling from the end of the line and he felt a small pang of guilt at the fact that he may have woken his friend up. But then again, it was Yoongi, and he wasn’t a stranger to being up at this hour.

Yoongi hummed. “Y/N not awake then, huh?”

Jungkook shook his head, despite Yoongi not being able to see him. Yoongi took his silence as confirmation.

“Hm, well you do know I love talking to you, but I am wondering why this time of night?”

Jungkook sighed. Better to get it over with than beat around the bush. “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh no,” he could hear the somberness of Yoongi’s tone. “Is it the same one, or…”

“Same one,” Jungkook answered without hesitation.

“Kook, we’ve been over this-”

“I know,” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “I know. Trust me, I don’t want to keep having this happen either.”

“Can you think of anything that may have triggered it?”

Jungkook tongued his cheek then. The more he thought about it, the only thing he could see as being a potential trigger for these dreams to come flooding back would be Kun’s unwanted reappearance.

While he was still thinking, Yoongi continued.

“Do you think it has anything to do with that asshole showing up again?”

Jungkook smirked. He knew how much disdain Yoongi had for Kun, and for good reason.

“Yeah, it’s exactly that, I’m almost positive.”

It sounded like Yoongi was moving again and Jungkook could just picture him now, sitting up and shaking his head in disappointment, not at Jungkook, but at the situation.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna level with you.”

Jungkook gulped.

“I honestly have no idea why you’re letting someone like that affect you. He’s not worth your time, he’s not worth Y/N’s time, not worth anyone’s time if you ask me. Letting him continue to have this kind of effect on you isn’t healthy.”

Jungkook sighed again, his breath coming out somewhat shaky. “I know, it’s just…it’s hard. It’s really hard, Yoongs. I can’t help but think of how close I came to losing her and fuck it hurts every time I think about it.”

“First of all, you wouldn’t have lost her, and you know that-”

“Yeah but seeing him is a reminder that I came close.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi’s tone was stern now, and Jungkook immediately stopped talking.

Yoongi took a deep breath. “Like I was saying, you wouldn’t have lost her. You mean too much to her and she means too much to you for either of you to have let that happen. Give her a little more credit, yeah?”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s lips curved upwards into a smile. He knows you’d never allow anything to take you away from him, outside of maybe some things beyond both of your control. But you certainly would never let someone come in between the friendship you both shared.

A friendship that had developed over several years and had now blossomed into a beautiful, loving partnership.

There it was again: you. Anytime Jungkook thought about you, it always made him happy. He was so in love with you and had been for so many years, so it was sometimes still surreal to him that you two were together now. Your smiling face was all he needed to get him through some days.

But right now the vision of you playing out in his head was the sight of you the night he found you in your house kneeling on the floor after Kun broke your marriage off. You looked so utterly broken, and Jungkook made a promise to himself then and there that he’d do anything in his power to make it so you never felt that way again.

“Kook? You still with me there?”

Yoongi’s voice roused Jungkook out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. You know I worry about you, kid.”

Jungkook smiled. “I know.”

“This is the first time you’ve had this dream in a while, right?”

Jungkook leaned against the sink again, looking at the tiled floor underneath his feet. “Yeah, it’s been months.”

“Then I want you to do something for me, ok?”

Confused, but intrigued, Jungkook shook his head. “Yeah, sure.”

“I want you to take a look at your left hand.”

Jungkook did as he was told, splaying his fingers out in front of him.

“Now tell me what you see?”

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at his gold wedding band as it glistened faintly in the light of the room.

“My wedding ring,” he answered softly.

“Exactly. Your wedding ring. It belongs to you. And it means you’re the one who’s married to her. Not him, not anyone else, but you.”

Jungkook could see exactly where Yoongi was going with this, and the thought made him almost tear up. Yoongi knew exactly what to say and when to say it whenever Jungkook needed reassurance about something, and this was one of those times.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna tell you this, and it’s something I want you to remember. Y/N loves you. She loves you so much. My God, sometimes it’s hard to look at you two because you’re always so lovey dovey like-”

Jungkook laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

He could imagine Yoongi smiling on the other end. “Good. I think as long as you remember that, you’ll be ok. It’d probably still help to talk to her, though. You know how upset she’d be if she knew you were suffering in silence about your dreams again.”

Jungkook shakily inhaled, his grip on the sink behind him tightening. “I know. I’ll talk to her, probably in the morning since she’s still asleep-”

Jungkook cut himself off when he heard the soft sound of you calling his name. “Yoongs, I gotta go, thank you for answering and for everything else.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Anytime. Night, Kook.”

Jungkook hung up the phone and peered from behind the bathroom door. He saw you sitting up in the bed now, rubbing your eyes before you stretched. He was so fond of you, the sight made his heart swell.

He also noticed how the t-shirt you were wearing had ridden up some during your stretch and he could see the exposed skin of your thighs now now. He even thought that something as simple as you wearing a t-shirt was breathtaking. And when it was one of his t-shirts, like it was now – on some days it was enough to drive him crazy.

Now wasn’t the time for that though. He watched lovingly as you focused your eyes on him and smiled. He wasted no time getting back in the bed with you, seated with one leg crossed under him, his hand coming down to rest on top of your own.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a lazy kiss. Jungkook melted into the kiss when you deepened it, because after everything he just went through, any touch from you now was igniting all his feelings for you.

All of them, which is why he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours.

“Hey,” he said with a smile, nuzzling his nose against yours before pulling away to look at you. He could tell you were still sleepy, but you wouldn’t attempt to go back to sleep without talking first. Especially since he knew you could tell something might be off.

Your brows furrowed. “Koo? What’s wrong?”

Jungkook took a deep breath, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I had another nightmare.”

The immediate look of concern on your face made his heart lurch, and not in a pleasant way. “Baby, what happened?”

He brought up your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles, right above your ring.

“I had that nightmare. You know the one…”

You frowned. “Jungkook-”

“But it’s ok, really. I talked to Yoongi and I feel a little better.” He was looking anywhere but your face now, so you placed a hand under his chin, tilting it up so he’d look at you.

“You know you can always wake me up and talk to me.” You brushed your thumb across one of his cheekbones and he sighed into the touch.

“I know. You’ve been having trouble sleeping lately so I-”

“You also know that if I have trouble sleeping, usually cuddling with you helps. So please don’t use that as an excuse.”

Jungkook felt guilty again because he knew you were right. Before he came along, sleeping wasn’t always easy for you, but in the comfort of his arms, you found slumber much faster these days.

You took Jungkook’s face in both of your hands, your own chest twisting with pain at the sight of him. His big, doe-like eyes were shining with so much emotion, and all you wanted to do was take away all his worries.

“Do you know why you had that dream again?”

Jungkook nodded, absentmindedly brushing his thumb along your thigh. “Everything that’s happened with Kun lately, it- I don’t know, it just bothers me. It bothers me way more than it should. And I guess it just made me think again about- well, you know.”

Jungkook’s head hung then, and you leaned down so you could look into his eyes once more. He brought his head up to keep you from having to lean uncomfortably like that for too long.

“Koo,” you brushed a piece of his long, dark curly locks out of his face. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I know that things happened in the past that we can’t erase or change, but what we can do is focus on our future. Our future that we’re building together.”

He started to smile at your words, his heart lurching again now, but in a good way this time. Every time you told him you were in love with him, he felt like he could conquer the world.

“So please don’t worry about what almost happened or what could’ve been, because what matters is we’re here now. We’re here together. And I don’t plan on going anywhere,” you placed a quick peck on his lips, “Unless you want me to, that is.”

Jungkook quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you so you were straddling his lap, making you giggle as you tried to steady yourself. His hands rested comfortably against your waist and you placed yours on his shoulders. He looked up at you now with so much love and adoration.

“Never. I’m not planning on ever letting you go,” he accentuated his words with his grip around you by wrapping his arms more tightly around your waist to pull you closer to his chest. “Not until the day you decide you don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Well I don’t see that ever happening, so I guess we have nothing to worry about then, do we?” You booped his nose and he grinned, placing a hand on the back of your head to bring your lips down to meet his once more. The kiss was soft, yet passionate.

And it quickly turned into something more.

You deepened the kiss and Jungkook groaned into it, kissing you back now with a fervor that had you unconsciously moving your hips against him. He broke the kiss to lean his head back against the headboard, eyes shut and mouth parted.

“Fuck,” Jungkook panted. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Y/N. And right now,” he opened his eyes to stare at you again, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

His hand snaked underneath your t-shirt to brush at the skin he found there, pulling your head back down for another kiss.

“I want to show you how much I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Will you let me?”

The sound of his voice shot straight to your core, and you were nodding before he could even finish his question. He chuckled against your lips before he started trailing them down your neck.

“Need to hear you say it, baby,” he spoke as his lips ghosted over your throat, his hold on you tightening.

“Please,” you breathed out, pulling at his dark tresses and making him grunt. “Please, Koo. I want you to make love to me.”

That was all he needed. Jungkook started placing kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone that was exposed from the collar of his shirt, his fists clenching around the material at the bottom of it.

“I love you,” he kept saying in between kisses. “Gonna take care of you.”

He started tugging your shirt up and you met him halfway, ridding yourself of the garment fast enough that it made him chuckle at your eagerness. He started peppering kisses all over your chest, kneading at your breasts, rolling your nipples in between your fingers and making your hips move faster.

You could feel him growing harder underneath you through the thin fabric of the shorts he was still wearing, so you sped up your movements, making him moan.

“These need to come off, don’t you think, baby?” You tugged at his shorts. Another moan came from Jungkook as he nodded, helping you move up so he could shimmy out of his shorts. He still didn’t think he could ever get used to that pet name coming from you, and he thought it was the sexiest thing ever when it fell from your lips.

Of course, Jungkook thought nearly everything you did was sexy. That was just the effect you had on him. Everything intimate was intense in the best way possible, and if this was what being in love felt like, he never wanted to stop being in love with you.

He loved you. He needed you. He wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. And he’d never felt this way about anyone else for.

He felt all of these things for you. Only for you.

Jungkook was pulled out of his thoughts of how much he loved you by the feeling of you grinding down onto him again, this time the only barrier of clothing between the two of you being your own panties.

Yeah, Jungkook wasn’t having that.

He made quick work of removing your soaked panties, laughing again at your enthusiastic impatience. He loved seeing that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

“Be careful, angel,” He cooed at you as you tried to steady yourself on his lap once more. He rubbed his hands up and down your thighs while you huffed, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Just wanna feel you already,” you said breathily, and the sound of your voice mixed with the words that fell from your mouth made him twitch. He knew he probably wouldn’t last long inside of you, and with the way you were already worked up, he figured you might not either.

But tonight wasn’t one of those nights where he planned on going for hours anyway (even though you both definitely could at times and boy did he love it when that happened). No, tonight was about him proving to you how much he loved you, telling you through his words and soft caresses and the way he took care of you.

And you did the same for him. Jungkook had never had anyone care about him before the way that you do. He knew you’d do anything to ensure his happiness, the same as he would for you.

And that’s also why he thought you were destined to be together. And he hoped he would never fuck that up, that anything would ever fuck that up.

Jungkook heard you whine from your place in his lap, still grinding against him to find some much-needed friction. You felt so good on top of him that he let himself enjoy it for a few moments, soft moans escaping his lips as he watched you through half-lidded eyes. You leaned down to give him another kiss, and in the same movement, he picked you up by your thighs under your ass and placed you back down where his tip was at your entrance.

He grunted against your lips as he felt you sink down onto him, waiting for you to accommodate to the stretch as you’d done many times before. You always told him you could handle it and sometimes you wanted him to be a little rougher with you from the get-go. Jungkook wasn’t at that level where he was comfortable with that yet.

But one day, he thought, especially with how good you feel around him, he just might be.

When he was finally completely inside of you, he waited just enjoying the feel of your warmth around his length. He brushed some hair out of your face, noticing how your eyes were glinting in the faint light of the room.

God, he could never get enough of staring into your eyes. He’d happily get lost in them over and over again.

Now, though, they were starting to close as you picked yourself only to drop down again a moment later. The action caused Jungkook to let out a throaty moan, eyes fluttering closed at the motion.

Hm. That was new.

Usually, Jungkook would guide you with his hands on your hips, and it wasn’t that he didn’t let you have control, it was more that you never really wanted to take control. So, seeing you decide to do it now was exciting and something he’d gladly let happen if that’s what you wanted.

To be sure though, he placed his hands on your waist. You placed yours on top of his and shook your head.

“Let me take the lead,” you said as you pushed his chest to where he was lying down more. “You can keep your hands here, but I want to do the work.”

Jungkook frowned, only because he knew you still had to be tired. “Angel, are you sure? I can help- fuck.”

You cut him off as you clenched around him before you started moving again, his hands constricting around your waist. You placed your hands firmly on your chest to help you get more leverage as you continued moving.

As you sped up, Jungkook leaned his head back into the pillow he was lying on, eyes screwed shut and the prettiest sounds falling from his lips. You watched as the muscles in his neck strained with the movement, and that alone made you want to mark him up.

But now wasn’t the time for that.

Jungkook managed to open his eyes and look at you riding him, the sight making him twitch inside of you. He thought you looked so beautiful like this, and you taking the lead was so hot to him, he knew he’d definitely not last long if you kept this up-

“Do you know,” you broke off to moan as his cock hit a spot inside of you that made your breath hitch, “do you know why I wanted to take control tonight?”

Jungkook swallowed and shook his head, rubbing his hands along your waist.

You smiled at him lovingly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your lips before linking your fingers. The action made his heart soar.

“It’s because you always take such good care of me. I want to take care of you in that same way,” you squeezed his hand, letting your words wash over him.

“But you do take care of me,” he started to say, only to be interrupted by the feeling of your walls clenching around him again.

“I know. But tonight, I want to show you I know how to take care of you in this way, too. I want to show you how much I love you.” You leaned down, hitting a new angle that had both of you moaning as you brushed your lips against his. “Will you let me?”

Jungkook felt himself getting closer as you repeated his words from earlier. He nodded vigorously, kissing you with so much passion that you thought you might topple over. You sat up straight again and started moving faster, now pulling out as much as possible before dropping back down.

Jungkook’s high was approaching fast because of the combination of you taking control, the way you were riding him, and your words. He was feeling so many things at once and he tried to will himself to not let go.

He didn’t want to let go yet, not until you were there with him.

To help you along, he reached down in between both of you and started rubbing your clit, relishing in the feel of you around him as you stuttered in your movements. He smirked, knowing that even when you were in control, he still had an effect on you the same way you did him.

“Come on, angel, I’m right there, I want you to cum with me.” Jungkook’s voice was husky now, the pleasure threatening to overtake him any second. He bit his lip as he stared at you, watching as your head lolled forward on your neck and you started shaking from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

“I’m almost there, Koo, I love you so much,” your sounds were increasing in pitch and becoming more frequent, so he knew you were close. All that was left now was for you to reach your high together.

He took your hand that was still intertwined with his and placed a kiss on the inside of your wrist. “I love you, too,” he said softly.

His response was enough to finally provoke your orgasm, it being so powerful that you fell forward on top of him. As you did, you were clenching so tight around him that his release wasn’t far behind. He grunted as he placed his head in the crook of your neck, filling you up, the familiar sensation of warmth making you shiver in his hold.

Both of you were trying to catch your breath, you now completely laying on his chest and his arms snaked around you. He placed a kiss on top of your head and you both just laid there for a few moments.

Jungkook was the one to break the silence. “Well, that was certainly something.”

You giggled. “Yeah, I enjoyed that, Don’t know why I haven’t done that before.” You felt his chest rumble with laughter underneath you.

“Me neither, but you can absolutely do it more often. I know I won’t be opposed.”

“Deal,” you said as you leaned up to place a kiss on his nose. “But only under one condition.”

“Oh?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued at your proposition.

“You,” you said as you traced patterns on his chest, “need to stop being so cautious with me.”

A tiny frown etched itself onto his features. “Angel-”

“I mean it, Jungkook. I’m not some fragile thing that’s going to break anytime you stick your dick in me.” He couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from him, immediately apologizing afterwards because he knew you were being serious.

“I know you’re not, I just- I never want to hurt you.”

“And I’d let you know if you did. So promise me you’ll at least try to treat me a little less like I’m gonna break under your touch?”

He ran his fingers through your hair as you laid your head on his chest again. “I promise to try. I don’t just do it for you, though.”

You brought your head back up to look at him, quirking your own eyebrow. “Oh? What do you mean?”

He chuckled darkly, his stare alone making you throb. “I also do it so I can maintain some self-control.”

You laughed. “What’s so bad about losing control?”

He smirked. “Nothing, I guess. We’ll have to see though, won’t we?”

The suggestion made you tingle with desire, but you were unfortunately too tired to go again, so you figured it’d be best to leave it alone for the night. Jungkook finally pulled out of you, making you let out a small whine at the loss. Before you could say anything, he picked you up and carried you with him to the shower, as he did most nights when you two shared these intimate moments.

In the shower, he helped you clean off, and as he was washing your hair, you stared up at him, seeing his dark locks falling into his face with the weight of the water that drenched them. His lips were parted and his tongue was slightly sticking out as he concentrated on making sure he lathered every inch of your hair with shampoo. He looked so adorable like this that you couldn’t help but giggle.

You ran your hands along his chest now to help him wash off the soap, and your ring caught the light, glimmering faintly. Jungkook picked up your hand and turned it this way and that to watch the ring shine from different angles, before he linked your fingers together.

“I told you I’d get you a better one, didn’t I?” You rolled your eyes in amusement at the cocky smirk that tugged at his lips.

“You didn’t just tell me, you promised me.” You continued washing all the suds off of him as he wrapped his arms around you to bring you closer.

“And did I follow through on my promise?”

You pretended to think about it for a second, making Jungkook tickle you under the shower’s waterfall. “Ok! Ok! Yes, you did,” you said as you laughed. “You always follow through on your promises.”

“I try,” was his soft response. He nudged your cheek with his nose, which is something he did when he wanted a kiss, a habit you were very quick to pick up on in the early stages of your relationship. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood up on your tiptoes, placing a gentle kiss on his lips that had him letting out a small sound of contentment.

“I love you. And I’m in love with you. Nothing, nor anyone, will change that.” You reassured him as you pushed his hair out of his face. Any doubts he still had you wanted to erase them all.

You wanted him to know that you loved him with everything you had.

He smiled, brushing his nose against yours. “I know. And I love you more than anything. All the love I have to give is for you.” He placed another soft kiss on your lips before he pulled back to quietly add, “Only for you.”

Those three words meant so much to you, and every time you heard him say them it made you fall for him even more, if that was possible. The two of you continued to hold each other and exchange lazy kisses until the water turned too cold to bear. After drying off, you both snuggled back into bed, with you falling asleep almost instantly, feeling safe in Jungkook’s arms.

He kissed the back of your neck and wrapped his arms around you securely, resting his forehead against your shoulder as you both laid on your sides. Your soft breathing let him know you were already asleep and he smiled, elated that he could provide you the comfort you needed to help you fall into peaceful slumber once more.

When Jungkook inevitably followed behind you, he was met with nothing but pleasant dreams, and all of them were about you.

[bonyassfish]

Will Jaime kill Cersei?

I think so, thanks to our dear prophecy. for a refresher, here's the gist of what maggy the frog tells Cersei:

1. Cersei marries the king (Robert), not the prince (Rhaegar). Already happened.

2. Cersei has 3 children and the king has sixteen. Cersei’s three children will all be crowned, and have golden shrouds. Joffrey has already gotten the crown and the shroud, Tommen has the crown, and Myrcella was crowned in Dorne. I hope they don't die, bc Tommen and Myrcella are sweet innocent children, but, you know, prophecy!

3. Cersei will be queen, “until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear”. Everyone interprets this to mean the “younger and more beautiful” will also be a queen, but the language is vague enough to suggest that it really could be anyone, queen or not. I’m honestly not sure who it’s gonna be. I saw a post on reddit suggesting that the “younger and more beautiful” is Cersei herself, her paranoia over the prophecy she heard as a girl leading to her own doom, which is both very poetic and quite unlikely. I suspect it’s either Sansa or Dany

4. “And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you”. We later learn that valonqar means little brother, though since Valyrian doesn't have the same gender rules it could be “younger sibling”. the only person who definitely is NOT the valonqar is Tyrion.

do I WANT jaime to be the valonqar? no, not especially. Jaime's arc currently has him moving away from Cersei/King’s Landing, and reckoning with his ideas of justice and mercy. he's about to be pulled even deeper away from king's landing. I would hope that his arc includes him moving away from violence. however, I see a ton of evidence suggesting that he might be the valonqar.

for one, throughout AFFC, as he realizes both that Cersei has been unfaithful and what a horrible person she is/how terrible he’s been in her service, he has numerous thoughts of violence towards her, including a dream in which he chokes her.

there’s also a ton of foreshadowing about Cersei and wildfire. I think Cersei blowing up the sept will probably happen in the books as it happened in the show, or she’ll start to plan it. to be honest, it makes more sense for jaime’s character to kill her to save King’s Landing, and would obviously make a great parallel to him killing aerys

also, I find it interesting that the show cut the valonqar part out of the prophecy altogether on the show. they included the rest of the entire prophecy. obviously they saw it having thematic relevance or they wouldn't have used the show’s first flashback (and only non-Bran flashback) to show the prophecy. so why cut out the section that, in the books, arguably has the biggest affect on Cersei’s psyche?

well, if you’re D&D and think that an abusive and toxic incest relationship is the height of romance, you don’t want it to end with one of them killing the other. and we know they were really on the cersei/jaime train. even aside from that fucking ending, in the books jaime and Cersei only have sex once after he comes back to king’s landing, and the relationship promptly falls apart. every scene of sex or romance between them in the show afterward was a D&D invention. 

also also, who else could be the valonqar that would carry the same narrative weight? I've seen so many theories on who the valonqar could be, from Tommen to Arianne Martell to Aegon/fakeAegon. I can see lots of people wanting to kill Cersei, but I can’t see many people having the rage and passion to strangle her...other than jaime.

like I said, I don't WANT this to happen. I think it would bring Jaime to a really dark and horrifying place, and would mess with his redemption arc/his ability to get over such a toxic and abusive relationship. but looking at the narrative, I just can’t see another possibility that makes as much sense

[ragingbookdragon]

All Secrets Come Out In Good Time

A Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: I wrote this a long ass time ago, but never posted it to Tumblr, so here's an actual new story! Enjoy! -Thorne

She wondered what life would’ve been like for her had she never signed her contract with Wayne Enterprises. Maybe living retired and off the savings of her modeling career, sipping margaritas at the local beach bar without a care in the world? She huffed as she poured another glass of wine thinking, probably not sitting on my couch with a broken heart. The feelings still lingered, churning slowly into bitterness that made her feel ashamed.

She knew how busy his life was, especially with his nightly activities. But somewhere deep down, she wanted him to give her the real reason behind their departure, instead of the “It’s not you, it’s me” bullshit line he’d given her. Still, the reality of it was thrown in her face, and here she was on her couch, drowning her sorrows in wine he’d bought her.

Her mind lingered on the memories of them, and with those memories, came the questions. Did he actually love her? Did he love her the way she loved him? Did any of the time they shared in those two years mean anything? It did to her—she loved him. Hell, she loved his children like they were her own too.

Something warm fell on her hand and she looked down, seeing a droplet of water resting on the back of it. She blinked and her vision blurred as more tears began to fall from her eyes. Her hands moved to her face, wiping furiously, but no matter how many times she did, they kept falling, and she found herself falling deeper into heartbreak.

***Two Years Earlier***

She stepped into the ballroom, taking note of the eyes that immediately found her; she paid them no mind as she made her way deeper into the crowds, occasionally greeting her fellow models and higher-ups. The crowd seemed to part for her as she passed, making her feel like royalty, and she flashed them the million-watt smile she had perfected so long ago.

A few moments later, a warm hand brushed her arm and she looked up, seeing her employer smiling at her; she gave him one in return. “It’s good to see you, (Y/N). You look gorgeous.”

She hummed, feeling her cheeks warm at the compliment he’d given her. “Thank you, Mister Wayne.” She ran a hand down the silk fabric of the shimmering, black gown. “The dress is the new one the company has been designing.”

He eyed her dress and quipped, “Then it’s good that we had you model it for us.” He leaned in, his smile turning flirtatious. “You look absolutely beautiful in it.”

(Y/N) looked away, a bashful smile crossing her lips. “Mister Wayne, you’re just flattering me.”

He hummed, a small chuckle passing from him. “Maybe…is it working?”

She glanced back at him and after a second, she nodded. “It is.”

“Wonderful.” He motioned to her. “May I escort you around? I didn’t see you come in with anyone.”

(Y/N) nodded, watching as his arm fit around her waist, and she felt his hand brush her hip. They walked around, greeting the other socialites, when a pair made their presence known in front of them.

“Mister Wayne! Sir! It’s good to see you at the party.”

(Y/N) could feel his hand tense ever-so-slightly, and she saw him flash a fake smile. “Well Henry, this is my party.” The man laughed, and his wife smiled at (Y/N); she could feel the loathing from her spot.

“You’re that new model that just signed with Mister Wayne, aren’t you, Miss…”

She bit the inside of her cheek and smiled as she nodded. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). And yes, I am.”

The woman eyed her before quipping humorlessly, “I didn’t know they let…older women model in the company.”

The insult practically smacked (Y/N) across the face and before she could stop it, she bit out, “And I didn’t know they let bitter old harpies with pathetic grudges into parties that were meant for companies that weren’t in bankruptcy.”

The woman’s jaw went slack at her response, and the man beside her stepped forward. “How dare you speak to my wife like that?! How dare you assume our company is in debt?!”

(Y/N) simply blinked as she stared at him. “Because it is, Mister Brighton.” She gathered her thoughts. “Your company has lost more in the past six months than it has since it’s decline in the early nineties. Your best bet would be to try and get Mister Wayne to make a deal that would save your company.”

She glowered at the older couple, her voice hardening as she declared, “Don’t let my age fool you. I might be older than many of the models Wayne Enterprises hires, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain. I’ll have you know I graduated valedictorian at my high school and my university. I’ve modeled all my life. Wayne Enterprises started a line for women in my age group and I was offered a job. Do I need to explain anything else to you? Or have your behaviors been apparent enough?”

The two of them stuttered out responses before they excused themselves, shuffling away as fast as they could. (Y/N) watched them as they left, then her eyes moved to the man still beside her.

Her eyes widened in shock as she realized he was still there. “Oh my. You—I—oh dear.” She blinked as she tried to apologize to him. “I am so sorry, Mister Wayne. I—I just got—”

“Carried away in the absolute decimation of someone who insulted you?” She paused at his words, taking in the sight of the grin working its way on his face. “I have to say, seeing you shove that back in their face was…pretty entertaining(Y/N).”

She huffed a laugh at his words, shaking her head. “You’re something else, Mister Wayne.”

He grinned, tightening his grip on her waist. “I find I’m just enough for what’s needed.”

“Uh huh,” she doubted with an arched brow.

He winked. “I am.”

“I’ll take your word for it then.” She replied jokingly.

***A Few Months Later***

“You know, I never actually expected you to fly us to the Swiss Alps.” She turned around from the large window, watching as he reclined on the couch.

“And why didn’t you expect me to?”

She shrugged as she walked around the couch, leaning over the back, and wrapping her arms around his neck; she rested her chin on his shoulder and turned her face to him. “Dunno…just kinda mentioned it offhandedly. I never thought you’d take me so seriously, Bruce.”

He smiled at her response, turning his head so they were face to face. “I take everythingseriously, (Y/N).”

She nodded. “That you do.” (Y/N) leaned forward, pressing her lips to his lightly, then she rested her forehead against his. They stared at one another until she whispered, “I love you.”

He blinked, obviously shocked at her open admittance, but he soon recovered, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek as he replied, “I love you too, (Y/N).” She smiled at him, then pressed her face into his neck; he chuckled at her. “Embarrassed?”

“Oh,shut up…it’s not every day you tell the man you love that you love him, and he does the same.”

There was a moment of silence, then she felt her body being tugged, and she realized he was pulling her over the side of the couch. She tumbled into his lap, and his arms wound around her waist, pulling her close. (Y/N) relaxed against him, then she felt his lips press light kisses into her neck. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, and she felt his lips stop.

As they moved away, he asked, “Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

She turned and looked at him, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. “I’m just really glad that you and I are here…together.”

Bruce smiled down at her, cupping her cheek. “Me too.”

***A Year Later***

She opened the door, seeing him stand on the other side; she smiled at him and gestured him in. “You know, when I gave you the key, Bruce, I meant for you to use it.” She expected a laugh from him, but none came, and she tipped her head to the side. “Are you alright? You look tense.”

He nodded, taking off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack. “I’m fine…just thinking, (Y/N).”

“Is it anything you want to talk about?”

He paused, meeting her eyes, then they drifted to the table, and he saw the dinner she’d prepared for them. “After dinner.”

(Y/N) wanted to keep the conversation, but she decided against it, and nodded. “Alright then.” She wrapped an arm around his and led him into the kitchen. “Since you called on short notice, I assumed you had something important to tell me, so…” She motioned to the food. “I made your favorite.”

A small smile graced his lips and he looked at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She nodded, grabbing the bottle of wine as she watched him sit. “Of course, Bruce. I love to spoil you.”

***

The dinner went smoothly, and they each told the other about their day, then moved the conversation into the living room. (Y/N) sat on the couch beside him, resting her wine glass on her thigh as she watched him.

She hummed at his silence. “Kinda quiet over there…are you sure everything’s alright?”

He looked at his hands, then let out a sigh, and (Y/N) held her breath, waiting for him to finally tell her the secret she’d known for the longest time. It had been by chance that she’d learned his secret identity, and everyone would say blame it on Dick, who saw her and immediately said, “Hey it’s mom!”. Quite the running joke between his kids, who had essentially bonded with her over the year and a half that Bruce and she had been dating. She made them promise not to tell Bruce about her knowing, her telling them “It’s not our secret to tell, it’s his. And I need to hear it from him when he’s ready.”.

(Y/N) thought back to that time, and reached out a hand, taking his gently as she murmured, “Whatever you need to tell me, I’m listening Bruce. And I won’t judge you.”

He sighed once more, pulling his hand away and reaching into his pocket; he pulled something out and held it out, saying, “I think I should give this back to you.”

(Y/N) eyes moved to the item in his hand, and she felt her breath leave her lungs at the sight of the silver key in between his fingers. “I…I don’t understand?”

He shut his mouth, putting the key on the coffee table beside them as he said, “It’s not anything you’ve done, (Y/N). I just think we need to see other people.”

She blinked, not understanding where it was coming from. “But I…I thought…” (Y/N) couldn’t form the words she needed to tell him, and he rose from the couch.

“I think I should go.”

She jumped up, following him. “You can’t just leave, Bruce! You can’t just leave it like this!”

He stopped as he grabbed his jacket, turning to her. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your sorry! I want your real reason!”

“I gave you—”

She cut him off, scoffing, “Oh, that’s a load of bullshit and we bothknow it!” (Y/N) stepped forward, winding her hands in his shirt. “We’ve been dating for almost two years. You can’t look at me and tell me that we need to see other people. There’s something going on.”

“Just talk to me. Talk to me, Bruce,” she pled with him.

His hands rose from his side and he gently took hers in his, removing them from his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

She blinked, too stunned to even say a word as he apologized once more and left her standing in the entrance of her apartment, alone and heartbroken.

***Present***

He pulled off the cowl and sank into the chair in front of the Batcomputer; a bottle of water appeared in his view and he took it, looking up at Alfred. “Thanks Alfred.”

The butler nodded, handing out the other bottles to everyone around them. A joke between them made them laugh, and he watched them, a small smile crossing his lips.

He watched Jason nudge Dick and nod to him. “Is hell freezing over, or is the old man actually smiling at us?” The others looked over and he watched eyebrows raise in slight surprise.

It irked him, and he quipped, “Just because I don’t smile often doesn’t mean I can’t smile.”

“Are you sure? Kinda looks like your face is cracking over there, B.”

Bruce rolled his eyes at Dick’s comment, and he stood up, stretching his arms over his head as he made his way to the lockers. They followed, and each began peeling off their suits and pulling on after clothes.

“You know what would be good right now?” They looked at Jason who was sitting on the bench. “(Y/N)’s apple pie and homemade sea salt vanilla ice-cream.”

They groaned at his words and Dick looked over at Bruce, who wore a clouded expression. “We never did get the real reason why you ended things with her.” He paused, looking at his brothers. “We liked her. Even Damian did.”

Damian nodded at this and turned to Bruce. “Why did you leave her, father? She was the only tolerable woman you’ve ever brought to the manor.”

Jason reached over and riffled his youngest brother’s hair. “That’s because she didn’t take any of your shit two-bit. She acted like a mom when it came to you.” Damian batted Jason’s hand away, glaring at him; Jason turned to Bruce. “Answer the question, old man. Why’d you run (Y/N) off?”

Bruce sighed, sitting down on the bench, knowing he wasn’t getting out of it; he motioned around him. “Look at what we do. I couldn’t tell her about this. She would’ve run for the hills had I told her.”

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “So, your choice was to break up with her to keep her sane and safe?” Bruce nodded.

Tim stepped forward, his gaze shifting between the others before turning to back to his father. “Bruce, I don’t know if you know this…but (Y/N) already knows what we do.”

Bruce’s eyes went wide, and he looked up at Tim in shock. “What?”

Tim nodded, motioning to Dick. “Dick accidently called her ‘mom’ one night when we saw her, and she put two and two together.”

Bruce blinked at the revelation; he’d never in a million years assume that she’d learned their secret early. “She…never said anything…”

“That’s because she was waiting for you to tell her,” Jason remarked with a smart-ass glare.

“She…was?”

The others stared expectingly at him and Damian said, “She told us that it was your right to tell her and yours alone.” He paused, looking at him. “You should go to her and apologize.”

Bruce stared at them before nodding and rising from his seat. “I probably should.”

They grinned, following him out when a slightly unnerved Alfred came to them. “Master Bruce…you need to come at once.”

“What’s wrong?”

Alfred motioned up the stairs. “It’s Miss (Y/N). She’s here…and she’s…inebriated.”

Jason barked a laugh, but quickly shut his mouth at the feeling of Dick’s elbow in his side, and they watched Bruce run up the steps to her. They followed, of course, and stuck their heads out of the doorway to see the conversation because they were nosey as hell—though it’s not like they didn’t learn that from their father. Bruce walked over to her, holding out his hands to try and balance her as she wobbled.

She slapped his hands away from her, a glare in her eyes. “Don’t touch me. I can handle myself.” He frowned, lowering his hands and she pointed at him. “I don’t make habits of talking to my exes, but I need to have a conversation with you.” He nodded and she poked his chest. “I want the real reason you dumped me.”

(Y/N) paused, lowering her head as she breathed to herself, “Oh my god, I sound like a crazy ex-girlfriend.” Bruce snorted and she whipped her head up, glowering, “That wasn’t supposed to be funny to you, Mister Wayne.” He shut his mouth and she poked his chest again. “I’ve been waiting patiently for the past two years, waiting for you to tell me your secret, and the night that you tell me we need to talk, I think you’re going to, then you dump me and tell me we need to see other people.”

She grunted at him. “I know you’re Batman and whatever reason you dumped me was a crock of shit and I want the real one. Now.” (Y/N) glared at him until he sighed and nodded, taking her hand, and leading her into the study. On the way, she saw the boys and she waved at them. “Hi boys! I’m sorry I’m in a rare form right now.”

They simply grinned and waved back as they watched them enter the cave. Bruce led her down the steps, at one point having to carry her because she couldn’t take so many close steps.

When they arrived, she stared at it in shock. “I…knew you were him…but…” She twirled around, feeling his hands steadying her as she did. “But it’s so much realer in person.”

Bruce nodded, looking at the cave. “It is, isn’t it.”

(Y/N) turned to him, a heart wrenching look on her face. “Is this the real reason you left me?” He nodded silently and she asked, “Why?”

A moment of silence passed before he sighed and said, “The lives we live are dangerous, (Y/N)…and I…I just didn’t want you to get caught up in all of it.”

She stared at him before quipping, “Duly noted and while I appreciate the sentiment, that wasn’t your decision to make.” She took his hand. “A relationship is based on two people not just one.”

He nodded again and they lapsed into silence until he looked at her and questioned, “Did you really get drunk and come over here to get me to tell you that?”

(Y/N) cleared her throat before pulling back her hand and turning around. “Everyone needs a bit of liquid courage every now and then to face what’s weighing on them.” She glanced at him. “I don’t take half-ass answers from anyone. Not even you.” (Y/N) nodded at him and started making her way to the stairs when she felt him grab her hand again; she turned and looked at him, seeing a hopeful look on his face.

“Stay with me?” he asked.

She grunted at him. “We aren’t dating anymore, remember? You broke up with me like a textbook rich boyfriend does.”

Bruce stopped to her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. “What if I apologize for it?”

She went silent for a second, drawing circles in his chest with her finger, then she looked at him and murmured, “You’re going to have to give me a hell of a night in order to apologize for this. Maybe…behave and do everything I tell you?”

A smirk wound his lips and he flirted, “I think I can manage that.” (Y/N) hummed at him, and he raised a hand, cupping her cheek. “But I think right now, youshould get some sleep before we have it.”

“Hmm…darn shame, I was really looking forward to not walking for a week.” She paused and looked at him. “Does this mean we’re dating again?”

Bruce nodded. “If you’ll have me. I know it’s difficult to be around all of us.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t think anyone sane could really hold their own in your family.” She paused. “Remember the first time I came over? Damian made me play chess with him.” She waved her hands around. “I still don’t even know how to play chess!” Bruce laughed as he helped her up the stairs. “Bruce, I don’t know how to play chess.”

“I know, darling.”

“I beat him at it.”

“I know you did, darling. He’s still bitter about it.”

“He is?”

“Of course, he is. He’s a perfectionist.”

(Y/N) grinned as she nudged him. “So are you.”

Bruce stopped moving and gazed at her. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

She nodded at his apology. “Sorry for coming to your house wine-drunk and demanding a reason for our breakup.”

“Don’t worry…you’re not the first who’s done so.”

“Bruce Wayne!”

He laughed at her shock, and he leaned over, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I was joking, (Y/N).”

She grunted as he led her into the study. “You’d better be.” (Y/N) waved at the boys who were still in the room. “Hi boys! Bye boys!”

They wore amused grins and waved at her as they walked to his bedroom. Bruce helped her out of her clothes and into a t-shirt of his and they crawled into the bed, her curled up on his chest, his arms wound tightly around her.

“You’re warm,” she murmured.

“I know.”

“I missed it.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

There was a moment of silence then he murmured, “I love you, (Y/N).” He expected a reply, but when he received none, he looked down, seeing her asleep. Bruce huffed a quiet laugh before pressing a kiss to her temple and reaching over to turn out the lamp.

[along-came-atsushi]

The way Dazai protects Atsushi

When we imagine someone who is protective, mostly it is a person who bursts into a fit of rage or someone who heroically and willingly throws away their own life if it means to protect others. A good example for this would be Kunikida’s actions on several occasions. Dazai is less a person to obviously show rage or to heroically throw himself in front of someone.

Which doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care at all, it’s quite the contrary. And it’s sometimes very subtle and tricky, because he always has plans within plans and tries to achieve several goals with a single plan.

.

I will only focus here on Dazai’s actions that solely have to do with Atsushi. I’m not going to bring up every single hidden agenda or goal Dazai is also trying to achieve.

In addition, this post has been tagged as #Dazatsu just to be safe. But of course it can be read from a platonic POV.

.

Beware: Spoilers starting from chapter 83 and for 55 Minutes!

.

How Dazai gets Atsushi into the ADA

Dazai practically tricked and then it may seem like he pressured Atsushi into joining the ADA, even after Atsushi already said that he doesn’t want to join:

The reason for Atsushi’s refusal was not that he didn’t want to join, because he just simply didn’t want to join. But because he lacks the self-confidence in taking a task like this. He doesn’t believe in himself and his abilities and thinks he isn’t fit for the job. This lack of self-confidence together with the fact that Atsushi constantly gets pushed by either people around him or his circumstances to keep relying on himself rather than others runs like a red string through his story.

Dazai on the other hand sees a great potential in Atsushi. In the moment where Atsushi saved him from drowning, he already planned to team him up with Akutagawa. Not only because of their abilities and their compatibility in battle. But because Atsushi would be the person to “teach Akutagawa how to put that sword away”. In other words: to value life. Which is something that Dazai wasn’t able to teach Akutagawa (I covered this in another meta and won’t explain it here any further).

Another reason is that the things Dazai states above are simply the truth: If Atsushi doesn’t join, then there is nothing the ADA can do to help him (or it would be much harder and complicated for them). He needs to do everything a normal adult in society has to do, which is harder for Atsushi than other people, since he has been abruptly kicked out of his orphanage without any further help or assistance. Not to mention that he is perceived as a monster and not in control of his own ability, and therefore a wanted criminal and dangerous ability user. This could lead Atsushi in either getting killed or falling into the hands of other shady organizations who have far worse intentions for him. Saying the above is less Dazai trying to manipulate Atsushi and more him just telling what would happen and to be realistic.

Having Atsushi join the ADA for Dazai does not only help Atsushi to live a safer life and make it easier for Dazai to keep an eye out for him, but also to give Atsushi the chance to safe other people in the progress.

.

The Entrance Exam

Since Atsushi refused there was no way for Dazai to have him join the ADA the easy way and then only later testing if he really was worthy of being a true member. Just like it has been the case with Dazai’s entrance exam (Dazai freely joined the ADA after being recommended and was perceived as a new member immediately. Only during his first case with Kunikida was he secretly being tested of being worthy, which he succeeded). Therefore, a plan under a pretext was needed in order to test Atsushi and convince him to join.

During the ADA’s meeting for planning Atsushi’s entrance exam (which is told in the first part of the ‘Untold Story of the ADA’ novel) Dazai anticipated that Atsushi would either convince the bomber (played by Tanizaki) or somehow defuse the bomb himself. Neither of his predictions happened, instead Atsushi was willing to sacrifice himself so that he could protect others. This selfless action honestly surprised Dazai, which not many people are able to achieve, because he always predicts their actions:

Since it’s been hinted by Dazai that he already lost other people close to him in his life, even before Ango’s betrayal and Odasaku’s death, Atsushi’s action probably could’ve served as a trigger for him. He had to realize that there is a possibility that Atsushi would sacrifice himself to protect others. Especially since he doesn’t deem his own life as worthy and has been told many times to be useless and to “just die in a ditch somewhere.”

.

“Stalking” Higuchi

Dazai immediately recognized Higuchi to be a PM member and that she’s contacting the ADA under disguise for ulterior motives. The scene with Higuchi is a good example that Dazai does many things which either annoys other people (flirting with her) or are seen as him just being lazy and/or fooling around (listening to music and singing), while in reality he is already following a hidden plan.

Flirting with Higuchi distracts her and everyone else from Dazai slipping a wiretap in her jacket. It helps him to let everyone just act naturally without the possibility of revealing anything by accident. Furthermore, it makes people underestimate Dazai, because for everyone else he was just fooling around.

Due to the reason that the PM contacted the ADA under disguise as soon as Atsushi was their new member could have been already suspicious for Dazai, suspecting that it has something to do with Atsushi and was not just a regular attack on the ADA. Later on, this gets confirmed when it’s been stated that The Guild set a bounty on Atsushi for some reason.

.

Is Dazai following Atsushi around?

When Atsushi accompanies Ranpo on his murder case Dazai surprisingly shows up:

This meeting could be just a coincidence, of course. After all it’s just Dazai fooling around again (or in this case, trying to commit suicide again). But since the case with Higuchi has shown that Dazai loves to pretend to do something else, when he in reality is following a hidden agenda, it might be that he showed up there on purpose. Maybe just to see how Atsushi was faring and to eventually intervene if something serious would happen (like he did when Atsushi and Akutagawa were fighting for the first time). Especially with the PM on Atsushi’s tail now.

In chapter 84 it has been revealed that Dazai indeed does have an eye on Atsushi. When he can’t do that himself anymore, he makes sure to ask Akutagawa to keep an eye on him instead:

.

Going far for Atsushi’s sake

After getting to know about the bounty, Dazai lets himself get captured by the PM on purpose, without informing any other ADA members, and stays inside the prison until seemingly a right time draws near. He is willing to do this, even though he knows full well that he is perceived as a traitor and that certain people will not welcome him with open arms.

When Chuuya mentions that he suspects that Dazai must be here for a certain reason, Dazai then states that he does all of this mostly for Atsushi. He even goes so far as to provoke a second punch in the face from Akutagawa, by belittling him in saying that Atsushi is a better subordinate than him, after Akutagawa threatens to kill Atsushi.

.

Probably the most visible scene where Dazai openly shows anger and shock towards someone hurting Atsushi (or hurting someone he cares about in general) is during the incident with Q:

He doesn’t act like this again the second time when Atsushi brings him the doll to nullify Q’s ability, even though the whole city is in chaos. He’s also less concerned about Naomi and Haruno in that moment and more focused on Atsushi during this. Which doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care at all for others, knowing that Naomi and Haruno are able to handle their situation (which is confirmed by them later). But it also shows that Atsushi is his main priority.

Throughout the story Atsushi slowly notices this himself. At first he is hesitant to believe that he is Dazai’s “most trusted subordinate” and worries that Dazai might be mad with him should he go overboard with something (e.g. during 55 Minutes when he was able to surprise Dazai who was hiding in the trash can).

He only ever claims to have Dazai’s trust, if it means to provoke Akutagawa (which he does for a different reason, but I’m not going to expand on this here). Later, he even wonders how Dazai would react/look if Akutagawa came back with the news of him having died: 

Which means that Atsushi’s former mentality of people not caring should he die gets replaced by having someone actually be mad/sad about this.

.

Hiding his “dark side”

It may not be that visible in the anime, since some scenes are either left out or interpreted for the sake of jokes. But the manga makes it clear that Dazai struggles with guilt because of his own past (e.g. when Atsushi asks the other ADA members what they’ve done before joining the ADA, aside from everyone else Dazai looks away. This suggests that this question and the closely related memories of it are uncomfortable for him. Another example is his reaction when he asks Kyouka how many people she has killed).

Dazai is well aware that he can’t hide his past from Atsushi forever and that he sooner or later will find out. This is then almost immediately revealed to him by Akutagawa.

However Dazai still tries to hide his “dark side” from Atsushi. Apparently, he doesn’t want him to see that he’s capable of being cruel or that Atsushi may become too aware of anything that could reveal more of Dazai’s past and the things he has done. During certain situations Dazai purposefully doesn’t let Atsushi go or stay with him:

1.) When he pushed Atsushi out of the room to “interrogate” Kouyou:

2.) When he pretended to need to use the bathroom, because he knew they were being followed:

3.) When he meets Ango:

(Even Kouyou comments on how Dazai lets Atsushi out of certain business.)

The reasons for this may be that he’s afraid to reveal this “dark side” of him to Atsushi and that he doesn’t want to drag him into the business of the underworld. It could also be that he’s afraid that Atsushi might see him in a different light and that he’ll turn deprecating towards him. As of now Atsushi doesn’t know the full extent of Dazai’s past and actions. But due the fact that he’s aware that Dazai was a former PM member (an executive even), he must also be aware that some answers will be frightening. Furthermore, he must also already have some ideas about Dazai’s past.

Throughout the story Atsushi has been shown to be sympathetic with different characters, trying to understand their actions or the reason that drives them. Even when these characters fought against or tried to kill him in the past (Kyouka, Lucy, Akutagawa, Fitzgerald, Sigma). Therefore, I doubt that Atsushi will see Dazai in a different/negative light, should his past be fully revealed. But this is something Dazai may not anticipate, since he doesn’t see himself as a good person and as someone worthy of redemption.

 .

Dazai believes in Atsushi

Dazai has an overwhelming believe in Atsushi and his abilities. He reassures and compliments him from the very beginning:

“Nice, Atsushi. You’re like a real detective already! It’s such a joy to see you grow up so fast!” [After being send back in time] “Ha-ha-ha! I never thought you’d be able to scare me like that! You’ve grown Atsushi!” – 55 Minutes

.

“Oooh!” Dazai squealed in excitement. “Look at you, Atsushi! Impressive!” – 55 Minutes

Contrary to Atsushi, who struggles to acknowledge his own self-worth and has little to no faith in his own abilities.

This is the reason why Dazai sometimes pushes Atsushi (not only literally but also figuratively) to do things on his own, whenever he realizes that Atsushi is hesitating. He’s throwing him in at the deep, in order for Atsushi to learn more self-confidence:

He sends him on several missions alone (e.g. sneaking into the Moby Dick) or with other people (e.g. Akutagawa), because he knows that Atsushi is able to do this, even without him:

“[…] It’s up to you to prove the detective agency’s innocence and set us free. You can do it, right?” Atsushi knew – Dazai only asked people if they could do it when he was certain they could. – 55 Minutes

Atsushi’s actions get firmly planned into Dazai’s predictions, knowing that he will choose the right decision:

This great believe in Atsushi gets also noticed by other people (e.g. Mark Twain and Akutagawa):

.

In return

Dazai’s positive influence on Atsushi also has a positive effect on his psyche: The headmaster’s voice and image inside his mind – the person who always drags him down, tells him to be useless and that he will “not make it” – slowly gets replaced by Dazai’s voice and image – the person who cheers him up and tells him to believe in himself:

It’s no doubt that Dazai was the person who helped Atsushi to live a better life and he is perceived as “the man who saved me” by Atsushi himself. For this reason and his self-confidence Atsushi admires Dazai and is grateful to him.

But on the other hand, Atsushi was also willing to save Dazai despite his dire situation. Not only does Atsushi put Dazai on a pedestal, it is also Dazai who puts Atsushi on a pedestal and who sees him as the person able to help, protect and maybe even change others.

[nerdzzone]

The Aftermath

Summary: Dealing with the fall out of their first night together isn’t easy for Whitney Taylor or Chris Evans, but given the complicated results of their frivolous activities, it isn’t something they can avoid forever.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One: Luckless Romance

Note: I was originally going to leave Luckless Romance as a one shot, but I had some requests for a part two. I had it all planned out in my head anyway so I figured I’d write it up to explain more of where our two lovely character’s heads were at!

Please let me know your thoughts! Or if there’s any other parts of their story that you’d like to hear about!

_____

When Chris woke up, the first thing he noticed was the throbbing in his head.

The second thing he noticed was the warm body curled into his side.

His initial reaction to that sensation was confusion, but as the events of the night before quickly came back to him, he was filled with an unignorable sense of dread.

He'd fucked up.

He'd spent a year burying his feelings for her to protect their friendship and all it took was a few drinks and flirtatious remarks for him to risk it all. He cared for her, there was no doubt about that, but he knew she didn't feel the same way. Clearly, she was at least attracted to him, but he'd hazard a guess that her loneliness was the driving factor in why she'd chosen to indulge in the activities they'd partaken in a few hours earlier. She’d had no luck in the dating scene, so she'd settled for him and now, when she woke up, she'd break his heart.

She didn't want him.

She didn't want the life that he could offer.

She'd made it clear that she found the world of Hollywood exhausting when she'd talked about her discontent with living in L.A. and that was a world he couldn't escape from. Plus, his fans had given her a hard enough time when she was just a close friend. If she was to become something more, they would tear her apart. He didn't want that for her and he knew that she didn't want that kind of hassle in her life either.

But he couldn't stand to hear her say it. He never did well with rejection and rejection from this woman - who he knew was absolutely perfect for him - was more than he could handle.

So, after carefully extracting himself from her grasp without waking her, he left.

He felt sleezy and awful not even saying goodbye, but he needed to quiet the noise in his brain before he could face her and he figured she would probably appreciate his absence. He knew firsthand how awkward it was to let down a one night stand the morning after so, really, he was sparing her just as much as he was protecting himself.

The heat outside was stifling already and made Chris realize just how desperate he was for something to quench his thirst. They'd drunk more than he normally did and he was feeling the effects. Perhaps that was why his mind was so fuzzy and unable to process what had happened, but he figured it was a safe bet that he could pin that on his anxiety.

And there were only two people who had much luck soothing him when his mind started racing: his mother and his brother.

He knew his mother would be disappointed in him if he told her what happened. He'd poured his heart out to her several times about the confliction he felt with his feelings for Whitney, he dreaded to think what she would say about him finally doing something about those feelings in such a reckless way and he was definitely too hungover to deal with her reaction to how he'd handled things that morning.

So, that left Scott.

Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the time and cringed. It wasn't even six thirty yet and with it being a Sunday there was a good chance that Scott was in a worse post-inebriated state than he was, but he took a chance and hit 'call'.

It took a few rings, but eventually Scott answered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Scott," Chris greeted him as he crossed the street. He needed to flag down a cab to get home, but figured the quiet park across from Whitney's apartment was a better place for this conversation. No extra ears listening in. "I fucked up."

"Chris, it's not even seven o'clock in the morning. How badly could you have fucked anything up this early?"

He sounded tired and Chris felt bad, but he needed someone to talk to.

"I slept with Whitney."

There was a moment of silence before Scott let out a cheer.

"Finally!" He practically squealed, but then he paused as he took in what Chris had said. "Wait, how did you fuck up? Did you not use your best moves?"

"What? No, nothing like that," Chris' brow furrowed in annoyance. "I fucked up by sleeping with her at all. She's one of my best friends, Scott, and now that's ruined. It’ll never be the same, if she even wants anything to do with me now."

"Did she not seem happy about it? What did she say when you left?"

"Nothing," Chris admitted. "I left this morning before she woke up."

There was a moment of silence as Scott processed his brother's words.

"Okay, I'm starting to see where you fucked up. You shouldn't have done that."

"No, I fucked up by sleeping with her!"

Chris' tone was snappy and uncalled for, but his headache was getting worse by the minute and he was feeling exasperated enough without Scott's judgment.

"Alright, alright, calm down," Scott sighed. "If you want my honest opinion, I think you're overreacting. You two have always had a 'will they won't they' vibe about you. She's clearly just as interested in you as you are in her."

"Why 'clearly'?" Chris questioned. "She's never acted like she sees me as more than a friend."

"Uh, yes, she has. She blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl every time you compliment her, she practically drools at the sight of you and listens with hearts in her eyes whenever you talk. She's got it just as bad as you do."

"Don't do that," Chris groaned. "Don't put ideas in my head that aren't true."

"It is true. I wouldn't lie to you about that," Scott insisted. "I think this is just your anxiety talking. Go back to her place before she wakes up, hear what she has to say and go from there. She might surprise you."

"I'll think about it," Chris lied, knowing already that he couldn't face going back. "Thanks for answering. I'll let you get back to bed."

"Don't mention it," Scott assured him. "I know you're stressed now, but I'm happy for you. It's about time the two of you came to your senses."

Chris smiled despite his disbelief in what Scott had said. He laughed it off and said his goodbyes before walking towards the nearest road to catch a cab.

He saw Whitney's message a few hours later, but he ignored it. He needed to get his head straight and steel himself for however she chose to let him down before he would be ready to talk to her.

It took days for him to get to the point of acceptance, but she never messaged him again. So, working on the assumption that she was relieved by his silence or didn't care enough to demand any explanations, he got on a plane and headed back to Massachusetts with plans to spend the next few months drowning his sorrows and pushing her from his mind.

-

Three Weeks Later

My period was late.

For the last ten years of my life, my period had arrived with impressive reliability and now, a few weeks after having unprotected sex, my period was late.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. There was no doubt in my mind that I was pregnant.

"It's not that easy to get pregnant," Hannah insisted as we sat in my living room, counting down the minutes until the pregnancy test would be ready. "A lot of people who actually want to get pregnant have to try for months before it happens. It seems super unlikely that you'd get pregnant from a random one night stand."

"Yeah, but it does happen to plenty of women," I pointed out. "And knowing my luck, I would get knocked up by a man who then flees the state without another word."

Hannah winced as I paced in front of her.

"Still haven't heard anything, then?"

"Nope, nothing," I sighed. "I haven't reached out again, but he made himself pretty clear by leaving before I woke up and then ignoring my text."

"I just don't get it. He was so obviously into you. I would have bet money that you two would live happily ever after."

"You did bet money," I reminded her. "I'm still waiting for that thousand dollars you promised me."

"You didn't accept!" She smiled. "I owe you nothing!"

While I didn't really expect her to pay me, I was going to argue the point, but the timer we'd set for the test went off and snapped our focus back to the task at hand.

"Oh god," I groaned. "You read it. I can't deal with this."

Hannah nodded and carefully picked up the little stick before looking up at me with a grin.

"It's negative!"

I felt a wave of relief, but it was quickly replaced with doubt. I felt like I was pregnant. My period was late for the first time in years, I'd had sex without a condom and I was nauseous and my boobs hurt. It seemed too good to be true that it was all some kind of coincidence.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah!" Hannah smiled. "There's two lines!"

Her words hit me like a truck as my stomach dropped.

"Hannah, two lines means positive."

"No, it doesn't," she insisted, reaching for the box. The fall of the smile on her face told me all I needed to know before she even spoke again. "Shit. Sorry, babe. You're pregnant."

I let out a groan as I flopped onto the couch next to her.

"This is a nightmare."

"Shall I get my shotgun?"

I raised an eyebrow at my friend.

"What?"

"For a shotgun wedding?"

I laughed at that suggestion, but shook my head.

"No, I don't want him to be forced into anything."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "It doesn't really seem real yet."

"Are you going to tell him?"

I looked down at my still flat stomach and nodded my head.

"Yeah, I'll have to. I know it's still new, but I want to keep it so he'll have to know," I sighed. "If he even answers my calls."

"He will," she assured me. "Or we'll fly out to Boston and you can tell him after I kick his ass."

The image that statement conjured in my mind pulled another laugh from my lips as I felt an overwhelming wave of appreciation for my friend. I knew that no matter what, she was in my corner and that was a comforting thought even in the midst of all the uncertainty that was swirling around me.

"Thanks, Hannah," I smiled. "I really appreciate all your support."

"Of course," she reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "Are you going to call him now?"

"No, I think I'll do it later," I informed her. "I want to wrap my head around it a little bit first."

"That's probably sensible," she agreed as a grin slid onto her face. "Wow, you're gonna have a baby, Whit. I know it's scary, but that's really cool."

"Cool isn't the word that I'd use. Try absolutely terrifying."

My earlier smile was still on my face despite my bleak words as I thought about what she'd said. It was somewhat good news. Definitely worrying, especially given my situation with Chris, but I'd always wanted to have kids so it would have been a lie for me to say that I wasn't at least a little bit intrigued by the idea.

-

When Hannah left my house, about an hour after we read the test, I planned on taking some time to fully comprehend the news before I shared it with Chris. However, almost as soon as I closed the door behind my friend, I remembered the time difference. Chris was three hours ahead of me which meant that even though it was only five o'clock for me, it was already eight o'clock where he was.

I felt the anxiety bubbling in my stomach as soon as I came to that realization because I knew that if I wanted to call him that day, I had to do it right away and if I didn’t call him soon, I was worried I’d lose the nerve.

I took a deep breath and went straight for my phone, dialing his number before I could change my mind, but I was crushed when he didn't answer. I waited a few minutes and then tried again, but still, there was no answer and I let out a growl of frustration as I frantically typed out a text.

Hey. Call me as soon as you can. It's important.

I paced around my apartment, the reality of the situation starting to creep in now that he, once again, seemed to be rejecting me. 

I didn't want to tell him news like this over the phone, but I'd seen the paparazzi pictures of him arriving at the airport in Boston so I knew that I had no other choice. However, if he wasn't even going to answer my calls, I'd have to get the news to him another way. My mind immediately started racing with all the possible ways I might have to break the news to him as the panic of potentially having to do this alone started to rise.

But luckily, all those concerns were irrelevant when my phone lit up with Chris' name on the screen.

"Hey," I answered quickly before he had the chance to change his mind and hang up. "Thanks for calling."

There was a moment of silence before he replied.

"Sure," he kept his tone cool and steady, but there was an underlying tension. "What's up?"

The sound of his voice brought tears to my eyes. This was it. This was the make or break moment and I felt my palms start to sweat as it hit me just how devastated I'd be if it didn't go well.

"I, uh, I don’t really want to tell you this over the phone, but I guess I don’t really have much choice," I started. "I got some news today that you have a right to know."

It seemed obvious to me what I would be hinting at considering our current situation and the silence that followed my words led me to believe that he had a pretty good idea what I was going to say. When he stayed quiet, wordlessly waiting for me to continue, I took a deep breath and dove in.

“I’m pregnant.”

I hadn't thought much about how I was going to tell him, but I figured there was probably a better way than blurting it out that bluntly. I cringed slightly at my harsh delivery as his silence was almost immediately broken and he started spluttering and stuttering, stumbling over his words until he managed to blurt out one clear sentence.

"Is it mine?"

A burst of anger flashed through me at such a suggestion.

"Yes! Oh my God, Chris, of course it's yours!" I insisted. "How many people do you think I've slept with in the last month?"

Maybe he thinks you're a slut, the voice in my head taunted me. Maybe that's why he left without a word.

That thought was enough to get the tears flowing and, when Chris didn’t answer my question, I let out a sob. I covered my mouth to hopefully stifle the sound, but I knew he heard it loud and clear.

"Shit, Whitney," he sighed. "That was a dumb thing to say. You just caught me off guard."

"Well, how do you think I feel?" I hissed. "I'm scared, Chris. What are we going to do?"

This time there was no hesitation before he answered.

"I'll get the first flight out tomorrow morning," he informed me. "We can talk about it then."

"Okay," I sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," he assured me. "It's just as much my fault as it is yours."

My emotions were overwhelming me by that point and I stayed quiet, knowing I'd fall apart if I opened my mouth to speak, but Chris didn't let the silence last too long this time.

"Are you, uh, are you gonna keep it?" He asked, sounding heartbreakingly similar to a small child asking his parents if he could keep the stray dog he'd brought home. "It's your call, but I'm behind you one hundred percent."

"I am going to keep it," I told him quietly. "But you only have to be as involved as you want to be."

"I want to be very involved," Chris answered quickly before letting out a sharp laugh. "Fuck, I'm gonna be a dad."

The sound of more laughter floated through the phone after that realization, but I couldn't tell if it was giddy or hysterical.

"You are," I agreed, feeling some relief from his reaction despite how complicated I knew things would be. "But we can talk about it all when you're here. If you really don't mind coming back."

"Not at all, this is important." He assured me. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll text you with the details as soon as I know."

"Okay, thank you."

He insisted that I didn't need to thank him before we quickly wrapped up the conversation.

There was a lot to say and a lot to discuss, but it wasn’t something to be talked about it over the phone. We needed to discuss it in person once we'd both had time to understand exactly what it meant.

And we needed to figure out what the hell we were going to do about us.

-

I thought having almost twenty-four hours to compose my thoughts would make things easier, but as I waited for Chris to get to my apartment I still had a lot of questions and concerns

But I had decided one thing for certain: we were better off as friends.

When we were friends, he didn't ignore my calls. When we were friends, he didn't run out of my apartment without saying goodbye. When we were friends, he hadn't broken my heart because I never gave him the chance. I was frustrated by his behaviour since the night we spent together and it made me angry. When I thought about it too hard, it made my blood boil and I wanted to tear a strip off of him for making me feel so used. When we were friends, I'd never felt more than a hint of annoyance towards him.

So, the only solution as far as I could see, was for us to stay just friends.

That would prevent any more heightened emotions and if we didn't do it that way, I would end up resentful and bitter. I didn't have much experience with children, but even I knew that those feelings would create a very toxic relationship for raising a child.

Which is why, as soon as he stepped into my apartment, I was on the defensive.

"I think we both know that we're better off as friends," I blurted out before the door was even shut behind him. "What happened was a mistake and now we just have to find a way to work together as friends."

Chris looked surprised, which I found surprising, but he recovered quickly and nodded his head. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't bittersweet. I didn't have the energy to argue with him, but part of me was definitely hoping that he'd put up a bit more of a fight.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed after a moment of thought before changing the subject. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I shrugged. "A bit nauseous and very emotional, but nothing I can't handle so far."

"Good, that's good," Chris smiled. "Have you been to a doctor yet?"

"No, not yet. I have an appointment tomorrow."

"Can I-" Chris paused to clear his throat, looking nervous. "Can I come?"

I felt my heart flutter at the thought of him caring enough to want to come to a doctor's appointment, but I shut those feelings down as fast as they popped up. He cared for the baby, not for me.

"Sure," I nodded. "But it won't be very interesting. I think it's mostly just checking all my basic information so they can keep track and probably some blood tests and vitamin recommendations."

"Doesn't matter," Chris insisted. "I want to be there for it all. We're in this together."

Those words brought more tears to my eyes, but I blinked them back and looked away. In a move that I wasn’t expecting, Chris noticed immediately and took the few steps needed to put him right in front of me.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

His hands settled on my arms and the way he rubbed them would have been soothing if it didn't break my heart. How could this supportive, comforting man in front of me right now be the same man who slept with me and then never called me?

"I'm just overwhelmed," I choked out. "We really fucked up, Chris. How could we be so stupid?"

"I don't know," Chris sighed. "It was a dumb mistake, but we can make the most of it. We can do this."

"I know, I know," I took a deep, shaky breath to try and pull myself together. "It's just a lot to take in and I don't think it's really hit me yet."

"It is a lot," he agreed. "Here, let's go sit down."

I let him lead me over to the couch and then flopped down on it. He sat next to me, but we stayed quiet, neither of us really knowing what to say. After a few moments of tense silence, Chris finally spoke.

"I know this might be asking a lot," he started, the hesitation in his voice making me nervous. "But would you consider moving to Massachusetts?"

It wasn't an unexpected request. I knew Chris was happier there and considered it his home and I had told him how tired I was getting of living in Los Angeles. It was probably the better place for raising a child as well. I'd heard plenty of stories about Chris' childhood and it was pretty idyllic - full of experiences that children growing up in a big city like L.A. didn't often get.

However, it meant that I would have to leave my entire support system behind. All my friends and my family would be here and I would be completely alone except for Chris - who I wasn't even in a relationship with - and a child - who was hardly going to be able to provide much emotional support.

It seemed like the best option for everyone involved except for me and I wasn't sure that was a sacrifice that I was selfless enough to make.

I realized how long his words had been hanging in the air between us as I got lost in my thoughts and my head fell into my hands with a groan.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this," I whined, tears filling my eyes again as I felt a strange mix of emotions There was plenty of regret and with that came guilt because this poor child deserved a mother that didn't dread it's existence. "I'm not mom material, Chris. I don't have the instincts."

"It's all still fresh," he reminded me. "The instinct isn't instant. But I didn't mean to upset you, if you don't want to move to Massachusetts then we'll figure it out."

"No, no, it makes the most sense," I sniffled, lifting my head to look back up at Chris. "It's just scary. I don't want to leave my family and friends and I'll have to move soon if I'm going to so I can find a doctor, it's a lot to think about right now."

"It is, but I can ask Carly about a doctor. My family will support you one hundred percent."

I forced a weak smile, but I felt more nerves bubbling in my stomach.

"Have you told them?" I asked. "Does your mom hate me? I hope she doesn't think I'm trying to take advantage of you."

"No way!" Chris insisted with a chuckle. "She gave me a very stern lecture about being responsible, but I've talked about you enough for her to know you're not some crazed fan looking for a payout."

"That's good." I breathed out a sigh of relief. I knew he was incredibly close with his mother and I didn't want her to think badly of me. "I haven't told anyone yet, except Hannah."

"Downey's gonna kill me, isn't he?"

He shot me a sheepish look as he spoke, but I shook my head.

"Nah, I think he'll be thrilled. He loves babies and he's been teasing me about us getting together since the night we met," I informed him, watching his face for a reaction to that statement. There wasn't any. "He'll probably have a bet to cash in on as soon as I tell him the news."

"Well, that's reassuring," Chris smiled. "I think we'll have enough people who'll be mad at us..."

He was clearly referring to his fans and I cringed.

"What are you going to do about that?"

He shrugged.

"What do you want me to do?"

I took a moment to think before I answered him.

"I don't want you to publicly deny that the baby is yours," I warned him, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to bear hearing that even if I knew that he really had no doubts. "But I don't care if you don't make a big announcement. We can just let people draw their own conclusions."

"Making a statement might be better. It would stop the rumours from getting out of hand. There'd be an uproar, but it would eventually die down," he pointed out. "I'll talk to my team and let you know, but you should probably make all your social media private whatever we decide."

I didn't use social media much and I definitely never posted pictures of Chris, but even so I'd felt the wrath of his fans more than once after we were spotted out together so I knew how they could be.

I nodded in response to his instructions and another silence settled between us.

My mind was racing with questions that I wanted to ask. I wanted to know why he'd left, why he hadn't called, why he'd even slept with me if he really didn't see me that way. Part of me even wanted to cry and plead with him to give me a chance, to let me show him that I was good enough to be more than a friend, but I knew I couldn't handle the rejection. Whatever his explanation would be, it wouldn't change the situation and with everything else we had to deal with, I didn't have the strength for more heartbreak too.

-

When Chris left almost an hour later, we had a firm plan in place.

I would try to get out of my lease - or Chris would pay whatever fee I was charged for breaking my contract - and I would move to Massachusetts by the end of the summer to stay with him. I'd argued that point at first, but his reasoning made sense. He would be in and out once they started filming the last two Avengers movies so I would have the place to myself a lot, but when he was home he'd be able to help with the baby. After the first year, when the newborn phase was done, I would get my own place and we'd work out an official custody agreement.

He promised to come to as many doctor's appointments as he could and offered to pay for absolutely everything that I needed. I assured him that wouldn't be necessary, but I appreciated that he was already committed. Many men probably would have run for the hills in our situation or, at the very least, demanded a paternity test before they made any promises, but Chris was enthusiastic and supportive and I couldn't ask for anything more.

Well, I wanted to ask for something more. I wanted us to be together - I wanted us to be making plans to be a family, not to be co-parents - but I knew that wasn't what he wanted and I was determined to accept that. I needed to focus on counting my blessings and being grateful for what I did get out of our relationship instead of focusing on what was missing and unobtainable.

Even if it broke my heart and hurt me more than the loss of any other romantic relationship I'd ever had, I was going to make the most of it for the sake of our child. It didn't ask to be born into such a messy situation and it's safety and security were quickly becoming the most important things in my life despite the fact that it was hardly more than a bundle of cells at that point.

And as that thought hit me, I realized that maybe I wasn't as lacking when it came to maternal instincts as I had thought.

-

@maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker

[appleciders]

Rachel + Leah + Water, the Director’s Cut!

Okay, so I made this gifset exploring Rachel and Leah and the ocean, but because there’s a ten gif limit and a major point of gifsets is for them to look nice, I had to sacrifice a lot of the behind the scenes thoughts and initial versions that came along the way. I still wanted to talk about them though, because I found a lot of them really cool, so I figured I’d stick all that in this post. It’s gonna get long, so you can find the rest under the cut!

So first up, we have Leah as we first see her in the water. (I’m using shitty screenshots because tumblr has a 2mb limit for gifs on text posts and I don’t feel like compressing these down lmao.) Here, she’s face-down, unconscious, floating on a fragment of the plane. This is the first time we see any of the girls in the water.

As Leah gives her dramatic speech talks to the detectives, we see flashbacks to the girl’s lives pre-island. There we see that one of them already has a very strong relationship with the water already, in her before-life: Rachel.

Rachel, as we know, is a diver. We see her take a magnificent tumble into the pool, but when she surfaces, her coach is sternly head-shaking. She corrects Rachel’s form, and after she walks away, Rachel echoes the correction, clearly frustrated with herself. 

Back to Leah. We next see Leah waking up on her lil chunk of flotsam. When she realizes what the hell’s going on, she does what we all would do and starts screaming in terror.

Her panic gets interrupted by Jeannette’s classic Raise Your Glass ringtone. (This was my alarm for two years in high school, and when I watched this for the first time I did have an out-of-body experience). She swims her way over to the Hello Kitty suitcase and—irrationally—unzips it, but we’ll cut her some slack because she’s in some serious shock. As she tries to get the phone, it slips through her fingers and starts spiraling down to the bottom of the ocean. She dives after it.

Unfortunately, she quickly runs out of air and has to give up. She then spots Jeannette floating nearby, checks her out, judges her to be “just a little roughed up,” and then sees land and has a big oh-thank-fuck moment. Because we saw Gretchen’s team placing all of the girls, we know that Linh and Leah were the only two that were put out in the open water. The other girls were put in the beach, or, in Martha’s case, near the shore. This was probably done to quell some of Leah’s suspicions about the crash, but it does give me a couple questions about how they got the other girls wet—did they hose them all down? Pour a couple buckets over their heads? Bob each of them up and down a couple times in a big net like fries in a fryer?? 

Anyway, not important. 

Next that we see, Leah has pulled Jeannette/Linh in from the water. (My Australian parents, who can never pass up an opportunity to give ocean safety tips, chimed in at this point in our first watch to say “See how she’s doing it! You always want to hold someone from behind and pull them in that way. Good job, well done.” So there’s some approval for you, Leah.) As Leah nears the shore, Dot and Toni come tearing in and they help pull the two of them out. 

The rest of the episode after that really only concerns fresh water—Toni and Shelby set out in search of it, to no avail, and Nora helpfully plugs Diet Coke reminds us multiple times that sugar’s heavier than water, so “sugar sinks.” We do set up a goal for the next couple episodes, though: Rachel says, “I'm gonna swim out to the plane tomorrow. See if I can find anything,” and Leah volunteers to come with. Rachel gives her a nod of respect.

Moving on to episode two, we have Rachel and Leah’s (iconic) first real conversation. Rachel says she’s still going out to the wreckage. Leah looks out and looks back at her, incredulous, and says, “Rachel, the water’s insane.” Here’s a big recurring association—the water and “insanity.” (I use insanity here because that’s the language they use, along with psycho/crazy. In no way does that reflect my actual beliefs about their behavior nor am I condoning the way they use those words.) Leah points out the rip current (“well done,” said my mum), and explains her very brief stint as a norcal surfer. Rachel still looks set on going, but then Leah says:

Turns out, Leah can be as ripe with foreshadowing as Fatin. This marks the appearance of their second main association with the ocean—death. After she says this, Leah turns Rachel’s attention inland, and the two agree to climb a big hill to scope out their situation.

Episode two is also obviously Rachel’s episode, so we see a lot of her relationship with diving. 

We see her plunge over and over and over again, drilling technique and form, but despite all her hard work, we learn her coach advised her to quit the team. Instead, Rachel throws herself in twice as hard, and ends up with an eating disorder. By the time the nationals come around, she’s too physically weak to dive safely, and she ends up hitting her head as she goes down. She surfaces in the pool with blood flowing around her.

She refuses to see that as the end of her diving career. She says she’s gonna “get back out there” and “be fucking great again” and she tells Nora at the end of the episode that she needs her to let her believe that.

In episode three, we finally see Leah and Rachel’s trip out to the plane! Nora comes along with them, her relationship with Rachel smoothed over after the events of ep two. “Nora’s a good swimmer,” Rachel explains as she invites her, “We were both water babies.” Water’s clearly been central to Nora and Rachel’s identities since they were really young. 

The three of them make their escape from the rest of the girls as the topic of building a shelter comes up. “Not interested in putting down roots!” Rachel calls. In keeping with the elements theme, Rachel isn’t looking to be grounded. She climbs super high into the air and she dives deep into the water, but earth isn’t her thing. (See: the quicksand scene. Whoops.)

Anyway, the three of them paddle out into the water. Rachel dives down, scopes out the plane, tells Nora she doesn’t expect her to “fucking free dive in open water,” and then looks to Leah and asks if she’s ready. Leah reluctantly agrees. 

We get our first shot Rachel swimming down into the ocean and our second shot of Leah (first the phone, second the plane). In the wreckage of the plane, they discover the black box, affixed to the wall. They keep trying to wrench it free, but it’s stuck, and Leah—who’s primary activity is, like, reading—keeps having to surface for air. Rachel gets frustrated and grabs her leg, holding her down. 

Leah screams and fights, but Rachel doesn’t let go. We cut away, and when we see them again, they’ve emerged victorious (Rachel) and drowned as dogs after a bath (Leah and Nora) with the black box in hand. Later, Leah mutters the above line to Fatin, calling Rachel a “psychopath.” For those keeping score at home, here’s where we refer back to the association between water and “insanity.”

In episode four, the ocean benevolently bestows a bag of takis upon Nora, and we have our whole shelter-building shebang. It’s all very land-based until Leah and Fatin go head to head, which ends with Fatin smearing her blood all over Leah’s face. Leah, with her usual flair, strips off her clothes as she walks into the ocean. She stays down there, passively letting the water wash the blood from her face.

This shot parallels a couple things. First, the drifting blood visually parallels Rachel in the pool after her diving injury. Second, we have Rachel staring out at the water where Leah’s disappeared and going, “Man, that is some real Virginia Woolf-type shit.” Dot has no fucking clue what she means, so Fatin interprets: “It means that bitch is crazy. She said you were the psychopath of the group.” Now it’s Leah who’s done something in the water that’s been deemed insane. The water and “insanity;” the water and accusations of insanity within their relationship. 

Those accusations pop up in episode five, but the episode is pretty focused on the inland search for Fatin, and revolves around fresh water, not salt water. (That could be a whole nother post lol.) It’s in episode six where we again see these two return to the ocean. 

Rachel is diving in the ocean! For fun! She’s picking up pretty shells (which granted isn’t the safest thing to do in the pacific, cone snails are not our friends), and she’s grinning, and she’s generally enjoying herself. With the, uh, finale situation, we’re probably not gonna get to see her smile for a bit, which is sad, because she should get to do this more often! This shot visually echoes her diving for the plane and Leah diving for the phone, except she can be in a better mood because there is no end goal. 

So she goes diving, ends up finding a bunch of mussels, gathers ‘em up, and brings ‘em back to camp. They all chow down, but wind up with serious food poisoning. Martha and Toni ring death’s doorbell a couple of times. Rachel blames herself—she’s the one that went swimming out there, she brought the mussels back. Again, we see that connection between the ocean and death.

And that association comes back bright an early in ep seven! The tide surges higher than they’ve ever seen, taking down their shelter and leaving them all scrambling. 

While Leah convinces Fatin that her life is more important than her suitcase, Rachel is left with a decision: help Nora, screaming to her from where she’s clinging to a rock for dear life, or grab the black box. In a move that contrasts Toni’s immediate and unquestioning aid of Martha, Rachel picks the black box. 

After, when they’re debriefing, Nora’s quick to bring it up. She doesn’t hide her hurt. “It happened so fast,” she says, “we all acted irrationally. Like Fatin, who jumped into a rip current to save her toothbrush. Or Rachel, who left me for fucking dead.” I think this counts as a double whammy for the “insanity” and death count—I think “acted irrationally” is as close as Nora gets to calling anyone crazy, and is honestly a better descriptor of all the other instances of “insanity” that we’ve seen, and the ocean was the source of the very real risk to Nora’s life. 

(Honestly, I think Rachel thought she was making a rational choice here—just with some grim fucking calculus. Still, given that nobody’d responded to the black box by then, I think it was a decision fueled by the need to keep hold of hope more than actual rationality.) In a fun contrast to the rest of the episode, it’s Leah that keeps a level head in this situation. 

The rest of the episode is low on water scenes, though Leah’s paranoia about Shelby is fueled by her sneaking off to the water, which could fall under the “insanity” category. It also marks where Nora begins to take an active role in breaking apart Rachel’s fantasy about diving again. 

Ep eight has one of the best montages in a series of great montages, with the playing in the water scene! A plane has seen them, they’re gonna be saved, and they all get to get high and act like kids. 

I have this lingering and probably irrational concern that the entire water play scene is choreographed and that it’s chock-full of foreshadowing. Like I know to some extent they likely were just like “yeah guys go goof off in the water,” but like...the wave pulling Rachel and Nora apart here...I mean.... (Rachel is probably gonna get more blood on Dot in the near future, too. ) That aside, their horseplay gets interrupted when Leah notices some blood on Dot, which Rachel realizes is her own period blood.  

Fatin then chimes in with her ever-gleeful foreshadowing: “Shark week for Rachel.” So while this whole encounter with the water actually seems mostly good for a change, it’s colored by the tie-in to what we know is coming.

In ep nine, reality has set in that rescue isn’t imminent. Everyone’s starving, Leah has started to spiral, and Rachel’s unusually skittish. By the tide’s edge, Nora asks for her help fishing, but Rachel refuses, saying that she’s weak. Nora flicks water at her, and Rachel flinches, clearly scared.

Starvation seems to have triggered Rachel’s trauma around the water leftover from her diving accident. In response, Nora reaches out a hand and says, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Meanwhile, Leah’s spiral has reached critical. She starts ranting about the ocean and the water and pushes past Dot, sprinting into the waves:

And so she’s taken to heart the way they think Jeannette’s body “escaped” the island—the tide—and it’s been spun like cotton candy in her head. She’s right, technically—Jeanette/Linh’s body was moved off the island by boat, and there’s definitely an argument that if they really did all swim out Gretchen’s team would save them, or at least try to. This is also a very real suicide attempt. So it’s kind of a culmination of the threats of death and mental health issues that’ve been wrapped up in the ocean since the start.

On Rachel’s end, Nora has taken her up to a cliff. Rachel calls the whole thing “borderline insane,” walking up when they’re so low on energy, but Nora tells her she needs to make a truce between herself and the water. 

“You’re afraid of it now,” she says, and Rachel replies that, “All it ever did was make me sick.” Nora immediately surges forward to say “That’s not true!” Rachel, incredulous, says, “Isn't this what you want? For me to hang it up? For me to forget the whole fucking diving game?” Nora says, “No. I don't know. I don't want you to forget you.” She then tells Rachel she should dive off the end of the cliff, that she marked it to make sure it’s safe. Rachel says she can’t.

There’s a lot here. First, there’s the first time we’ve seen of Rachel explicitly call herself sick. In episode two, even in a treatment center, she still denies it, says she’s just an athlete who knows what it takes. But now she’s reached a place where she acknowledges her eating disorder—and also probably her recent illness with the mussels—and ties it directly to the water. It’s the reason she’s sick.

Nora’s fear that Rachel will forget herself also just hammers home how central the water has always been to Rachel’s identity. Cutting herself off from the water would be cutting off a core part of herself. (...whoops) And we’ve seen that it does bring her actual joy, when she’s allowed to relax with it, but she’s had such traumatic associations rolled up into it now. Nora doesn’t want Rachel to do diving as a sport anymore, because of how badly it’s hurt her, but she does want Rachel to keep diving and swimming as like, a form of unevaluated personal expression.

At the moment that Rachel’s refusing to jump, she and Nora hear shouts from the mainland. They see Fatin and Dot screaming after Leah. Confused, Nora asks, “Where is she going?” but Rachel understands immediately, with absolute certainty, without needing to be told—“To fucking drown to death.” Seven episodes after Leah called heading into the water a death wish, she’s finally proving it true. Rachel squares her shoulders, takes a few deep breaths, and sprints into a dive. 

Unlike all her other dives high altitude dives we’ve seen her do, this dive isn’t qualified based on aesthetics. This dive matters because of what it will do, not on how it looks. And what it does do is bring her into the ocean, where she needs to be for her friend. So with strong strokes, she swims out towards Leah.

When she reaches her, she takes hold of her, pulls her into her chest from behind. She begins to swim with her back to shore. This rescue directly parallels Leah’s rescue of Linh that we talked about above. It also, as the Out in the Wilds podcast insightfully pointed out, really calls Rachel and Leah’s relationship back to the beginning. Whereas Rachel had initially held Leah down in the water, putting her in danger of drowning, Rachel here pulls her out of the water, saving her from drowning. Together, they make it all the way back to the shore.

Finally (and, like, if you’ve made it all the way down here? bless you. thank you), we have episode ten. The ocean doesn’t really figure into episode ten until the very end. Rachel has had a long episode of healing—she’s happy to be full and she’s in a good place with her sister and things seem to be going pretty okay. She decides to heal her relationship with the water, too. She heads out, telling Nora that she’s “Just gonna float, Nor. Just float.”

Just floating. After all the times we saw her plunging into the water, purposefully, with frustration, with drive, with so much to prove and with so much sacrifice and self-abuse to prove it with, Rachel finally just wants to float. She wants to let herself relax. She wants to let the water carry her.

Of course, that means there has to be, like, a massive marine carnivore waiting to mistake her for a seal.

Visually, this shot really parallels the opening shot of Leah on the fragment of plane. Instead of being face-down, though, she’s face-up, and she’s conscious, just not of the threat from below. 

The shark bites.

In a horrible parallel to Leah’s Virginia Woolf moment and Rachel’s diving accident, we see blood pool in the water. Rachel is pulled under. The girls on the land start screaming and running toward her. We know Rachel doesn’t die, but this is still a near-death experience, one that probably cost her her arm. Leah, covered in dirt and her own blood after crawling out of the pit Nora led her into, can only stand and watch, shocked and horrified.

So that got! Way longer than I meant it to! And honestly most of this was condensed into very concise tags in a post I made a few days ago! But if you made it all the way down here, you’ve now seen everything I wanted to fit into that gifset but couldn’t. Thanks for sticking with me, friend <3

[lumosandnoxwriting]

True Love - George Weasley

Title: True Love Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary: George may have married a girl his dead twin brother may have been in love with at some point but it’s really not what it looks like. A/N: this fic is born out of my hatred for a post I saw a few days ago that said George and Angelina only got together as a way to mourn Fred, and that they would eventually get divorced. Requests are open and feedback is always appreciated!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

George is tiptoeing past Roxanne’s partially opened door to get a glass of water when he hears the little girl call out to him.

“Daddy?”

George stops in his tracks and shuffles over to her door, peeking in the crack. The only light in the room comes from a pink everlasting fire Y/N had produced in a jar for their daughter to use as a night light a few weeks ago. Roxanne is curled up in a ball in her bed, drowning in her fluffy comforter. George and Y/N had tucked her in and kissed her goodnight a few hours ago, so he frowns when he notices that her deep brown eyes are open and blinking up at him.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” George asks as he pushes her door open.

Roxanne sits up a little, reaching out to him. “Can’t sleep.”

George smiles at her grumbly voice, sounding so much like her mother does when she’s tired. He enters her room with a small laugh and takes a seat on the edge of her bed. He strokes her mess of curls they call hair and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Well that’s no good, pumpkin. How can Daddy fix that?”

Roxanne, smiles up at him, leaning back into her pillows. “Can I get a story? Please?” she begs.

George lets out a chuckle. “Of course.” He starts to reach for the copy of The Tales of Beadle the Bard that Y/N had placed on Roxanne’s night stand a few hours ago after she had fallen asleep. But he stops in his tracks when Roxanne grabs his forearm.

“Noo,” she coos quietly. “A story from your head, Daddy.”

George raises his eyebrows and chuckles at her demanding tone. Yep, there is no denying that she is Y/N’s daughter.

“Of course, pumpkin, how silly of me.” He brings his hand that had been reaching for the book back and places it on her cheek. “Any requests, darling? I could always whip out the one about the brave knight who lost an ear in battle.” George winks at his daughter while gesturing towards his missing ear, causing her to giggle.

“No, not that one. You always tell that one,” she teases.

George laughs again, tapping Roxanne on her nose. “Well sorry,” he drawls. “How about the one where the three brave knights rescue the King from the dungeon using their flying stead?” George frowns slightly at the memory of his twin, a pang of sadness in his chest. George gives Roxanne a questioning look when she shakes her head. “What do you wanna hear then, pumpkin?”

“Tell me the story about how you and Mummy fell in love,” she asks, looking up at him hopefully.

George bites his lip, contemplating the idea. Y/N and George had never really told their kids the full story of how they met, considering that it was pretty questionable. All they had told Roxanne and Fred ii is that they had been friends while at school, and a few years after graduation they met again and fell in love. They never mentioned the fact that Y/N used to date Fred.

“Well sweetie you know that story. Mummy and I went to school at Hogwarts together, and went our separate ways after graduation and then we got together a few years after,” George explains, trying to dodge the question.

Roxanne rolls her eyes. “That’s the short version. I wanna hear the whole thing. Please Daddy?”

George sighs, he can’t resist her pleas. “Alright, pumpkin. I guess our story begins on the morning of May 3rd, 1998.”

-

George is sitting on the ground next to Fred’s body, mostly alone. There are groups of people scattered around the Great Hall, some mourning the loss of their loved ones, others waiting for Madam Pomfrey and the other Healers that arrived from St. Mungo’s to help them. Everyone seems to be leaving George alone, allowing him to spend a few more fleeting moments with his twin.

He’s looking down at his hands, tears streaming down his face, so he doesn’t realize that someone has joined him until she speaks.

“Hey, George,” Y/N speaks quietly, voice shaking.

George looks up at the sound of her voice. Y/N is sitting on the ground too, on Fred’s other side, tears streaming down her face. She’s covered in dirt and blood and George can’t imagine that he looks any better.

“Hey, Y/N,” he mutters after he clears his throat. His throat feels raw, probably from a mixture of the crying and the fact that he hadn’t spoken in a few hours.

George watches as Y/N stares intently at Fred’s face, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek. They’re quiet for so long that George jumps slightly when Y/N speaks up.

“It’s been years since anything has happened between us and yet I still feel,” she cuts off abruptly to let out a few sobs.

Y/N begins to cry harder and George places a hand over the one she has placed on Fred’s chest. He squeezes her hand tightly, wishing there was more he could do to make her feel better.

-

“Mummy used to be with Uncle Fred?” Roxanne asks, pulling George out of his thoughts. Roxanne and Fred ii had heard many stories about their dear Uncle Fred from both of their parents and various other family members throughout their lives. But George and Y/N made a point to make sure that no one ever mentioned her past with Fred. Not because she was ashamed at the fact that she had once been with Fred, but because she didn’t want to confuse them.

George nods, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “Many, many years ago, they were together. Back when we were at Hogwarts. Your Uncle Fred and I met your Mum when we were all in our first year at Hogwarts. You know we were all in the same house and played on the Quidditch team together. You’ve heard Uncle Harry talk about the Triwizard tournament, right?” George waits for Roxanne to nod before continuing. “We were all in our sixth year when that happened and there was this great huge ball on Christmas called the Yule Ball. Uncle Fred asked your Mum to be his date, and they dated for a few months afterwards.”

Roxanne purses her lips, thinking about what her father has just said. “And when Uncle Fred died, Mummy still loved him?”

“Not exactly,” he answers.

Roxanne groans and rolls her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

George rolls his eyes playfully. “Maybe if you hadn’t interrupted my story you would know by now,” he teases.

Roxanne sticks out her tongue playfully but doesn’t say anything else.  

“So, I guess our story continues in June of 1999.”

-

“Hey George. The store looks great,” Y/N speaks, shocking George. He turns around from where he had been stocking a shelf, a smile appearing on his face when he sees the familiar girl standing in front of him.

George hasn’t seen Y/N since the day they cried together over Fred’s body. He heard that she came by his funeral briefly, but he hadn’t seen her himself. Now, a little over a year later here she is, and George can’t help but think how beautiful she is. Her hair frames her face perfectly, and she is smiling warmly at him.

“Hey, Y/N. Thanks, it’s definitely getting there. Not quite back at its prime but, it definitely will be soon,” he says wistfully, looking around the shop.

After Fred’s death he hadn’t been able to step back into the store he had started with his brother. It hurt too much, and it almost felt wrong to go back to work without his partner in crime. The store had always been their dream, and George didn’t think he could carry on without Fred. He spent the first six months after Fred’s death moping around The Burrow, spending most of his time in bed, alone.

Everyone in the family had been patient with him, all of them taking time to grieve as well. Until one night, Molly sat him down and with as much love as possible told him that enough was enough. She had reminded him that Fred wouldn’t want George to throw away their dream just because he couldn’t be there with him. That the best way to honor his brother would be to carry on making their dream a reality. George, realizing his mother was right, had started planning new products that very evening.

He spent the next 5 months after that developing new products and perfecting them. 2 months ago, he finally plucked up the courage to enter the abandoned shop for the first time and started to put it back together. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had officially been open again for 2 weeks and running the store has made George the happiest he’s been in months.

“Every time I would come to Diagon Alley I’d check to see if the store was open again, and I’m glad it is. If there’s anything people need these days it’s some Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Y/N says with a laugh.

There had been mass celebrations after Voldemort’s defeat, but so many lives had been lost that they were short lived, and the wizarding community had needed to slowly heal. Things had been getting back to normal, Diagon Alley was just as busy as it had been before, and George could hear happy voices and laughter every time the door to the shop opened.

George chuckles. “A bit of mischief makes everyone feel better. Things have been crazy since I reopened, I can barely keep up on my own.” He gestures towards the shelf he had been restocking when she came in, and the other various shelves that were missing products. “I never realized how much work it was, it was way easier when there was two of us. Between selling the products, making them and stocking them I’m exhausted,” he admits with a small laugh.

“I didn’t want to say it but, you look exhausted,” she teases, smiling at him playfully. “That’s um, kinda why I came in. I mean I obviously came in so I could see you,” she admits, blushing. “But also, I was wondering if you were hiring? I’ve been working freelance for The Daily Prophet but it’s not enough to keep me busy.”

George tries not to let his surprise show on his face. Y/N had always been supportive of George and Fred’s antics, but had never wanted to actively participate. George scratches the back of his head like he’s thinking about her offer, not wanting to seem too eager. “Yeah actually, that would be great. I could really use the help. I’ll have to get some references of course. Make sure you’re not too difficult to work with,” he teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes, playfully shoving George’s shoulder. “We got paired together in potions one-time years ago and you’re still giving me shit about it, Weasley? Unbelievable.”

-

“Mummy used to work with you? Before Uncle Ron did?” Roxanne asks, interrupting the story again.

George hums as he nods. Once Ron quit the Aurors office and came to work with George Y/N had left. Her and George were beginning to start their family, and she wanted to be a stay at home mum. She started writing again as well and had become a pretty successful children’s book author in the wizarding world.

“Yup. Uncle Ron used to work with Uncle Harry at the ministry, before you and your brother were born. So, your Mummy helped out at the shop, and then me and Mummy got married and decided to have your brother, so Uncle Ron decided to quit his job and work with me,” George explains.

Roxanne has a bewildered look on her face, like she had never thought about the fact that all the people she loves had lives before she was born. “So how did you and Mummy get together then? Fall in love?”

George chuckles. “I’m getting there, missy, don’t you worry about it.”

-

Y/N had only been working for George for a few weeks when he realized he had a huge problem. He was developing feelings for her. He had always found her attractive, but when Fred expressed interest in her during their fourth year he pushed those thoughts away. He was always the more reserved twin and doubted that he would ever act on those feelings anyway.

But now that they’ve been spending so much time together and working together so closely he can’t help but feel those things again. She’s just as beautiful has she had been back at school but there was so many other things too.

Her smile was so bright that it could light up the whole shop. She was always there to offer him a warm smile and a helping hand, staying late into the night to help him restock shelves or coming in on the weekends to help make a new stock for the upcoming week. She was always sending him little winks too throughout the day as they worked. While she was upselling a product to someone, or when he just seemed down and needed a pick me up, all he had to do was look over to her and she’d give him a reassuring wink.

And it certainly didn’t help that she was so damn good at her job. She was always helping him to arrange the store in the best way possible, moving around displays and finding new, exciting ways to showcase their range of products. She was so good with the customers too, always able to help someone, their customers always raved to George about how amazing she was as they checked out.

And her touch, it sent electric waves shooting down his spine. Whether it was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulders as he stirred a new potion late at night, or a hand on his back as she passed behind him his brain seemed to short circuit whenever they came in contact with each other.

It didn’t help that her presence had begun to creep into other parts of his life as well. She had only been working there a few days when Molly popped in to see how things were going. His mum had been so excited to see Y/N and invited her to dinner at The Burrow that night; since then it has become a weekly occurrence. He’s bumped into her at The Burrow more than once during the weekends as well, her and Ginny flying around each other and passing a Quaffle back and forth.

“Morning, George!” Y/N calls as she pushes through the shop door.

George jumps at the sound of her voice, not expecting to see her. It’s early on a Sunday morning, and George figured he’d be alone in the shop all day to catch up on the things they hadn’t finished the night before.

George stands up from where he had been kneeling behind the counter, trying to count out the safe, but mostly thinking of the girl who just entered the store. He smiles as she bounds up to the counter.

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he stutters, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “But you were here late last night, I didn’t think you’d come in today.”

Y/N smiles at George, taking off her bag and placing it on the counter. “Well we didn’t finish everything last night, did we? You’ll actually be able to go out and enjoy your day if we’re both here working.” George gives her a look, prompting her to continue. “Besides I don’t mind being here all the time. I like being here.”

George’s smile fades, figuring that Y/n likes being here so much because it reminds her of Fred. They haven’t talked about that morning, when she had practically declared her love for his dead brother as they both cried, and George doesn’t plan on bringing it up.

He’s brought out of his deep thoughts as she passes by him, her hand brushing his arm and sending electric shocks up to his neck. He clears his throat to try and get rid of the lump in it. “Well thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem! What do you need me to do boss?”

George looks to the to-do list he had made after closing on Friday. Well the to-do list Y/N had made for him; she really was a huge help around the shop. Even if she did distract him from his work from time to time.

“Well looks like the next thing up on the list is,” he pauses, suddenly nervous. “Next thing up is to restock the love potions. But uh, I checked in the back earlier and we’re all out, so you’ll need to brew up a new batch.”

Y/N nods, heading towards the storeroom to grab the needed ingredients. “Yeah I can do that, no problem.” She pokes her head back through the door. “Or are you still hung up on that whole potions thing and don’t trust me?”

George laughs with her, his nervousness melting away at her playful tone. “Just get to work, yeah?”

With Y/N out of sight George is able to get back to work, and he had forgotten that she was there. That was until she interrupted him while he was stocking the shelves, causing him to shout and drop all of the Skiving Snackboxes he had in his arms.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Forgot you were here,” he says with a nervous laugh, his cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. He turns to face her, glancing at the cauldron in her hands. “What’s up?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you Georgie,” she says with a laugh, causing George’s knees to quiver at the nickname. “I haven’t made a potion in ages, let alone Amorentia. Just wanted to see if you could check it? Make sure I did it right.”

“Yea, ‘course,” George says quietly, leaning close to look at the potion. He stirs it with the silver spoon, checking to make sure the consistency is right. He’s a little nervous, leaning in so close to Y/N that he momentarily forgets what Amorentia does. “Forgot to mention, but that new perfume you’ve been wearing smells really good.” Y/N gasps, taking a small step back. George looks up at her. “What?”

“Thanks but um. I’m not wearing any perfume today,” she stutters out, refusing to meet George’s eyes.

George is about to question her, since he definitely just smelled her perfume, when it dawns on him. He wasn’t smelling her perse, but the Amorentia smelled like her to him. And he just admitted that.

“Look, Y/N I. I,” but he trails off, unsure of what to say. He opens his mouth to say something else but is stopped by Y/N stepping close to him and pressing a hard kiss to his lips. It lasts just long enough for George to grip her waist and for Y/N’s hands to tangle in his hair. Just as quickly as she had kissed him her lips were gone and they were just staring at each other.

She opens her mouth to speak, but when nothing comes out she closes it again. And before George knows it she’s rushing towards the counter to grab her bag. “I should go. Yeah I should go. I’ll see you later,” she rambles. And before George can blink again the door is shutting behind her.

-

“So, Mummy kissed you first!” Roxanne says excitedly when George stops talking.

“What? Like it’s surprising?” George scoffs with a chuckle.

Roxanne shrugs her shoulders, playfully smiling at him. “I mean have you seen how pretty Mummy is? And you’re, well you’re alright I guess.”

George can tell that she’s teasing him, and as payback he tickles her sides, causing her to shriek with laughter.

“Shhh,” he whispers, realizing just how late it is. “We don’t want to wake your brother up, or your Mummy.”

Roxanne nods, taking a few deep breaths to settle down. “So, what happens next? You and Mummy kiss and then what?”

-

George is still horrified about what happened the next morning as he opens the shop. He’s exhausted, having stayed up most of the night finishing everything on his list. It shouldn’t have taken him that long, but he kept getting distracted, thinking of how Y/N’s lips felt on his.

He’s about to grab the door handle so he can unlock it and officially open up when the door swings open and Y/N is walking through it. They collide, and George instinctively reaches out and grabs her around the waist so she doesn’t fall to the ground.

A moment later he realizes what he did and he lets go, stepping back. His cheeks are red and he rubs his neck sheepishly. “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t think you’d come in today so I was just. Sorry, sorry.”

Once he finishes his rambling he turns on his heel and practically runs towards the counter, not even daring to glance at Y/N. But he can hear her footsteps following behind him and when he turns around she’s standing at the counter, an apologetic look on her face.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, Georgie. I shouldn’t have ran out on you like that. And I shouldn’t have kissed you that was… well anyway, I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

George opens his mouth to respond, but the door to the shop swings open and Y/N is off to help the few customers who came in.

“You need help with anything?”

George looks up from the papers on his desk to see Y/N poking her head into his office. They haven’t spoken since their weird moment this morning, and after the afternoon rush George excused himself to his office to work on paperwork while Y/N stocked some shelves and made up a new display. But that must have been hours ago now, as the sliver of shop George can see over Y/N’s head looks dark.

“Just been going over the books. Well trying to at least,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “I let Fred do it the last time. Well no, I didn’t let him, he insisted on it. Some crap about how he needed to know how to do it. But boy was listening to him a mistake,” he admits with a sad chuckle. “I can’t make out half of what he wrote and the half I can is completely wrong.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything, but gives him a sad look. George feels awkward in the silence, so he continues to ramble on.

“And I wanna be mad at him, for not taking it seriously but. Then I get mad at myself for feeling that way. And then I feel sad because he’s not here for me to just ask him what the hell it says and then I try and figure it out and get mad when I can’t and it’s just a vicious cycle.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything right away, trying to choose her words carefully. She comes into his office and takes a seat at one of the chairs across from George’s desk. George runs his hands through his hair again, silently pleading that she says something. A few more quiet moments pass before Y/N speaks.

“That sounds. Well frankly that sounds like hell. But it’s okay to feel like that, you know. It’s okay to be mad at Fred. It’s okay to feel whatever you want towards Fred, that’s a normal part of grieving, George,” she explains, leaning forward in her chair.

“So, years will go by and I’ll still feel,” George mumbles almost without thinking. He casts his eyes downward, not wanting to look Y/N in the eyes or see the expression on her face.

A pink blush flushes Y/N’s face. “You, um, remember that then? You never mentioned it, so I figured you forgot about it, or maybe never even heard it. I was kinda hoping that you never even heard it.”

George looks up at her then, staring deeply into her eyes. “Is that why you came into the shop that day? Why you started working here? So, you could feel closer to Fred? Is that why you kissed me?” His last question is quieter, practically a whisper. He feels ashamed as soon as he asks, he wants to take it back.

But then Y/N lets out a laugh, shocking George. He looks at her quizzically. “What? Are you laughing at me?”

Y/N shakes her head no, but continues to laugh, almost as if she can’t stop herself. It takes what feels like an eternity for her laughter to die down, and once it does she scoots closer to George, reaching out to touch his hand.

“That day, when we were sitting there in the Great Hall, I wasn’t talking about still feeling love for Fred. I never really loved Fred. Not in that way at least.”

George is taken aback by that. “What do you mean?”

“Georgie, Fred and I dated for like 4 months when we were 16. It was nice to have someone to go to Hogsmeade with or carry my books and it was fun spending time with Fred but I wasn’t in love with him. And Fred knew that, that’s why we broke things off.”

George looks at Y/N. He’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’s still so confused about everything. “So, what the hell were you talking about that day? Because I sure as hell thought you were talking about still being in love with Fred.”

Y/N bites her lip, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I was talking about feeling guilty, George.”

George suddenly pushes away from his desk, beginning to pace back and forth. “Feeling guilty for what, then?”

“Feeling guilty for being in love with his twin brother!” Y/N admits suddenly, causing George to stop in his tracks.

“Come again?” he asks, looking down at Y/N. His eyes follow her as she stands up and walks over to him.

“I was never in love with Fred. And after we broke up I started to fall in love with you. But I never acted on it because I felt guilty. I knew Fred had strong feelings for me, so I never tried to act on my feelings for you. And that day, when I saw you in the Great Hall, even though it had been years all of those feelings came rushing back. How I felt for you, how guilty I felt for feeling those things. That’s why I came over there that day, because I wanted to see you, make sure you were okay. And I hoped that saying goodbye to Fred would make me feel okay to try and approach you.”

Suddenly it dawns on George. “That’s why you came to his funeral, then? To put those guilty feelings to rest once and for all.”

Y/N nods, taking one of George’s hands in hers. “That’s why I didn’t stay long. The second I saw you I wanted to run into your arms and kiss you. But I figured that was probably not the right time or place to fling myself at you.”

George laughs, trying to imagine what he would have done if Y/N had done that. He uses his free hand to reach up and cup Y/N’s cheek. “So that day you came into the shop, it was to see me?”

Y/N rolls her eyes but nods. “I said that, didn’t I dummy? That I came into the shop to see you. I would make excuses to head to Diagon Alley nearly every day to check to see if the shop was open. It took me two weeks to get the courage to actually walk in once you opened back up. And truth be told-“ she stops, letting her gaze drop to the floor. “I didn’t really need a job. I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Suddenly so many things started making sense to George. “So that’s why you would stay in late? Come in on days off?”

Y/N nods. “And why I agreed to come to dinner at The Burrow every week, and why I agreed to help Ginny with her Quidditch training.”

“Not to keep the memory of my dead brother alive?” George asks, almost unable to believe everything he’s heard. Y/N shakes her head. “But to be close to me, because you’re in love with me?”

Instead of nodding Y/N grabs George’s face and brings their lips together in a heated kiss. George is frozen for a moment, his brain trying to catch up with what’s going on. Once it does he kisses Y/N back hungrily, his hands gripping her hips tightly. They kiss for a few moments before Y/N pulls away breathless.

-

“And that was that. Your Mum and I got together and the rest is history.”

George stops with his story, waiting for Roxanne to say something. When she doesn’t he looks down, a smile spreading across his face when he notices her eyes have fluttered closed and she’s breathing slowly. He presses a kiss to her forehead and tucks her blanket around her tighter.

He’s closing her door behind him quietly when he runs into his wife, nearly shouting at the scare she gave him.

“Bloody hell, how long have you been standing there, love?” he asks, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“Long enough to hear you spill all of our dark secrets,” she responds with a quiet laugh.

George frowns. “Are you mad? I know we said we wouldn’t tell them, but you know I can’t resist her puppy eyes, just like how I can’t resist yours.”

Y/N doesn’t answer him, choosing to press a kiss to his lips instead. Y/N buries her hands in George’s hair as he deepens their kiss, his hands squeezing her hips tightly. They both can’t help but be reminded of the kiss they shared all those years ago that George had just finished recounting.

“Why did you get out of bed anyway, hm? You were sound asleep when I went to get my water,” George asks a few minutes later when they’re back in bed.

Y/N shrugs, snuggling up into George’s side. “You were gone for ages. Thought maybe you were sneaking some of those chocolate chip cookies I made, wanted to catch you in the act. ”George laughs, throwing an arm around his wife and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“So, you weren’t lying in bed awake, thinking of my dead brother?” he jokes with a chuckle.

Y/N smacks him on the chest lightly, laughing along with him. “You’re lucky I love you, Weasley.”

“You’re right, my love. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

[keldabika]

Hey yo! :D For the requests: how about a vld post-canon fanfic in which the reader helps Lance to move on, while still remembering Allura with respect and fond memories, which ends up in a sweet love confession? :3 If you need more details, please don’t hesitate to ask. Thanks, and have a good day!

[Lance McClain] “Under The Sun”

———————————————————————

“It’s been quite awhile now, I wonder when Lance is coming home?”

You pondered without so much as a doubt that he’d be back eventually, but you were a bit worried about your long-time best friend. It was late into the summer evening now, and the gradient dark blue was only just beginning to peek over the horizon. He was out late far more often now, though you supposed it was because Allura’s death had hit him hard, but you were in disbelief in seeing the usually peppy and flirtatious boy so…. depressed. It was heartbreaking to witness.

Staring out the farmhouse window, you watched the tall grass sway in the fields beyond and the slight breeze ruffle through the distant image of an apple orchard. The sun was nearly set by now, and soon the stars would be clear in the sky—a constant reminder of the paladins journey across the galaxy.

Knowing that there was so much life out there beyond the Earth you knew, you could barely comprehend just how significantly small your life was in comparison. You hadn’t travelled with the paladins or engaged in conversation with Allura beyond briefings during the Galran invasion, but you understood that the universe they witnessed was oh-so-incredibly vast and endless.

And now you felt oh-so-incredibly lonely in it. You weren’t close with many of the other paladins, besides Hunk and Pidge of course. Shiro had his new husband, Coran was too iffy for your tastes, and Keith…. well he was always off and away. With Altea restored to its rightful glory, commerce and politics between itself and Earth were bustling and swell, never better, and many of the paladins, including Lance from time-to-time, were busy making deals and new friends.

And you felt left out and abandoned because of that. It wasn’t fair that you hadn’t been accepted into the space academy, only because there was a limit to the number of accepted students, and it wasn’t fair Lance left without a single word to you, on some grand adventure for years on end without so much as a word, and it wasn’t fair that you were helpless in all things besides cooking or cleaning or feeding the animals out in the barn, or giving Lance a hug when he needed one, or looking after his siblings while his parents were gone or just—being there. It just wasn’t fair that they’d all experienced so much of life, and you hadn’t done anything in the meantime. Your meagre living was nothing in comparison to their heroism and praise. You felt selfish for thinking this way, so you never voiced your concerns to anybody, especially Lance.

“I wonder what he’d think of me, thinking this way,” you looked out unto the glimmer of stars appearing beyond the clouds, “he’d look at me and think ‘Life is never fair, you should deal with it.’ What a joke.”

You suppose you were satisfied for now with just being able to be near Lance, as a friend and support for when he needed you most, even if he didn’t know it.

“Oh Allura,” stepping outside, your eyes had an even clearer view of the skyline, and the sunset appearing within your vision, and you could almost feel the expanse of the universe looking down upon you, Allura among the vast amount of stars blazing within it, “tell me what I should do to help him. Tell me how I should be there for him, in the same way you were and in ways otherwise. How can I make him happy now you’re gone?”

Of course, you would never receive an answer beyond a pregnant silence, and the echo of your own voice over the hills and through the house where the children were asleep. You kept your eyes on the stars, hoping they’d give you some form of sign, an astrological message that could guide you, a vision of some kind, but there was only emptiness, the soft yet visible twinkle of each individual sun, burning lightyears away.

Sigh. You really should’ve expected this you suppose.

“Speaking to the sky, I’m selfish and an idiot!”

You gripped your [H/c] hair and yanked it downwards, chanting ‘idiot’ over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer, hoping it would relieve some of your many frustrations, until you heard a small sound from a hay bale around the side of the house, near an old trough used to store feed.

“Hello? Anybody there?”

Silence was all that answered at first, but then a small series of whimpers came from the area. You grabbed a pitchfork and slowly made your way over to the bale, creeping closer and bringing the pitchfork up to your chest, ready to strike.

“AAAAAAAAAAH!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

A terrified Lance dunked himself into the trough, getting his backside stuck before tipping it over and having it land on top of him while attempting to crawl away.

“Dios mío [Y/n], you scared me!” Lance stood up and dusted off his jacket and pants, rubbing at his eyes and making an awful attempt at hiding his face away from your sight.

“Well I’m sorry, oh merciful Lord Lance, but you being secretive and not answering me when I asked has a lot to do with that.”

He looked away from you for a further moment before responding.

“Well, I uh…. just wanted to be alone for a minute y’know? All my siblings and family n’ stuff, kind of makes my back stiff and mind numb from time-to-time.”

You watched solemnly as he tried to laugh it off, sitting back down on the edge of the trough, head leaning in his hands and staring off into the distance, obviously bothered by something. You were curious, but you didn’t have any right to pry if he didn’t want to tell you first. You’d respect his wishes if he really did just want to be alone.

“Well, alright then,” you smiled softly at him, forcing yourself off your knees and turning around to head back inside, “if you want to talk, I’ll be back inside. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

You began to walk away, adamant on getting back upstairs to the comfort of your bed and laying awake all night, when you felt a small weight on the back of your shirt. Lance’s hand had managed to grasp the fabric while you were walking away, and though you turned around to ask him why, he had barely moved from his position on the trough, only gazing at you with unshed tears in his eyes.

“Can you stay for a moment,” he pleaded, “please? It’ll only take a minute [Y/n], I swear.”

‘Allura give me strength’ you thought, letting out an exasperated sigh and seating yourself beside him on the ledge, barely glancing at him again, preferring to turn your sights to the horizon once more. You knew it’d be another nightly session of listening to his fears and sorrows, meanwhile drowning in your own self-doubt and anxieties. This also meant that tomorrow you’d wake up questioning your worth again, comparing yourself to the woman you’d come to respect and admire, and a woman who was now gone off to the afterlife, long before you.

“Tell me what’s up Lance. What’s eating away at you this time tonight, huh? Lemme guess, is it your girlfriend again?”

You watched as Lance fiddled with a piece of straw, rolling it back and forth between his palms, keeping his gaze on the sunset ahead.

“No,” he muttered, “more of an apology really.”

You nearly did a spit take, staring at him like he was a chicken with two heads. You never thought you’d be hearing an apology from the Casanova himself, let alone one aimed at you. Usually he was too cocky to have second thoughts.

“Sheesh Lance, what’s gotten into you? Did your mom finally drill some manners into that peabrain of yours?”

You jokingly put him in a headlock and started ruffling his hair, Lance desperately trying to remove your arm so he could fix his ruined part.

“[Y/n] c’mon! I styled my hair hours ago, I nearly kept it perfect for the whole day!”

He began running his fingers through his hair to put it back in place. Concentrating on perfecting it once more.

“Oh Lance, what kind of farmer like you needs styling gel? It gets greasy in a couple minutes anyways so why even bother.”

“It’s the thought that counts [Y/n]!”

You snorted as he huffed at you, the two of you quipping at each other reminded you of the days before he left off to the academy. Then you remembered,

“Oh right, the apology. Glad to see you learned some common courtesy, but what’s this all about Lance?”

You really needed answers. He suddenly went quiet and seemed to contemplate something for a moment. He worried you, and he knew it too, that you were expecting an explanation for an apology he probably wasn’t ready to give.

“Well you see [Y/n],” he stared directly at you, “I know that I’ve been down recently, and that you’ve always been…. there, I guess, for me when I needed you to be. And I know that I’ve never even thanked you or given you something in return, and that by using you as a way to escape my own problems, I’ve given you some of your own,”

He stopped for a moment to see if you were still paying attention, and seeing you looking at him with encouragement, he continued,

“I’m so sorry, [Y/n]. Really, I am. I was being dumb like always and pouring out my feelings onto someone who had difficulties of their own to deal with, and I never really thought about how I was hurting you…. I’m sorry. When Allura was here, and I was back out in space, battling alien hordes and saving the galaxy…. I felt like everything was right in the world, and that I was living my best life, being beside all the people I cared about, with friends I could trust. I didn’t realize until later that I completely forgot about you in the process, the best friend I left behind, who mattered maybe even more to me than I thought. I never meant to forget you, and I never meant to hurt you.”

He began to get nervous, losing the cocky persona he developed over the years completely, turning downtrodden and forcing out a final “I hope you can forgive me.”

Then he went quiet.

“….I never hated you, y’know,” you began, finally responding, “I never once despised you for leaving without me. I knew you’d come back someday, when I heard a lion took off from the desert that day, I just didn’t know when.”

You kept going, “If anything, I hated myself sometimes, for being selfish and wanting you to come back sooner, or blaming you in my mind for not taking me with you. It always felt unfair to me, that I was stuck here in a constant cycle of boring life, while you were out patrolling the universe, fighting Galra and going on cool missions-”

“-and nearly dying, like, 50 times!” Lance interrupted.

“….and nearly dying 50 times, yes.”

The sun was nearly gone now, disappearing quickly before you, clocking the time you’d been outside conversing in the summer heat—the pale moon climbing the sky behind you.

The stars shone ever-brighter, and the breeze had settled down, the grass at your feet stamped in and no longer swaying, and the crickets in the field were chirping, with the cows grazing in the meadow below, almost ready to head in for the night.

“I’m jealous Lance. And frustrated. But I never spoke a word of anything to you, because I loved you too much to bother you with any more problems than you already had. Nothings your fault, I was only emotional, and I have no disrespect for any of your friends or partners, including Allura. I only wish that you could’ve been happier.”

Ending your rant, you faced Lance again and shrugged, acting nonchalant, like nothing you said mattered at the moment. But he knew that whatever he said next would make a large impact on you.

“You loved me?”

You relaxed a little, “Still do Lance, never stopped even after you left. But, you came back with a space alien girlfriend, I knew I had to let you go.”

Allura was the light of his life, and he was the happiest you’d ever seen him in the weeks before her death. If she hadn’t needed to make a sacrifice, they would’ve probably grown old and had a life together, a family too, and he would have become the Altean King, with you far out of the picture. The little markings on the ridge of his cheekbones still detailed just how loving of a relationship the two were in. Even after her passing, you wouldn’t make a move when Lance only thought of you as a friend.

Both yourself and Lance were gazing at the sky now, completely silent, and yet there was an underlying comfort in the stillness, one which permeated through the air around you and invited a conversation to be had. Lance seemed to wish to speak in order to break it, scratching at the markings whilst trying to find the words to talk to you.

“Oh quiznak, words are too hard!”

Lance reaches across the trough to grasp the hand you’re using to stable yourself on the ledge, bringing it up to the space between the two of you and wearing the most serious expression you’ve ever seen on his face.

“When I was in third grade, I ran into a small child in the hallway and accidentally spilled their thermos of soup all over the floor. That tiny [H/c] kid became my desk-mate for all of third and fourth grade, and I remember having to give them my baloney sandwich because they wouldn’t stop crying till I did. In fifth grade, that same kid switched our lunchboxes because I had the better pizza pops, and in sixth grade, while taking a math test, they threw up all over the floor and I laughed like crazy; ended up going with them to the office because the teacher ‘didn’t like my attitude’. In seventh grade, I went to their birthday party and popped all the balloons, I stole half the cake and made off with three goodie bags before anyone could catch me. In eighth grade we became friends, and played pranks together on the other students during April fools, tipped an outhouse, and did each others homework because we both sucked at school. When I was in ninth grade, I gave them a Burger King crown and told them they ruled my world…. I know you know who I’m talking about.”

You began laughing the hardest you had in years, looking back on all the memories you and Lance had built up over the years, times when neither of you knew what would happen, and had big dreams and hopes for the future. The future had turned out to be far different from what both of you had expected.

“To be fair Lance, you were the one who threw up during that math test, not me. You cried for your mom all the way through the school and passed out on a couch in the lobby.”

“Shut up [Y/n], I’m attempting to be sentimental!”

When the laughter died down, and the world was quiet again, you gazed down at the entwined hands that rested between you two, and lazily swung them back and forth to see if he’d let go. When he didn’t, you smiled a bit,

“So what, this means your willing to try? To move on from Allura just like that? Forget everything you had with her and stick with me for awhile?”

He smiled brightly at you, as bright as the sun that could barely be seen, the final slivers fading away over the prairie.

“Allura’s not entirely gone,” he taps his markings, “these babies are a constant reminder of that. I’ll never forget the happiness she gave me, but I don’t want to keep dwelling on the fact that she’s gone. You’re here with me, more than anything, and I hope that we could stay this way for as long as we can.”

“I’d like that.”

It’s far too late to keep outside you realize, and the night brings with it a chilling cold that practically freezes your clothes to your skin, and tinges the air with frost. The fall season is coming, and summer is nearly over, and with it comes the colourful leaves, and the frosted grass, and the wilting flowers. You stand up, dragging Lance with you, and dust off the seat of your pants, preparing to head inside to bed.

Now the darkness has settled, the sun is gone. You take your hands and guide Lance around the house to the doorway. The door creaks open and shuts behind the two of you, and as you say your goodnights, you head off to your room. And as the glow of the moon enters through your window, enshrouding the walls in a pale light, you lay there and ponder.

Truly, you hope that you can spend many more days with Lance down in the fields, and with the cows and the tall grass, and out in the apple orchard, where the two of you will lie, down in the top soil, under the sun.

———————————————————————

BONUS:

“[Y/n], know that you’ll always be my Burger Queen.”

“Lance please. Shut the fu*k up.”

———————————————————————

✨ Hope you enjoyed ✨

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Day Two / Part One | Hades

Hey lovelies this isn't completely done (this chapter, I mean) but this was a good spot to post it because it's been a while and I'm proud of this part. The next part will be about the same length (I'm guessing) and will be the long awaited bathtub scene! enjoy, and sorry for how ramble-y this chapter is. It's on purpose LOL!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: PTSD in action on both parts, self-loathing

Word count: 2.7k

Previous | Next

Master List

Maybe saying yes is the wrong answer. It certainly goes against the protocol his commander explicitly told him to follow.

Stay inside, Barnes. Keep the curtains closed, limit the amount of lights on inside the house. Don’t let her out of your sight— not even for a second.

It was all basic, day one things that any rookie would know. Bucky is a lot of things but he isn’t a rookie— he’s been around the block his fair share of times and then some. Still, the last thing his commander had told him rings through his ears as he crosses the threshold of the Wilson’s family residence and feels the sun, warm and steady on his face— and on his one, good arm— for the first time in twenty-four hours.

Be a ghost, Barnes, or you might just become one; you understand me?

Bucky had answered yes, again— obviously. Maybe that’s just a thing he does; saying yes when he doesn’t know what else to say. Saying yes when he should be saying anything but.

But what?

But it’s not like it really matters— there was no other choice that time. He’s a soldier, he was given his orders, and— whether he likes it or not— Bucky always follows his orders.

The door creaks shut behind him, a little loud for his liking but the sound of the willow trees snapping in the yard are enough to drown it out for the most part— Well, Bucky always follows most of his orders.

That was also before everything went straight to hell, though— before no one thought to tell him that he's not dealing with a victim; he’s dealing with a survivor. Fucking military— he should have known they’d leave the important details out. They’ve been shoddy since the forties, always squirreling away information from the little guys. Eighty years later, one hundred and six years old, and he’s still a little guy. No closer to gaining an invite to the big kid table than he was at twenty-six when he still had two good arms. If anything he’s further away now, begging for scraps when there was once a point in his life where he at least had a seat somewhere.

With someone.

Nothing’s changed— nothing will change and he doesn’t expect it to— but this time there’s a difference.

There’s a big one.

It’s the canyon between grief and watching your family get slaughtered in front of you; the insurmountable jump from longing for those you’ve lost and having them ripped away from you so violently that you can’t function. Can’t sleep. Wake up scared. Jump away from every touch, every noise, like every shattered vase is out to personally kill you—

Why the fuck wouldn’t they tell him that the girl he’s supposed to be protecting has PTSD? He may be old— the term may be different now— in his day they used to call it shellshock— but it’s yet another thing that hasn’t changed. Nothing ever changes; not really— not for him.

Soldier.

Scientist.

Same fucking difference— the signs are still the same and she has all of them.

He would know— he should have known from the moment he walked through the door— they should have told him!

He saw the pictures. Saw the scarlet circles and lifeless eyes and blood. Fuck, there was so much blood and that was just a grainy photpgraph from a junky projector! He couldn’t smell it— couldn’t taste it— through the pictures but he has an imagination— well, what’s left of one at least. He can’t say he didn’t leave most of his creativity in those hills of Austria— gods only know he left most of everything else there— but even if he had left all of it he wouldn’t have to dig far for a memory of his own. They don’t tell you as a soldier that fresh blood smells like rotting honey— that it lingers in your clothes and hair and on your goddamn lips for hours.

Soldier.

Shooter.

Fucking psychopath with a gun and one arm and snow still shoved so far down his throat that he can’t breathe—

No, if they don’t bother telling their soldiers then there’s no way anyone thought to tell the cherry pie angel. They probably thought it would ruin her sweetness. They probably didn’t even think to tell her at all. Bucky definitely didn’t. He should have. If he had, maybe he would have been able to catch her before the flies ate through her wings completely. Maybe if he had just done his damn job instead of being sucked in by the sticky marmalade of her laughter then he would have seen the way she was melting right in front of his face. July in Brooklyn does that to a person.

It brings the flies to the cherry pie.

The flies to the rotting honey.

The flies to too fucking late— he had twenty-four hours and instead of doing something he just let her sink. Some guard dog he is.

Bucky watches as she gingerly sits on the edge of the white swing, her movements stiff, almost mechanical. She lifts her feet as soon as she’s down, toes hanging a good few inches off the ground as they curl around the thick bayou air, clenching and unclenching rhythmically. They never touch the bamboo mat and her eyes never lift from the shoreline— not even when he takes a couple measured steps towards her. It’s unnerving, to say the very least.

“We can’t stay out here too long.” Bucky isn’t used to speaking this quietly but it feels like if he doesn’t level his voice to match the whispering of the wind across the bulrushes then he’ll be hurting her more than he already has.

Her answer isn’t any louder than his— the only reason he even hears it at all is because he refuses to look away from her. He only hears her because his eyes are already on her lips, willing her to stop sinking her teeth into the soft flesh. Please, please, please stop—

“I just need a few minutes.”

Her eyes are wide and rimmed with red, toes continuing to work against the breeze with the same automatic movements. Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench. He doesn’t understand. It’s like she’s trying to work the feeling back into them— or maybe like she doesn’t know that she’s doing it at all. Hell, if the way her eyes have glassed over means anything then he would wager that there’s a good chance she doesn’t even fully know she’s outside. Yeah, that’s shellshock alright. Clench. Unclench. Clench. He doesn’t realize he’s copying her movements until his jaw aches.

Unclench.

“I know, doll. I—” He finally tears his gaze from her rigid figure— from her bruised lips— looking as well to the horizon. Maybe she’s on to something; maybe the waves will tell him how to help her— “I know.”

Can they tell him how to help himself? He shuffles forward again, stopping at the edge of the swing, gaze sweeping from the water to the barriers of the premise. Who is he kidding— of course they can’t. This isn’t about his salvation anymore. Those days have more than come and gone. Now it’s about hers— it’s about an assignment and keeping ten toes and ten fingers connected to two legs and two arms. Right now is about an order and Bucky Barnes can certainly follow orders— maybe that’s all he can do.

He gives the shaking girl who— despite everything— is swathed so prettily in the shade of the porch another once over.

Maybe but maybe not too.

Maybe he can’t follow orders at all.

Maybe he can’t afford to think about it for too long.

Because if he can’t follow orders then what can he do?

Bucky is still staring at her when she speaks again but her sudden words still make him jump nonetheless. “There’s room.” Her voice falters for a moment, lips hanging open and eyes faraway, before she continues. “If you want to sit, I mean. There’s room.”

He shouldn’t— he knows he shouldn’t, sitting isn’t a part of his orders— but he does. He couldn’t say no to her if he wanted to.

“Thanks.”

He definitely doesn’t want to say no to her.

“Sure.” Her voice is barely a hum— barely there at all— and he can’t choose whether to look at her lips or her fingers, which are now following suit.

Clench, unclench. Clench, unclench.

It’s an impossible decision— much like the ones from his days as a soldier— but it demands a choice from him nonetheless— unlike the ones from his days as a pawn. Her nails drag over the wood, snagging every so often, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Clench. Can she even feel him next to her? Back in the day— before that day— he used to watch his comrades do the same thing. He used to do the same thing. Sometimes he still does. He knows exactly what he would want someone to do for him.

He makes the choice for an impossible decision, wrapping his hand around hers until their fingers are laced together. “You can talk to me, if you want.”

It seems to work, if only marginally, because she stiffens for a moment, fingers flexing around his. Bucky can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, the way she grips his hand so unsure of herself. Is she unsure of herself, though, or is she still lost somewhere in the depths of her mind, drowning in her rotten honey thoughts?

Her hand stills— an answer in itself— before her voice, slowed as though stopped by lips that have been glued shut, sounds. “Do you ever feel like you’re drowning?”

It’s not what he’s expecting but what else is new— neither was she and yet he’s here, listening to the moments they’re allowed to be outside— all of zero moments, that is— tick away as her toes clench and unclench.

Tick, tick, tick— what would his commander say.

“Yes.”

Steve used to ask him the same thing, Bucky adds silently, but only when they got older.

He supplies, “I think maybe that’s a part of being human.”

Tick, tick, tick— his commander wouldn’t say anything, he would just put Bucky on probation.

Still, he doesn’t rush her— he can’t. He won’t. She just told him she’s drowning; he’s not going to be the ocean to her frenzied attempts to stay afloat. He’ll just hold her hand, and keep looking over her shoulder, and then over his own, and when the time comes he’ll tell her they have to go, because that’s what she’s expecting. He would know— there have been times he’s wanted someone to do the same for him.

Tick, tick, tick— this is worth probation.

“I don’t think I like being human.” She hums back.

No, Bucky wants to say— no, I don’t either, doll.

Being human sucks and he’s not very good at it. He would know, he’s been a lot of things— been compared to a lot of things. Robot. Popsicle. Dog— yeah, he’s a real jack of all trades and so far human isn’t near the top of his ‘favourites’ list. Maybe that’s because if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be any of the other things either— maybe if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be so easily turned into a monster.

Tick, tick, tick— maybe.

Tick, tick, tick— have his thoughts always been so disorganized?

Tick, tick, tick— maybe it’s the shellshock.

Bucky doesn’t say any of that, of course.

What he does say is— “What would you like to be instead?” —as if he can make everything all better himself.

He can try, at least. He’s been compared to a slave too. Being hers doesn’t sound all that bad.

Thunder rolls over head and it sounds more like a grandfather clock— or the impatient tapping of his commander’s fingers— than anything Bucky’s ever heard. Still, he waits to move. Tick, tick, tick. He waits for a lot of things.

Bucky waits for the sky to turn grey— for the first droplets to mix with the salty bay air and blow against his neck and face.

It’s familiar, the sticky, salty rain, and he isn’t expecting it.

He isn’t expecting Delacroix to remind him so much of his own home in Brooklyn.

He isn’t expecting the way that sitting next to this soft creature feels so much like sitting on the docks with Steve the summer before his enlistment. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning— Steve had said it at one hundred but he may as well have said it then, at eighteen, too. Because little did Bucky know, Steve had always felt a little bit like he was drowning and now Bucky, at one hundred and six, always feels a little bit like a bad friend.

Like a bad brother.

Like a bad dog— he should have scented it out all those years ago but instead he just waited.

Tick, tick, tick— all he does is wait.

Bucky waits for her to squeeze his hand once more— for her tiny fingers to alert him that she’s ready to move.

Maybe if Bucky had waited until Steve had told him that he was ready all those years ago then Steve would have waited for Bucky to be ready too. Because as he sits here, his skin turning swampy in the sticky, salty rain he realizes that no, he wasn’t ready for Steve Rogers to leave him behind.

He wasn’t ready to face the world alone.

He wasn’t even ready to face Brooklyn alone. Sometimes he still waits at the deli for him and orders the hero sandwich because even though he doesn’t like the absurd amount of pickles, Steve always had. Maybe if he eats enough— and waits long enough— then Steve will come back.

Tick, tick, tick— for a man who isn’t patient, Bucky Barnes sure does do a lot of waiting.

Bucky waits for her answer— because that’s what matters most. Not Steve’s wishes, not his commander’s impatient tapping, not even his own nostalgia that’s starting to make him, too, feel like he’s drowning. He used to love swimming in the Atlantic but when he licks his lips and tastes salt he’s sure it would take a miracle to get him to go in again. It would take a hundred years— or maybe just eighteen— and a push from a man who left Bucky almost as fast as Bucky had left him.

“I want to be a god—” she says it so suddenly that he jolts, eyes scanning their surroundings before realizing it’s just her determined, honey hollow voice sounding from next to him— “I want to be god— or invincible— or anyone but me, I think. I just don’t want to be me anymore. So yeah, I want to be a god.”

She still sounds so far away. Like she’s underwater— like Steve that time he wanted to see if Bucky could hear him scream from under the surf. He couldn’t but he told Steve he could. It doesn’t matter anymore— not right now. Only she does and her airy confession.

It makes Bucky’s heart clench and, as a reflex, so does his hand.

He releases the pressure accordingly— in his hand, not his heart— unclench— and as he does she adds— “and I want to take a bath.”

In that moment, despite his worry for her, he’s ecstatic she isn’t looking at him because if she had been then she would have seen the way his jaw drops. It takes him a moment to answer— a moment to pull himself out of the gutter his frozen-robot-dog brain drags him to— but he settles on one thought in surprisingly record time.

He can’t make her a god but he can sure as hell watch her back if she wants to take a bath.

He can’t make it all better but he can do that no problem.

So of course he stands, squeezing her hand one last time before saying, “okay, doll.”

Maybe Bucky is following orders after all. Maybe it’s a matter of choosing which— whose— orders to follow.

____________

Tag list: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky @elijahs-wife @cari1bunny @im-just-star-dust @motherofallthesmallthings​ @hazardoushallucination​ @em-august @nuttytani @brown-eyed-babes @imaginearyparties

(message me if you want to be added / removed from the tag list -- I'll hold no resentment if you do LOL)

[vaire-gwir]

I’ve run out of my words

Post-mountain incident, Jaskier is a heart broken mess. The last thing he needs is an unexpected visit from Geralt. 

I have accepted that it’s never going to be the same amount of words as I Find you all Unwoven, cause I re-wrote this three times and it just doesn’t happen.

Again, I was sad, that’s my excuse. English is not my first language, hope it doesn’t terribly suck! 

***

It hurt a great deal when Jaskier sold his lute. He was attached to it for more than just sentimental reasons. Sometimes he felt like his life truly started the day he got that lute.

He was used to pain by now though, pain was just another thing creeping under the surface, it came and went in waves like the ocean, sometimes threatening to overwhelm him with memories and sometimes resting among the broken pieces of his heart, hissing like a snake waiting to strike.

It was always there, he just perceived it in different ways: some days it was like being on the edge of an empty abyss of nothingness, about to fall but never really tipping over, just going through the motion. Other times, there were the long nights when sleep refused to visit him and he'd get this urge under his skin, to move, to do something, anything to not feel trapped in his own flesh, caged by his own mind.

He tried to fight insomnia with the ink, but he proved a terrible fighter. He couldn't write anything anymore. When he tried to play, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and he'd get even the simplest of melody wrong, resulting in endless frustration that kept him up until dawn.

As much as he tried to outrun his ghost, he always ended up running right into it, and if he managed to keep his waking hours relatively Geralt-free, the dreams were always there. His journals paid the price of waking up for the hundredth time, after a nightmare that leaves him choking and incapable to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

He thought he'd feel relieved after watching it crackle and burn to ashes, as if destroying the evidence of his time with the Witcher could also destroy the heartache that came with it, but it doesn't work like that. Nothing he ever does stops him from being hollow.

Jaskier walks around the Academy like a shadow, trying to keep himself busy between lessons or at least trying to keep Geralt out of his thoughts. This simple task proved to be more complicated than he anticipated. He doesn't want to be here, he's not made for teaching and his students get on his nerves all the time. To be fair, most things get on his nerves since the mountain incident, but he doesn't have many options.

Sure, he could go home to his family, beg their forgiveness and implore his father to allow him back into court. That sounded as promising as jumping off a bridge.

Compared to that, even the room Madame M. offered him at the brothel looked like a golden palace. At least he had some talent for sex, he managed to convince even a Witcher to sleep with him, that hadn't been easy.

Jaskier stirs his mind in a safer direction, cause thinking about those nights will not do him any good. He still blames and curses himself for coming up with that stupid arrangement, cause why not Geralt, I'm here all the time, and I'm obviously very willing, besides you don't have to pay me, looks like a win-win situation to me. Looks like you're a special kind of idiot, Jaskier, that's what you are. Why did Geralt even accept anyway?

Jaskier blinks the memories away and focuses on trying to have lunch, cause that's what sane, normal people do. He's still struggling with normal though.

His plan flew out of the window when someone started to sing. Jaskier froze in his spot when he recognized the song. He wrote that. He should be pleased to hear it, but it's not pride he feels when he glances in the direction of the curly-haired boy in green velvet.

He will never play or sing another song again, and people will forget him sooner than Geralt did. The folks in this tavern don't know him, they don't know he wrote those lyrics to distract himself the first night Geralt didn't come back from a hunt and he feared for him every second of that dreadful night.

He spent hours cursing the Gods for making him so useless and prayed to them in the same breath, begging for their mercy. He felt stupid later, when Geralt showed up at dawn saying it took him longer than expected to break a curse. Jaskier told the Witcher how scared he had been and Geralt dismissed him as the fool he was.

He's scared of being forgotten, of being meaningless and unimportant. No one is going to remember Jaskier, the bard that traveled the continent with the White Wolf and shared his adventures.

He left Jaskier on top of that mountain, he's just Julian now, just a teacher, just another idiot that got his heart broken. Geralt left him like everyone else. That's what people do, they just leave and move on with their lives. So why couldn't he move on too?

There's a small shift in the air, and while he tries to regain control of his thoughts, for some unknown reason, destiny, the universe, life or the Gods, make him turn his head toward the entrance.

There is no mistaking the white hair he sees, or the dark armour. Jaskier knows he has to leave before Geralt sees him. The sole idea of Geralt being here is enough to leave him shaking.

What are the chances of meeting the Witcher outside Oxenfurt? There were no contracts in town, why was fate trying his best to mess with his life today, was the song not enough? He feels like his head is swimming and he knows he doesn't have time to panic cause his heart beats so loudly he fears Geralt will spot it in a second.

He puts some coins in the maid's hand and stumbles out of the place.  

He can't face him. Not today. Probably not ever, cause he can't imagine he'll ever be ready to face the one that broke his heart without holding any anger or resentment towards him. Why must he feel like this, Geralt never cared for him, so why is he still drowning in his feelings for the idiot?

Jaskier is a poet, he should know a thing or two about heartache. He should also know that he's out of luck today.

"Why did you follow me, Witcher?" Jaskier feels his presence a few paces behind him, still so painfully familiar to him even after all these months.

"How did you know..." There's a puzzled expression on Geralt's face. Jaskier knows he's not prepared for this.

It takes him a second to realize that no matter how angry he is at the Witcher, how deep his sorrow runs and how broken his heart is, a small part of him is almost glad to see him. It's the same small part that decided to talk to a stranger and follow him on a dangerous journey, the one that figured out first that what he was feeling was more than a crush, and that accepted every scrap of affection Geralt showed him like he was being handed the world on a silver plate.

Geralt is exactly how he remembers him, and his betrayer heart jumps in his chest when their eyes meet.

"I saw you at the tavern. I spent so long searching for your face in every crowd I started to think I was seeing things, but apparently I was right this time." I love you, I'd recognize your steps everywhere, the cracking of the leather in your gloves and the click of the metal of that buckle in your armor you always forget to fix after a hunt, I know them as if they were my own. I love you, and you broke my heart. That's what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat, they're no use now.

"I... You were not singing." Jaskier knows it's not surprise he sees on Geralt's face when he answers "I don't do that anymore." but he can't figure out what it is.

It hurt when he realized he couldn't bring himself to sing or play anymore, it left him feeling even emptier than before, cause he always thought he'd have his music to console him, to defend him from the things life was throwing at him, to build a wall around himself and protect whatever was left of him. How wrong he was.

"Why not?" Jaskier wishes he could explain that when they parted on top of the mountain, when he forced himself to say "See you around Geralt" knowing he'll never see him again, when he tried to process those heavy words that rolled off the Witcher's tongue, his love for music, for poetry, for life, rolled off too and hid somewhere he couldn't reach anymore. But Geralt never cared for his music.

"Don't act like you care. I'm not the same person I was ten months ago. Besides, you hate my singing, you can barely stand my voice, what difference does it make to you?" Keeping his tone even and preventing his voice from breaking is hard, harder than any performance he ever had to do. Ten months ago feel like a lifetime away now, it doesn't even seem real. The ache in his chest is always there to remind him that it is.

"That's not true." Jaskier sees how he clenches his hands as if those words meant a great effort for him. The Gods know how many times he looked into Geralt's eyes after singing, desperately seeking his approval and finding only a mild annoyance, like this was just another thing he had to endure.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling. There's a word for that, in case you didn't know, and it's called disappointment. Now, why did you follow me out here? I don't think it was to tell me you suddenly like my voice cause we both know you don't and honestly, bit late for that, don't you think?" Jaskier wants to be annoyed, he should be furious for what Geralt did to him, for leaving him like he meant nothing, but these days being mad is a lot of effort. He doesn't have it in him anymore, it's easier to let go of the anger. It doesn't make him feel less empty or less broken anyway.

"I just thought...we could maybe....talk?" Jaskier laughs bitterly.

"Really Geralt? That's rich coming from you. Now you want to talk? You know what, no. No, you don't get to come here and tell me you want to talk after I spent ten gods forsaken months trying to forget you. Don't you fucking dare. Not like this. Now if there's something I can help you with, do say so. If not, spare us both this conversation, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to have my heart broken again." Jaskier is not even sure there is something left to break.

He'll never admit it but deep down he knows there's no forgetting Geralt. And he curses that small part of him that wants to listen to him, to let him talk and explain, cause he knows that he'd go back to traveling with the Witcher right this second if he so much as says he'd take him back. Stupid, stupid Jaskier. A Witcher apologizing, as if.

"I'll leave you to your things then. Goodbye, Jaskier."  Saying goodbye, even knowing that it's for the best, doesn't make it any less painful.

"You were right." Geralt looks at him in a way he has never seen before, for a second he thinks it's hurt that he sees flickering in those golden eyes, but it lasts a second. He should know Geralt doesn't care about him enough to be hurt by something he says or does.

"You spent so much time trying to convince me to leave you alone and stop following you around and I never fucking listened. I realized you were right. Cause you, you got what you wanted, life, destiny, whatever, you had your sorceress and I'm finally off your hands. But what about me? That is why I wish...I wish I would have listened to you. Left. Before it was too late. Before having my heart broken."

His voice breaks at the end, he feels the tears stinging his eyes and he turns to walk away before Geralt notices it. Pain comes in waves, and today he's drowning.

[geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek]

hmmm how about 24 and/or 41? :3c

24. you’re my ex but i think i still have feelings for you / 41. overhearing they have feelings for you

post-s1, geraskier, past yenralt, implied yenskier if u squint, break up & make up situation, angst with a hopeful ending

cliche prompts~!

—

there’s a tight feeling in his chest, a pressing weight on him as a rush of feeling overcomes him when he sees jaskier standing at the entrance of kaer morhen.

their eyes meet for the first time since the mountain, and geralt thinks they’re even bluer than he remembers. perhaps it’s the light of the afternoon sun dappling in beams over the keep, or just that old adage of absence making the heart grow fonder, but his breath is stolen as he looks at his bard once again.

not your bard, he reminds himself harshly, dropping his gaze but unable to look away for long, not after so much time apart. not anymore.

he watches those blue eyes go dim with a fresh wave of pain and heartache as they land on him, and then go wide when he sees geralt’s companion.

“jaskier!”

ciri rushes forward from his side, and jaskier drops to his knees, arms open to catch her in a hug. he presses his face in her hair the same way geralt had back in the forest where they found each other, holding something so indescribably precious in his arms.

the aching of his own heart intensifies.

“oh, sweet girl,” jaskier is murmuring to her, holding her tight while she buries her face in his neck. “i’m so glad you found him. it’s alright, it’s alright. you’re safe now.”

he’d forgotten jaskier spent many winters after that disastrous engagement banquet back in cintra’s court, watching their little lion cub grow up. one of us should be there for her, he’d told geralt once, a look in his blue eyes geralt hadn’t been able to place.

he thinks now it might have been something like understanding, something like resignation. always picking up the slack abandoned by geralt in matters of destiny.

he’s always done more than geralt deserves of him.

those blue eyes that always make him feel simultaneously like he’s drowning and finding air after being underwater for too long find his again as jaskier stands up, hands still on ciri’s shoulders, and then jaskier turns away without a word and leads her into the keep.

the clenching in his chest cinches tighter and geralt feels another piece of his heart crack and splinter, chipped away by his own doing.

yen’s gaze, from where she stands beside him, burns into the side of his head. “you’re a real piece of work, geralt of rivia.”

with that, she moves away and heads into kaer morhen, and he watches yet again as the two halves of his heart leave him behind, one slightly mended by necessity, the other still raw and bleeding.

.

he avoids jaskier for the first several weeks as winter sets in in earnest. it’s—more difficult than he expects. kaer morhen is large, but not large enough to keep geralt from being in the same space as jaskier, and he finds himself leaving rooms right after entering them when he sees his—not his—bard sitting at a table or curled in a chair, lute in hand, his voice warm and soft and gods, he’s missed it. missed jaskier.

but he messed it up on that mountain. he fucked up the one good thing life had seen fit to bless him with—how could he have ever called jaskier a curse—and he’s not sure it’s something he can fix.

so he avoids jaskier to avoid having to face the consequences of his mistakes. of this mistake in particular.

it doesn’t last.

he’s been trying to ignore the burn of jealousy in his veins when he catches yen with jaskier, both of them with their heads together and smiling and laughing together like old friends. yen had said she and jaskier had worked through their differences and come to an understanding sometime in the time between the mountain and now, but she’d never offered the details of their relationship.

the urge to put himself between them and pull jaskier away, to crowd him against a wall and hide him from her gaze and focus all of that blue-eyed attention on himself is strong, and it takes a great amount of his carefully learned and honed control to keep it in check. he hates the envy spreading in him like toxins in his blood.

he finds himself lingering outside the door to the room jaskier was given, hand poised in the air as if to knock or push his way in, wanting to, wanting to be let back in, but never going through with it. he listens instead, from the hallway, to jaskier singing softly or muttering nonsense to himself as he goes about his nightly routines. it’s familiar, calming, something he did on the road with geralt, and geralt feels something in him settle knowing jaskier hasn’t changed much at all.

occasionally, he’ll be talking to someone—ciri, usually, or yen, or eskel or lambert—and geralt burns with the desire to be the one he talks to, to be given the honor of keeping him company, even if he’s proven he’s not worthy of jaskier time and time again. he wants jaskier back, but he’s not sure jaskier wants him anymore.

it’s a night like this, geralt lingering beyond the door and listening in, that something in this self-imposed stalemate between them finally shifts.

jaskier is with yen tonight, and geralt thinks, later, wryly, that it was probably some kind of omen from destiny. their voices are low murmurs, occasionally interspersed with laughter, but it turns quiet and somber at some point over something he didn’t catch. at first.

“i used to think i knew him,” jaskier says, confesses it like a dark secret. he sounds so terribly sad it makes geralt want to run himself onto his own sword, because it’s his fault. “that i knew, no matter what words he did or didn’t say, that i knew what he was trying to say, what he was actually saying. now...now, i’m not sure i ever did.”

you did, geralt thinks, jaw clenching. you knew me better than anyone. no one else had ever bothered to know me like you did.

“for someone so smart,” yen muses, “he’s very stupid.”

it makes jaskier laugh. “he is. it’s part of his charm.”

“if you think stupidity is charming.”

“well obviously i did.”

did. but not anymore.

“obviously.”

it’s quiet between them for a moment, and geralt strains to hear anything from beyond the thick door separating him from the one who had become his everything without him even realizing it until it was too late.

“sometimes i wonder if there’s something wrong with me,” jaskier murmurs, and geralt’s heart twists. no, there’s not. you’re perfect. you were always too good for me. “something not quite right inside me. i mean,” he laughs again, but it sounds pained this time, worn out and tired, “why else, even after everything, would i still love him this deeply?”

geralt’s breath leaves him in a rush, like he’s been punch, or tossed into a wall by a beast.

“love makes fools of us all,” yen says. “it’s a curse—but also a blessing. if you’re into it. personally, i prefer a good bondage kink, but to each his own. martyrdom does it for some people, i hear.”

geralt pictures the way jaskier might try to hide a smile in her hair at the attempt at a joke. he always tried to hide his smiles when he didn’t want to admit geralt had said something funny, dry as it was.

he wants that back, wants that easy friendship, that easy love jaskier gave to him so freely.

“i want him back,” jaskier says then, as if he can hear geralt’s thoughts from the hall. “he was never mine, but i want him back anyway.”

i was always yours, geralt thinks. i just hadn’t realized how completely you had me until i forced you to let go.

he can’t listen to any more—he’s scraped raw at the confession, at the depth of jaskier’s love for him even after how he’d treated him, at his own realization. as quietly as he can, he walks away from jaskier’s room, though not without feeling a pull back to the door, back to his bard.

not your bard, he tells himself again. then amends, but maybe he would be again, if given the chance.

geralt returns to his own room, checking in on ciri as he goes, feeling some of the tension in his chest ease knowing his child surprise is sleeping safely close by. his resolve is set:

he’s got an apology to give that’s long past due.

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 5 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Jackson Lee Davis/AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: With a storm approaching, you offer to house Negan for the duration and maybe in the process deal with all the nagging thoughts that have come up during all the sessions so far.

Word Count: 2232

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Keeping Your Head Up” by Birdy

Note: This one is more like an intro to the next one, but I thought I’d post it cause I’m posting these in between some angsty stories!

---------

The constant arguing was finally getting on your nerves. 

Sitting in the meeting hall, you listened to the council and other key members of Alexandria argue about the same thing as always: Negan. This week’s issue was that there was a storm coming in that would most likely bring lots of rain, at least that’s what Eugene was thinking. Whether he was right or not, there was still the question of where they were putting their prisoner so he didn’t drown in his cell. 

There were those such as Aaron and Rosita who couldn’t care less about what happened to the man, but then there were people like Gabriel who were still mildly concerned. They had locked him up, kept him fed, and Gabriel didn’t think it was fair to keep him in such a vulnerable position during the potential downpour.

Nobody wanted to leave him alone in an empty house and Aaron had even suggested tying him up in the watch post, but Michonne had shot that down immediately. 

You sat in the back row of the hall, waiting for them to stop hollering at each other. The last conversation you had had with Negan hadn’t ended well. You were tired, he was curious, and you were not in the mood for his...negan-ness at all. The realization that you and the former leader were similar had rocked you a bit. You weren’t sure what to do with the information. 

There was a part of you that wanted to just walk out the front gate and not look back. Running away had once been a pattern for you before the world had ended, but you had fought to break that streak once you joined up with this group of survivors. However, spending a few days in the woods alone seemed not too bad right now. Daryl did seem to have the right idea at times, you thought. 

The hum of arguing continued and you fought against everything you had not to yell at them. If Alexandria didn't have strong walls, you were sure the Dead would have been called from miles away with this volume.

"I'll do it," you said, more to the wall than anyone. The yelling continued so you stood up and projected your voice louder, "I'll do it!"

Everyone in the room turned to look at you, Michonne pausing mid-sentence. "What?" Aaron asked.

"I said, I'll do it. Negan can stay with me at my place for the duration of the storm." Nobody knew what to say as you offered your home to be Negan’s temporary cell.

"(Y/N)," Gabriel began, unsure how to continue.

"I have an extra room," you explained, "my fireplace works, I live alone, and I'm already his therapist, might as well be his warden too."

"It's not your job to...house him," Rosita said.

"No, it's not," you agreed. "It's probably Michonne's considering she's head of security, but she has two little ones. Now, I doubt Judith and RJ would care if Negan stayed in their living room, but this way I keep him from all of you and y'all can stop bickering like a PTA meeting." 

"And if he tries to leave?" Aaron asked, but you rolled your eyes.

"He won't," you assured him, "though, if he managed to sneak past me, all the other houses, and get over the walls in the storm, then hell, he would deserve the escape." 

"Let's try not to let that happen," Michonne said and you nodded. "Are you going to need extra supplies?" She asked simply. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at how easy it was to take on the responsibility. You knew it was just a matter of time before someone spoke up and you also knew that person was going to be you.

"I think we'll be okay. I'll wait until the sun goes down and then drag Alcatraz on over.” 

You didn’t wait for a response before grabbing your jacket and exiting the hall. All around Alexandria, people were prepping for the storm. There wasn’t much they could do considering there was only a few hour warning. These were the days when you missed The Weather Channel the most. Since the world had ended, it was the small things that you missed about the old world rather than the big ones. 

Waving to Gracie who was sitting on the steps of her house, you continued on your way to your small home near the South wall. It wasn’t much and it was smaller than the rest of the homes, but you preferred it. Rick had once called it your “crows nest” which was appropriate considering your time as a sniper. 

Rosita’s house was locked up tight as you passed it and jogged up your front steps. There wasn’t much more to do as you tended to keep your house secure most of the time.

You spent the next couple of hours taping down the windows, grabbing firewood from the communal supply, and taking inventory of your food stock. The whole thing was becoming...odd. It was as if you were a kid again, making sure the house was clean for company so your parents didn’t feel embarrassed.

The thought alone made you chuckle as you finished off your chores by grabbing extra blankets from the hall closet. Glancing outside, the sun began to dip and droplets of rain were already spattering against the windows. With a sigh, you grabbed your coat and began the walk over to the cell. 

There were very few people out on the streets and you had a feeling Gabriel and Michonne had spread the news that public enemy number one would be lead out on his leash tonight. Walking by the Grimes’ house, Judith looked at you through the window. You sent her a wink and she grinned back, giving you a thumbs up. 

You often wondered where her constant optimism came from because it definitely didn’t come from being raised by Rick or by her biological father. Shane was never one to see the glass as half full for as long as you knew him. However, now that you were thinking about it, Lori did have that little spark deep down...very deep down. Perhaps Judith Grimes was one of a kind after all.

Pulling the keys from your belt, you shuffled down the steps and unlocked the large door. Stepping inside the cold room, you were surprised to be met with silence. You stepped closer to the bars and then you understood why. 

Negan was fast asleep. 

You took a moment to watch the sleeping man. There was something so innocent about the way a person slept. It was like a reset button for a night and right now he didn’t look like the monster Alexandria and others feared, he was just a man trying to get some rest in a screwed-up world. Rest that you felt bad about interrupting. 

Pulling the right key, you inserted it into the cell door and pushed it open. Negan remained asleep as you crept forward. Leaning down, you gently shook his shoulder, trying to wake him. Negan’s eyes flew open and his hand tightly gripped the arm that was resting on him. “Ow,” you grunted at the pressure, trying to pull your hand back. 

“What’s going on?” He muttered, blinking in the darkness. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me go,” you hissed. Negan finally focused on you, his brows furrowed. 

“(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Negan, hand,” you reminded him.

“Oh, right,” he said, releasing you from his grip. You stepped back, rubbing at the skin that was sure to be bruised later. He slowly sat up and glanced at the open cell door before looking back at you. “What? Has the Queen of Alexandria finally agreed to a public execution?” he asked bitterly.

With a roll of your eyes, you reached over and grabbed the thick jacket Gabriel had gotten for him a few weeks ago. You threw it at him. 

“There’s a massive storm rolling through and Eugene thinks it’ll flood some areas. You’re staying with me until it passes. No more than two days,” you explained, crossing your arms. Negan was silent as his fingers played with the thick material of his jacket. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Why what?” you asked, exasperated.

“Why would anyone care if I succumbed to the elements?” he asked with narrowed eyes. 

“You don’t want to come? That’s fine. I don’t mind being alone,” you said with a challenge in your eyes. Negan quickly stood, shaking his head. 

“No, no, a warm house sounds very nice,” he quickly said. “I’m a great house guest.”

“Right,” you said, still feeling the awkwardness that remained between the two of you from your last conversation. Negan shrugged on the jacket and then you walked to him, producing a pair of cuffs. 

“Seriously?” he asked, staring at the chains with disdain.

“Either this or learn to swim,” you said, dangling the cuffs. Negan huffed but offered you his wrists anyway. You quickly fastened them and then took hold of his arm. “Come on, it’s already started to rain.

Negan followed you out of the cell, hesitating on the threshold for a moment. You squeezed his arm briefly and he kept walking. The two of you pushed out into the damp air and you let go of him for a second to close up the room tightly, trying to reduce the amount of water damage that was sure to come.

Turning back to Negan, his attention wasn’t on you, but on the overcast sky. His head was tilted back as he breathed in the night air. A look of content was on his face and you almost thought he was smiling slightly. It was then that you realized this was the first time he had been outside in...you didn’t know how long.

Taking his arm again, you pulled him away from his thoughts and tugged him after you. Negan kept pace with you as you began the walk home. The streets were completely empty now, but it didn’t stop Negan from looking around with those curious eyes of his. 

You didn’t know what compelled you to do it, but you easily slowed your pace, letting the walk take twice as long as usual. Looking up at Negan who was completely focused on Alexandria, you let yourself feel a bit sorry for the man. Obviously, Michonne had her reasons for keeping him locked up. You knew them and so did Negan, but you thought that perhaps he should be let out a bit more often. 

Michonne had asked you to start visiting him because she thought all the isolation was bad for him, but she also didn’t realize that it wasn’t just being alone that wasn’t good for him. He needed to be out and even if it was starting to pour, you were going to let him have this moment. 

Sliding your arm off of his, you let him wander ahead of you a bit, keeping him close, but not so much him being a dog being lead on a leash. He took the paths with grass on them and ran his hands down light posts and across fences. It was like watching someone rediscover the world and it made you oddly happy. 

“This way, genius,” you called when he began walking down another street. He quickly walked to your side with a grin on his face. “What?”

“I just never imagined you’d be taking me home so soon,” he joked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I didn’t think you would enjoy spending the night in the stables,” you explained, kicking at a loose stone on the road. 

“And Michonne and Gabe probably told you that I needed a babysitter.”

“That too,” you agreed. You finished the walk in silence. There were moments when you had to steer Negan in the right direction, but overall, you let him walk on his own without a guard. Arriving at your house, you pulled him up the steps, ignoring Rosita who was glaring at him through her window. Negan didn’t seem to notice or if he did, he didn’t say anything.

“Home sweet home, huh?” Negan said as he stepped into your house. The fire was already burning as your pulled of your jacket and lay it across a chair near the flames. Negan was looking around at the warm room when you walked to him and grabbed his wrists, the key to the cuffs in your hand. “Really?” he asked, surprised. 

“Did you expect me to keep them on?” you asked, removing the cuffs.

“Kind of, yeah,” he admitted. 

“Well, this is not the cell, it’s my house. My house, my rules, and I say that nobody needs to wear handcuffs. So, here you go. Two days of whatever you want. The kitchen is stocked, there’s decently hot water, and the spare bedroom is the final door on the left. However, you touch my weapons and I will put the cuffs back on, deal?” Negan stared at you for a second before nodding. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he said and you gave him an awkward thumbs up before leaving him be in your living room. Walking into your kitchen, you wished for whiskey, another small thing you missed from the old world.

“This is going to be a long two days.” 

TAGS:  @thanossexual​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @boom-bunny​ @delusionalteenagewhispers​ @sophia-gwendolyn​ @ritajammer21

[bluenet13]

A Bloody Mess

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: SEAL Team.

Characters: Sonny Quinn, Lisa Davis, Clay Spenser, Stella Baxter.

Prompt: Bloodstained Clothes.

Summary:  Lisa and Clay are always a phone call away. Especially when his relationship is on the rocks again and Sonny ends up in the middle of a fight after trying to drown his sorrows at a bar.

Links: ff.net - AO3

When Lisa's phone rang, her first thought was Sonny. But then she remembered the night before, how her application to join Echo Team had been denied, and the conversation that had followed. Her heart aching as she realized that Sonny wouldn't be calling her anymore, at least for things not related to national security.

Letting it ring, Lisa figured if it was important enough they would call again. She wasn't really in the mood to deal with anyone and it was her day off.

After a few minutes of silence, Lisa sighed, thinking that it was probably a spam call or one of the Bravo boys taking the hint that she wasn't available. But, not three minutes later, the phone rang again so Lisa ran to the kitchen counter where she had left it charging.

Instinctually, Lisa almost grabbed her work bag at the same time as she finally decided to pick the call, but ended up just frowning, hand falling to her side, as she saw the name pop up on her screen. It wasn't the base that's for sure.

"Hi, Stella," Lisa greeted the woman on the other end of the line, grateful that this was just a phone call so she didn't have to fake a smile, along with her cheerful tone. "Is everything okay? Clay alright?" She couldn't help but ask.

"Hi, Lisa… Yeah, Clay's okay. Well, most of him anyways," a nervous laugh escaped Stella and Lisa's frown deepened. "But, it's Sonny, I'm calling about…"

Taking in a deep breath, Lisa drew her hand down her face, because of course it had to be Sonny.

"Have you seen him?" Stella asked nervously as Lisa failed to say anything to her previous comment.

"Not since yesterday," Lisa explained, "when I left Ray's house, the boys were still there, and I don't know what happened afterwards. We haven't spoken since."

"Umm, okay, okay," Stella sounded nervous, and Lisa desperately needed to know what had happened, but she also knew she needed to get some distance from Sonny, regardless of how much it hurt. "Well, thanks anyways. Let us know if you hear from him."

"Wait, Stella," Lisa practically shouted. But then fell quiet. Things with Sonny were complicated, as complicated as they had ever been, but she couldn't just turn off her feelings for him. Sonny had her heart, and deep down she knew whatever happened, she would never be able to stop caring about him. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Stella didn't answer right away, instead Lisa could hear shuffling and whispering, or more like hissing, coming from the other side.

"Davis," another voice said after a few minutes. Clay. Of course he was there.

"Spencer," Lisa muttered, not surprised that whatever trouble Sonny was in, Clay was involved too. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry to call you, I know this might not be what you wanted," Clay said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I was about to head to Sonny's apartment but Stella suggested we check in with you first."

"Okay," Lisa said simply. Not really surprised that Clay already seemed to know what had happened between her and Sonny the day before. But as much was obvious from his tone. "Clay, what happened?"

"Um, well…"

"Clay! Get on it with it," Lisa hissed.

"Okay, okay, sorry. It's just… Sonny called me last night, like an hour after the rest of us left Ray's house. He didn't sound okay and there were too many voices around for him to be at home, so I asked where he was. He was at a bar. Not one we had been to before. I could hear shouting too. But anyhow, I met him there. And there might have been a fight at some point after that…" Clay's voice cut abruptly, and more angry whispering could be heard on the line.

"Give me the phone, you're taking too long," Stella chided, before she obviously took the phone from Clay. "Sorry, Lisa. The point is Clay went to meet Sonny at the bar, and they ended up in a fight." Stella was trying to sound casual, but her voice was too tight to sound fully natural, and it only told Lisa that she didn't yet know the specifics of said fight. "Afterwards Clay tried to get Sonny to come to the apartment with him, but he refused. They just got an Uber together instead and Clay asked the driver to drop Sonny off first. So we know he made it home, but now we can reach him."

"I've been trying to talk to him all morning, but he's not picking up," Clay resumed the explanation, practically giving Lisa whiplash from all the jumping between the two. "We just thought maybe you had heard from him. But you haven't. So I will just go to his apartment. Thanks and, again, sorry for calling."

"Clay, I'll go."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I live closer to him anyways."

"Okay," Clay agreed easily, his tone betraying that he didn't believe for one second that was the only reason why Lisa wanted to be the one to check up on Sonny.

"Keep us posted, please," Stella added, to which Lisa promised to call back when she knew more, before ending the call.

Sighing, Lisa closed her eyes for a second as she tried to tamper down her emotions. God knows she was really making an effort to respect the rules and get away from Sonny on a personal level, but he just kept reeling her in. She couldn't really say she minded, but Bravo was already under the microscope, and they couldn't further jeopardize all their careers.

But, Sonny was in trouble, so none of that was important now. So, grabbing her purse and keys, Lisa wasted no time in going to his aid, because regardless of the status of their relationship, she would always move heaven and earth to save him; and whether that be from Tangos in foreign lands, or from his own self-destructive tendencies at home, didn't really matter.

-x-x-x-

Not fifteen minutes later, having broken more than a few speed limits in the process, Lisa reached Sonny's apartment and the first thing she noticed was the door being unlocked. Getting closer, Lisa tentatively pushed it open and stepped inside. Feeling a small amount of relief when she found the living room seemingly undisturbed. But her worry returning as soon as she realized Sonny was nowhere in sight.

"Sonny?" Lisa asked, walking further into the familiar apartment.

Getting no answer, Lisa went to Sonny's room but found the bed not slept in, which she was sure of because Sonny was not the type to make his bed before first getting breakfast, and the kitchen had been similarly unused. "Sonny?" She called again, louder this time. But she met only silence.

Moving to Sonny's bathroom Lisa found it empty too and her worry began to increase as she realized that so far she hadn't seen his keys or wallet either. For a brief moment she wondered if maybe Sonny had contacted another member of the team, like Trent since he was the medic. But all further questions flew out of her mind as soon as she noticed the first droplets of blood on the living room floor. Following the path, Lisa reached the last place she had not searched yet.

"Sonny?" Lisa asked again, as she got close to the guest bathroom. The door was slightly ajar but the sight didn't look inviting at all. Lisa couldn't really explain why, until she saw what looked suspiciously like a bloody handprint on the otherwise white wood.

Her mind in overdrive, Lisa pushed the door open and gasped as soon as she saw Sonny collapsed on the bathroom floor, blood soaking the tile and pooling under him. His clothes were so bloody that Lisa wondered how she hadn't seen a blood trail as soon as she came into the apartment, or maybe she had, and her mind had just tried to protect her by blocking the sight until it just couldn't do it anymore.

"Hey, Sonny, wake up," Lisa said as soon as she was kneeling next to him, doing her best to avoid all the blood on the floor. But Sonny didn't answer or even stir.

Running back to Sonny's room, Lisa grabbed the medkit that he kept in his bathroom before she again kneeled next to him. Slowly, she lifted Sonny's hand from where it was pressed to his side, quickly having noticed this was the bloodiest spot on his shirt, and instantly cursed when she noticed the very obvious stab wound.

"Damn it, Sonny," she said to herself. "And damn you, Clay." Because how could he not have realized this would need stitches and probably antibiotics too, just to be safe.

Trying to be careful but effective, Lisa grabbed gauze and pushed down on the gushing wound, attempting to halt the flow of blood, because seeing how much of it was currently on the floor and on Sonny's jeans and shirt, Lisa knew he couldn't afford to lose any more of it.

Lisa's movements must have been careful enough because Sonny didn't wake through it all, but as soon as she began packing the wound, he began to stir and grunt. His eyes flying open as soon as Lisa pushed the gauze further in.

"Stay there, don't move," Lisa said through gritted teeth as soon as Sonny tried to move away. She hated to cause Sonny pain, of the physical kind at least, because she knew the day before she had caused him a lot of emotional ache. But she knew enough of first aid, from her own training and also Trent, to recognize she needed to pack the wound to stop further hemorrhaging.

"Lisa?" Sonny asked, eyes now at half-mast, his breathing coming in small puffs of air, except when he gasped every time Lisa pushed more gauze into the wound. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that question, Sonny," Lisa argued, barely able to suppress her anger, "you should be in a hospital!"

"No need, I took care of it," Sonny explained, a sad imitation of a grin on his face.

"Does this look taken care of?" Lisa hissed, lifting a bloody towel to show Sonny how not taken care of this really was. "You're lucky you didn't bleed out! Of all the stupid things… I swear I will kill you myself if you ever pull a stunt like this again." Lisa continued to rant, even as she never stopped working, finishing packing the wound before taping the gauze in place and moving to check the rest of Sonny.

"Okay, maybe not taken care of," Sonny admitted softly, letting out a nervous chuckle. "But, don't be mad," he whined, looking up at Lisa as his eyes began to flutter shut. "I don't like it when you're mad with me."

"Don't you dare pass out on me, Sonny Quinn," Lisa threatened, "and if you don't want me to be mad, then stop doing stupid shit like this!"

"I'm sorry," Sonny said with a pained exhale, "didn't mean to get into the fight, just wanted a drink…"

"Didn't you have enough drinks at Ray's?" Lisa asked incredulously, even as she knew she was the reason he needed more.

At that, Sonny just shrugged, letting his eyes finally close.

"Sonny!" Lisa shouted, shaking him awake, and gently slapping his cheeks.

Opening his eyes, Sonny tried to focus on Lisa, throwing her his best apologetic look, but his eyes began to flutter again. "Sorry, tired," he mumbled.

"Come on, please Sonny you got to stay awake," Lisa begged.

Finally convinced that the worst of the wounds was treated for now, and Sonny wouldn't bleed out in front of her, Lisa took her phone out of her pocket and searched her favorites list for Trent's number. But a weak hand on her arm stopped her so she looked down.

"What are you doing?" Sonny asked weakly.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm calling Trent, then I'm calling 9-1-1," Lisa snapped.

"No, don't call Trent. I'm okay. And, the team can't know about this." Sonny explained weekly, using his remaining strength to try to lift himself from the floor, but he only made it a few inches before he collapsed again, ending up slumped in between the sink and wall.

"Sonny how do you expect to hide this?" Lisa asked, gesturing to his body.

"And this," a voice said from the door, and both Sonny and Lisa turned to find Stella pointing at Clay's black eye, and split lip.

"How can we help?" Clay said at the same time as Stella spoke, his key to Sonny's apartment still held tightly on his hand.

"I think you already helped enough," Lisa quipped, looking at Clay with accusatory eyes.

"I, um…" Clay ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he got too far down and bumped the bruise on his eye. The explanation of what had happened was something for Sonny to share with Lisa, so with nothing to say, Clay just ignored her and moved forward, kneeling on Sonny's other side and beginning to pack and wrap a smaller wound.

"It's not his fault," Sonny said.

"The hell it's not!" Lisa all but shouted, "why is it you two always end up in trouble together?"

Clay and Sonny shared a brief look at the question, both shrugging because they didn't have a good answer.

"Clay was only helping," Sonny explained, his voice barely above a whisper. "I got into a fight at this bar, and even I have self-preservation enough to know I wouldn't get far against seven. They were blocking the exit so I hid in the bathroom and called Clay."

"And you just showed up, just like that?" Lisa couldn't help but ask.

"Yes," Stella said simply.

"Of course," Clay said at the same time, his tone basically asking how could he not.

"So, yeah, Clay showed up and I was still locked inside the bathroom," Sonny stopped as he began to stumble on his words, "he tried to get the men to back down and leave us alone. Apologized for whatever had happened. But then I heard a crash and Clay grunting. I got out, and well, a fight broke out. And one of them must have had a knife." He ended the explanation with a hopeless shrug.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop this from happening," Clay said sincerely, looking at Lisa, "but this is the first time I'm hearing anything about knives. My guys were all fists," he explains, pointing to his black eye.

"A lot of fists apparently," Stella added, stepping close to Clay, and lifting his shirt to show various hand-shaped bruises on his abdomen.

Uncomfortable with the attention, Clay pushed his shirt back down and continued working on Sonny's injuries. Now gently prodding the bruising on his friend's stomach, trying to determine if they should also be worried about internal injuries or broken ribs.

"Lisa, did you already call Trent or should I?" Stella asked with a wince, needing to feel useful but also feeling sympathetic towards her boyfriend and his best friend, because Trent wouldn't be a happy man when he set his eyes on them.

"No Trent," Sonny said again.

"Come on, Sonny. Even you must be smart enough to know we can hide this from the team. They will find out eventually," Clay retorted.

"Bravo is already in hot water. Can't make it worse," Sonny tried to argue.

"Okay, we can figure out what to do about the team later, but I'm calling 9-1-1 now," Lisa said, stopping any further discussion and already beginning to dial.

"Can you just put in some stitches? I don't care if the scar is pretty," Sonny begged.

"Maybe last night, but now you also need a transfusion and antibiotics. Too bad you didn't think it important enough to ask for help when this happened," Lisa pointed out.

Grunting, Sonny let his head fall into his chest, knowing that he wasn't winning this argument.

"I'll go make the call. Stella, keep an eye on these two and make sure they don't make any more dumb choices," Lisa said, even as she sent a grateful look Clay's way. Because even with Stella back in the picture, Clay had dropped everything and got himself into a fight just to help Sonny. And Lisa was sincerely thankful knowing that Clay would always be the one standing alongside her on Sonny's self-destructive corner.

Stella just nodded but said nothing, and as Lisa walked out, she had the decency to silently wonder if maybe she should have asked the other woman to call instead. Stella was looking a little green, and her stomach must have been queasy at the sight and smell of all the blood. Another reminder that this world she had chosen was really different to hers, but showing this time she was fully committed to making it work because her love for Clay was greater than her fears.

"Ambulance should be here soon," Lisa said as soon as she stepped back into the room, instantly going back to the floor and sitting next to Sonny. And, against her better judgment, intertwining their fingers together.

"Thank you," Sonny whispered, squeezing her hand weakly.

"Anytime, Sonny, anytime," Lisa promised. And even if the previous day had again shaken their dreams and thrown new hurdles their way, Lisa was certain those words would always be nothing but the truth.

A knock on the door broke the moment, as everyone moved back into action. Stella going to open the door for the paramedics, and Clay moving to Sonny's room to grab his go bag and some clean clothes so he could later change out of the bloodstained ones, while Lisa stayed right by Sonny's side.

With the two stab wounds already packed and their patient stable enough, the paramedics made quick work of loading Sonny into a stretcher and wheeling him down to the waiting ambulance. Lisa, Clay and Stella following close behind.

As they reached the parking lot, Clay and Stella stood to the side while Sonny was moved into the ambulance, Lisa jumping in after him, her posture and scowl daring the paramedics to object. Both Clay and Stella ready to get in her car and follow them to the hospital.

Just before the double doors to the ambulance closed, Lisa looked back at Clay and mouthed a silent thank you. Because as it turned out she wasn't the only one ready to move heaven and earth to keep Sonny safe.

Silently, Clay nodded nonchalantly, moving closer to Stella and drawing her to him. Holding his girlfriend's hand, Clay nodded again, a smile on his face. His eyes telling Lisa all that his words weren't. There was a lot to figure out and Lisa still needed to learn the specifics of what had happened at the bar and to remind Sonny that he needed to take better care of himself, not only for them, but also for his unborn child. But at that moment, Lisa truly believed that in the end everything would be okay. All the proof she needed was standing right in front of her, because just a year ago Clay and Stella seemed impossible, but here they were. And someday in the future, Sonny and Lisa would be too.