#you just get left confused and distraught and without any real understanding of the story

[gaytwirights]

One of my friends got spoiled for the ending of orv by one of her classmates. And it isn't even a proper spoiling where she now knows the ending. It's literally just for the big plot twists. The marvel movie version of orv if you will. I think I might actually hate someone in real life more than I hate myself

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (13)

(Happy Valentine’s Day everybody!!! I’d say that this is a gift for the day, but this is my usual update time lol please enjoy the new chapter anyway! There’s also a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.12 / Ch.14  (ao3)

Chapter 13: I’ll Make You a Deal

Lila stalked the halls of Dupont, doing her best to hide her scowl as she massaged her temples. When she offered to take Marinette’s job as Class President, she hadn’t realized how much extra work she was dumping onto herself. She thought that the title was just that: a title. Nothing more. Nothing less. Sure, she would have to verify a few things, acknowledge her classmates’ opinions towards the school system, and speak out about it as a representative towards them, but that was all. She didn’t expect it to rearrange her entire schedule towards life! Her head was pounding from the late nights of filing student complaints, her back ached from carrying this stupid binder around, and her wrist still twinged with pain from signing too many papers at once. It was ridiculous!

Lying to Bustier about those forms didn’t make it any easier either. Instead of getting to make minor additions to the papers Marinette had already written, she now had to rewrite all of the forms herself. The entire process was a nightmare, and Lila couldn’t escape. If she lied again and said that Marinette gave the forms back, that would be glorifying the girl, and she refused to do that. However, if she lied and said that she simply found the forms again, it would not only make her look suspicious, but also incompetent. She couldn’t have either of those descriptions attached to her person. 

So, that left her with the agonizing option of filling them out again herself. She tried to push it onto Alya, and for the most part, she succeeded. The red-head filled out a good half before handing them back, but that still left Lila with the other half. Thus, she’s spent the last three nights in a row doing nothing but signing form after form after form. The fact that she had to use Marinette’s forms as reference only made it worse. She could practically hear the ravenette laughing at her every time she glanced over the original paperwork. It was utterly humiliating.

And don’t get her started on the amount of requests or complaints that she had to file. Everyday her classmates came to her asking for this or that or “could you change this about our classroom?”. Sometimes they would talk about the seats being too hard or the fact that they didn’t have enough recess or how the stairs were too far apart and someone could trip. Then- oh, then -there were the class trips. One request was a literal trip to Greece. Greece! Did they think she or the school was just made of money? How can they possibly be this greedy or entitled? How was Marinette able to handle it all so easily? She made it look like it was nothing!

Lila clenched her fists at her side, her nails digging into her skin. Even after running from the school with her tail between her legs, Marinette was still acting as a sharp, irritating thorn in Lila’s side. 

Sparkling laughter interrupted her thoughts, and Lila turned to the two boys standing outside of the library entrance. Adrien Agreste, the golden child of the school, and Nino, his little sidekick- as far as Lila was concerned -appeared to be chatting mindlessly on their way back to class, which was typical. Adrien was always talking with somebody now-a-days. That was another problem of hers. 

When Marinette first left, Adrien became distraught and distant. He began muttering to himself and not listening in class, dismissing everyone with a hum and a nod. The other students berated him for the behavior, wonderfully captured in Lila’s beautifully crafted web of words, but he hardly heard them. Or if he did, he didn’t care. He continued to write things in his notebook that certainly weren’t lesson notes and run his hand through his hair with frustration when he hit some sort of wall. 

It was irritating, of course, but nothing Lila hadn’t expected. Marinette was supposed to be his “very good friend”, after all. She would have been surprised if he hadn’t mourned the loss. What she didn’t anticipate, though, was the way he bounced back. 

It had to have happened a little over two weeks after Marinette left, because Lila remembered finally starting to feel comfortable in her new role of being able to lie unchallenged. She was spewing some crap about Marinette sending her mean messages, making sure her tears looked real enough and her sobs were believable, when Adrien decided to jump into the conversation. He flashed her a bright smile and, in the kindest voice she’d ever heard, asked her for the texts that Marinette had sent. 

The question alone had surprised her, considering the fact that he hadn’t really spoken to anyone in a while, but that smile he held was really the thing to set her on edge. It was simply too sweet-looking for someone who had just indirectly asked for proof of her story, especially when they both knew that she was lying. 

She couldn’t understand the change. He’d been cowering in the corner for the last two weeks, and yet that day, he was out for blood on her account. Why? What was the difference between the last two weeks and that day? She still doesn’t know. 

Adrien’s determination towards outing her cranked up to eleven after that . He went from barely talking to one person throughout the day to talking with everyone on a constant basis, and anytime Lila so much as uttered a sentence, he was there asking questions. When did she do this, who helped her with that, how did she manage to get from one place to the other so quickly- from a naïve onlooker’s point of view, Adrien would simply appear to be interested in Lila’s stories, but she knew better. He was finding holes in her stories and using them to rip apart her words piece by piece, all while using an innocent yet confused expression to make it seem like he was trying to help her. The strategy was completely different from Marinette’s, and it ticked Lila off to no end. How was she supposed to turn crowds against him and regain her throne if he kept acting like some pure-hearted angel?

She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t, and he knew that she couldn’t, because that’s the exact same tactic that eventually got Marinette to leave the school.

A part of her had hoped that this newfound passive-aggression would fade after a few days, but now that three weeks of constant badgering on Adrien’s account has passed, that hope has been thoroughly and relentlessly crushed. He hasn’t done much over those weeks, thankfully, but she’s had to reinforce her lies ten times the normal amount to keep it that way. That’s a tad hard to do when all of your stories are on the grand scale of things. 

Even with her meticulous planning and words choices, though, one can’t escape subtle confrontation forever. She could tell that people were slowly starting to become suspicious of her stories. They were either wanting Adrien to be around during their discussions with her or were looking for holes themselves. 

Watching them exchange glances during her stories made her blood boil. Why did they have to be so nosy? So picky? Can’t she have a reprieve for once in her entire life? Can’t she just lie and manipulate others without the fear of getting caught? Why did that feel like such a big request from the universe?

Adrien and Nino waved to each other, and Lila perked up. It looked like they were separating. Were they separating? Oh, please be separating. That would be the most convenient thing to happen to her all month.

Adrien split off from Nino, to her delight, and Lila beelined after the blond. His meddling had gone on long enough, and she thought it was high time someone put an end to it. That someone being her. 

“Adrien!” Lila cooed, looping her arm with his and flashing a bright smile. “It’s been forever since we’ve talked just one on one, don’t you think?”

Adrien’s steps faltered, and for the briefest of moments, she saw his eyes darken. Nobody else would have noticed, especially not with the friendly smile he gave her right after, but Lila caught it. She was the only one who realized how truly despicable the model could be. 

“Oh, hey Lila.” He replied with an easy, clearly fake smile. “I guess we haven’t talked alone in a while. You normally like to be at the center of the crowd.”

Lila tried not to grit her teeth and instead elected to flip her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say the center. I’m just being myself, and the others seem to follow.”

Adrien hummed. “Yes, I’m sure you're a wonderful role model for all of us. It isn’t everyday we get the courtesy of having an honest and kind friend like you.”

His sarcasm was palpable, but his shining smile remained. A part of her wondered why he even bothered acting at this point. They both knew they were at war now. Niceties were only necessary when someone was clueless towards hidden motives. Adrien wasn’t, and neither was she, yet here they were. Smiling and trading snide remarks in the privacy of the empty locker room. 

Lila put on a bashful expression. “Oh, please-”

“Of course,” Adrien interrupted her, “there was also Marinette. She was always ready to help someone. It’s a shame she had to transfer schools.”

Lila bit the inside of her cheek to avoid sneering. There he goes again, mentioning that ridiculous baker girl. It’s so infuriating.

“Even though she was a bully? I’m sorry, Adrien, but I don’t think you should forgive someone so easily. They’ll walk all over you if you give them too much leeway.”

Adrien slipped- or rather jerked -his arm out of Lila’s grasp as he exchanged some of his books. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”  

Ah, there it is. That might have been the first genuine comment he’s made during this discussion. 

“What was that?” She asked with feigned politeness.

Adrien straightened and gave her another innocent smile. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if this could all be a big misunderstanding? The phone number that was terrorizing you wasn’t Marinette’s, after all. If you were.. mistaken.. on that story, perhaps you missed something in your other stories. Don’t you think so?”

Lila forced a smile so wide that her cheeks started to hurt. Was this his way of giving her an out? A last chance of mercy? Because if it was, she refused to take it. She’s built this kingdom with nothing but her bare hands, and she’d be darned if she decided to lie down and let him take it away just as quickly. 

“I can’t say I do.”

Adrien closed his locker, a certain glint coming to his eyes when he looked at her. “Well.. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what I find. Won’t we?” 

Rage crackled through Lila’s bones as Adrien walked past her, but she caught herself before doing anything rash. If she was going to counter Adrien’s sudden attacks, she needed to make a deal with him and get him off of her back just long enough to plan. And to do that, she needed to promise him what he apparently wanted most.

“What if it wasn’t her?”

Adrien stopped in the doorway, and Lila held her breath.

“..Because it wasn’t her,” he corrected, “I’ll be hoping that she comes back.”

Lila drew in a deep breath, if only to avoid screaming. Marinette, Marinette, Marinette- Why did he have to have to be so infatuated with Marinette? What could she possibly have that made Adrien want to fight against the whole school to get her back? 

“Alright..” She said, completely calm. “Say you were right. If it happened to turn out that Marinette wasn’t the one responsible and I convince her to come back, will we all be able to get along?”

Bile rose to her mouth as she spoke. The very thought of running back to Marinette and asking her to come back to Dupont made Lila’s stomach churn, but this was fine. She was only promising to bring Marinette back. Promises can easily be broken.

Adrien smiled, but not like the fake, warm smiles he’d been giving her throughout their conversation. No, this one was sharp, predatory, as though he could see right through her words.

“See you in class, Lila.”

The “golden child” left the locker room then, and Lila finally gave in to her frustration and let out a growl. This was supposed to be her victory, her turf, and yet she can’t even enjoy it anymore because Adrien freaking Agreste decided to meddle in business that wasn’t his. He knew that the only reason she was willing to compromise was because he was getting to her, and that burned her up inside. 

She drew in another deep breath and smoothed out her miniature ponytails. This was fine. Everything was fine. Adrien might be deciding to join the squabble a tad later than usual, but Lila invented this game. If he wanted to try his hand at her tactics and strategies, fine. He would soon realize why she was able to climb to the top in the first place.

~~~~~~~

Marinette stared out the car window with awe as they drove up the street towards Allegra’s estate. In the week that led to the group sleepover, Marinette had racked her brain day and night trying to decide what the mansion would be like. How tall would it be? How wide? Would it take up an entire street or a small square of Paris like Gabriel’s? Would there be butlers running around like in the movies or would there be a simple maid or two to keep things moving? Perhaps there wouldn’t be any hired hand at all? The excitement and anticipation made her buzz and bounce through the last few school days at Rosemary, but she refused to ask any questions during the wait for winter break. Marinette wanted the mansion to be a complete surprise. And now that she was finally here, sitting in the backseat of Allegra’s miniature limo and practically pressing her face against the window, she couldn’t be happier with that decision.

Mansions of all kinds lined the sidewalks, bigger and more elegant than she could have ever imagined. Some had marvelous fountains, while others had incredible gardens. Some had amazing walls with ingrained art that lined the premises, and one mansion even had horses grazing on their front lawn! It made her wonder why Gabriel would build his mansion in the middle of the city, or if any of these mansions might belong to Claude, Allan, or Felix. 

Near the end of the street rested a long brick wall that had elaborate, white statues decorating the major corners. Marinette guessed immediately that that was Allegra’s mansion, because the wall wrapped around an enormous white house that had silver railings for the balconies and blue-ish grey tiles for the rooftops, quite contrary to the golds and dark browns that came with the other mansions. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and that seemed like something Allegra would enjoy, even if the house belonged directly to her parents. 

Sure enough, the car rolled to a stop in front of the black metal gate that the brick walls led to, and the driver told Marinette to stay put as he hopped out of the vehicle. She watched quietly as he unlocked the gate by hand using a personal key and quickly found herself wiggling in her seat when he started pushing the gates open. They were so close! Allegra’s mansion was right there! If they didn’t start moving again in two seconds, Marinette might just jump out and start running.

The driver got back into the car with a small apology for the inconvenience- to which she assured him that it was fine through barely contained squeals -and they continued through the gate at a leisure pace, which killed Marinette inside. She wanted to get into the mansion now!

In an effort to remain still, her eyes flicked around the front lawn of the estate. The driveway they had pulled into appeared to be a full circle, looping around an intricate water fountain that spouted bursts of water in such a way that made the water look as though it were dancing.  Diamonds of dark green grass cut through the concrete in the driveway, leading to the rest of the vibrant grass on the lawn, and a delightful mix of bushes and flowers lined the inside of the brick wall as well the outside of the mansion. It struck Marinette as quaint and refined at the same time, and her respects went out to the person- or persons -responsible for designing and maintaining the look.

Finally, the limo parked in front of these wide, marble steps that led to the front door, and the driver barely had time to open Marinette’s back door before she leapt out with her bags in her arms. If the outside was this luxurious, she couldn’t wait to see how breathtaking the inside would be. 

“Thanks for the ride, sir!” She called over her shoulder as she hopped up the steps two-by-two.

“Oh, miss-!” The man yelled after her. “May I take your bags?”

Marinette skidded to a halt and turned around, ready to politely decline his offer, when another voice spoke up behind her.

“No need, Louis! I’ve got them.”

Marinette whirled back around, coming face to face with Allegra, who was now standing in the doorway with a bright smile. 

The blonde reached forward to take the bags with one hand, while giving Marinette a side hug with the other. “I’m so happy you’re here! This is going to be great.”

“I know! I’ve been waiting for this all week! Your house looks amazing.”

A grin spread across Allegra’s lips, and she pulled back from the hug in favor of grabbing Marinette’s hand. “If you like it now, just wait till you see the inside.”

The two girls waltzed inside together, but as soon as she entered, Marinette couldn’t help gasping and breaking away from Allegra to run further into the house. Tiled, marble floors stretched out before her, seemingly farther than the street she had just driven down, and on the other side of the bigger-than-life foyer was a set of large, open windows that touched from the floor of the first level to the ceiling of the second level. They overlooked the backyard, which was equally as enchanting as the front yard, and a part of her had the urge to sit down and stare at them wistfully for a good hour or two.

To her left and right were a pair of long, curved stairs that led to the second floor. They matched the marble tiles on the first floor and had beautiful, metal railings that curled and twisted into different types of flowers and leaves. The railing also trailed off to the open hallways above, where Marinette could see different types of doors lined up. Her restless brain wanted to skip up the stairs, brush her hand across the smooth, black railing, and explore each and every room possible.

Her gaze dragged up to the ceiling, and her jaw fell slack yet again as she realized exactly how high the building was. The circular sunroof that signified the center of the ceiling felt higher than the Eiffel Tower itself, and Marinette was certain that if she called out, it would take at least five seconds to hear her voice echoing back to her.

“Well?” Allegra asked next to her. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Marinette blanched. “Allegra, this is incredible! Do you really live here?”

A musical laugh came from the blonde, and she nodded. “Yep. Ever since I was five. Come on, I’ll give you a tour!”

They made their way to the stairs, and Marinette eagerly ran her hand across the cool railings as she continued to look around. She couldn’t believe how astonishing everything looked. It was as though they’d taken the finest jewels and rocks on earth and merged them together to create this mansion. How did they even afford all of this?

“What did you say your mom did again?”

Allegra glanced over at her. “My mom? She’s a-”

“Hey!”

The two girls paused mid step and looked up at the open hallway. Claude stood just above them, leaning over the railing and waving with a wide grin. Allan stood behind him, also offering the girls a friendly smile as a greeting.

“Is that Marinette?” Claude called.

“Yep! She just got here.”

“Sweet!” The brunette cheered. He dashed from his place upstairs and, once he got a good enough momentum, jumped to a stop, using his socks to slide the rest of the way to the stairwell. “We’ve been waiting forever for you to show up!”

Marinette giggled and ran up the rest of the stairway to give Claude a hug. “I got my clothes together as fast as I could.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Allan assured as he came to join them. “You’re technically early anyway.”

“I thought I was.” Marinette remarked, pulling away from Claude to give Allan a small hug as well. “Is Felix here too?”

“Nope, it’s just us right now.” Claude answered with a smile. “We already had clothes here from previous sleepovers.”

“They practically have their own personal closets at this point.” Allegra snorted. Then, she gave Marinette a playful nudge. “And soon, so will you.”

Marinette smiled. She wasn’t sure that she even had enough clothes to fill another closet, but it didn’t stop her from feeling giddy towards receiving one. Having a personal closet at Allegra’s meant she would be coming over much more often, and that was something she desperately wanted to do at this point.

“Have you shown her around yet?” Claude asked.

“Nope. I was gonna show her my room first, though, so I can put her bags down in there.”

“Oh, good idea.” The brunette remarked, taking the opportunity to snag Marinette’s bags from Allegra’s hands. “Let’s go! You’re gonna love it, Mari.”

With everyone together- save for Felix -the group eagerly clambered down the hallway that Claude and Allan had previously been in. The black railway from the staircase continued to twist down the hall next to Marinette, and when it finally stopped at a wall, Claude stopped at a doorway to his right. Glittering stickers arched across the door, spelling out the word “Allegra”.

“Those are from when I was, like, nine.” Allegra commented, a hint of a blush on her cheeks as she opened her bedroom door.

Marinette was about to say that it was fine- she actually found the lettering to be endearing -but any form of words or replies were lost on her when she saw the bedroom for the first time.

Everything was covered in light purples and white, with occasional bits of gold and light blue to accent the room. An enormous, deep purple bed with swirling, golden patterns sat in the center, holding pillows that were bigger than Marinette’s bed alone and a comfort that looked fluffier than her warmest ear-muffs. A pair of blue, see-through curtains wrapped around the bed as well, reminding her of something a princess might own. 

Across the room- which was twice the size of her little attic bedroom -were two white shelves that stretched from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. They held various things such as books, notebooks, miniature glass statues, and plenty of other trinkets that struck Marinette as charming. She wondered how long it must have taken Allegra to collect such things, or if she bought them all in one go as she decorated her room. There were even a few crystal wind-chimes hanging around the room. 

“This is..” Marinette wasn’t sure what it was as she walked inside, star-struck. The girl even had her own chandelier, for Pete’s sake! Then there was the massive vanity with a million different types of eyeshadow- all aligned perfectly in an orderly fashion -and the massive desk on the other side of the room that had a fancy paperweight and a nice, little trinket to hold all of Allegra’s pencils and such for school. Don’t get her started on the chair hanging from the ceiling that looked equally fancy and comfortable.

“Do I really get to sleep in here?” She eventually asked instead. Words couldn’t describe her thoughts on the room or how it looked like something out of a daydream. 

Allegra laughed. “Yep! We’re actually going to be spending most of the night here.”

“After we go swimming, of course.” Claude added as he set Marinette’s bags down in the walk-in closet.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the remark. She’d almost forgotten why she came here in the first place. “Where is the swimming pool?”

“It’s downstairs.” Allegra answered. “I can’t wait for you to see it. We have a water slide and everything.”

Marinette would have gasped, but after what she’s seen so far, she wouldn’t be surprised if they had their own personal zoo. “Can we go see it?”

“Absolutely!” The blonde smiled, looping her arm with Marinette’s. “But first, we need to finish our tour.”

The group made their way out of Allegra’s room and started exploring each door they passed. Claude, Allan, and Allegra took turns explaining each room’s purpose to Marinette, and she absorbed their words as best she could. Most of the time, though, she was lost in her thoughts, completely awed by the structure of the household.

Each room appeared to be bigger than the last, and some of them had Marinette nearly falling over from the amount of money that had to have gone into the décor. There were offices and dining halls and bigger bedrooms for Allegra’s parents. Then there were game rooms with pool tables and living rooms with couches that stretched around the entire room so everyone could see each other. Vases and sculptures lined the hallways and hid in the corners while extensive family portraits littered walls and held personal places on overly huge fireplaces. 

In a word, the entire mansion was extravagant, especially for a three-person family, but despite the overwhelming amount of space, Marinette could feel the warmth and familial love of each room. A multitude of memories resided in the walls, and she couldn’t wait to hear all of them.

One room in particular caught her attention the most.

“What is this place?” Marinette asked as she walked into another wide-spread room. Musical instruments of all kinds littered the area- harps, violins, cellos, pianos, guitars, mandolins, and other things she couldn’t even name. They all appeared to be in mint condition, so clean that she could see her reflection in them, and the little kid in Marinette wanted to run around and try each one of them.

“This,” Allegra said next to her, “is our music room.”

“Music room..” Marinette whispered as her hand ran over a pair of literal bongos. “Can you actually play all of these?”

Claude snorted behind them. “She definitely wishes she could.”

Allegra scoffed and smacked his arm with a playful glare. 

“No, I can’t play all of them.. But I’m working on it.”

“Wow.” Marinette muttered. That had to be time consuming. Where did she find the drive to keep practicing all of these? 

“..Can I touch them?”

“Oh, yeah! Touch them all. Go crazy. I can even teach you how to play a little tune for some of them if you want.”

Marinette lit up. “Can you really?”

Allegra chuckled. “Of course. We have all night, don’t we?”

Marinette had to bite her tongue to avoid squealing again, and she promptly darted off to try everything she could. Any strings and keys would be briefly plucked and pressed before being cast away for the next instrument. She would thump on the drums and blow on the tubas and, occasionally, she would stop to try a few simple tunes on an instrument that sounded especially enchanting to her. 

After about thirty minutes of this heaven- there were a lot of instruments -someone knocked on the doorframe at the front of the room, gathering the group’s attention.

A man with light brown hair stood in the doorway, offering an easy, yet apologetic smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Allegra, who had been teaching Marinette how to play the Panda Drum, hopped up from her position on the floor to greet him with a hug. “Not at all! I was just showing Marinette around the house. Mari, this is my dad, Arthur. Dad, this is Marinette, my friend from school that I’ve been telling you about.”

Marinette set the drum aside and stood up as well. “It’s nice to meet you, M. Chanson.”

“Oh, please.” M. Chanson held up a dismissive hand. “Just call me Arthur. Or even Uncle Arthur, if you like.”

A soft smile spread across Marinette’s lips, and she nodded. He sounded exactly like Maman when someone new came to their house.

“Anyway, I just came by to drop off the last bit of your group. He found me in the kitchen while looking for you.” Arthur said. He then stepped to the side to reveal none other than Felix, who had apparently been standing behind him the whole time.

Marinette perked up at the sight of the blond. “Oh, Felix! You’re here!”

“Here late.” Claude added with a smirk.

Felix shot him a look. “I’m not late. I told you all that I wouldn’t quite be here at the same time as everyone else.”

“Telling us that you’re going to be late doesn’t mean that you weren’t late.” Allegra pointed out. “It just means that you were considerate about your tardiness.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was correct, and Marinette pursed her lips to avoid laughing, because she also knew that Allegra was correct.

“So I see you’ve been showing her my instruments?” Arthur cut in, redirecting the conversation.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “These are your instruments?”

Arthur chuckled. “Yep. In fact, I taught Allegra everything she knows.”

“You mean you can actually play all of them?”

“Well, some better than others,” The man responded with a half shrug, “but yeah. I’m honestly a little disappointed that A didn’t come get me when she showed you the room.”

Allegra winced. “Oh, sorry, Dad. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“That’s amazing..” Marinette remarked, dumbfounded. She couldn’t imagine having enough memory to know how each individual instrument was played. 

Arthur tilted his head back and forth with a hum. “I wouldn’t say amazing. A lot of these instruments are extremely similar to how they’re played, and at some point, once you’ve learned enough, you start to realize that a lot of music has a certain order to it. When you know that order, it makes playing a lot easier.”

“Oh, don’t be modest.” Allegra scolded. “Who else can play almost all of the instruments of the world and memorize any new instruments within a week?”

Before Arthur could respond, Allegra turned to Marinette with a proud smile and continued.

“Dad’s able to combine these instruments like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. It’s like he’s memorized every string, key, or chord possible! He’s even written songs for us too. Some of them are just funny little melodies to go with Claude’s acts, but others are full songs that he performs for me and Mom. Sometimes, when Mom’s stressed, he’ll sing or play for her to help her relax. I personally think that the songs he writes then are the best ones.”

The more she talked, the more bashful Arthur became, and Marinette couldn’t help cooing at the man. The thought of someone writing songs for the person they loved and singing them when that person felt down brought a wonderful warmth to her chest. It actually reminded her of another sweet boy she knew, one with blue-tipped hair and a smile that could melt the arctic.

“I have a friend like that.” She decided to say. Why not tell the others about him too? “He has a passion for the guitar and plays songs for me when I feel down too. It’s so calming.”

Something in her tone or expression must have caught their interest, because the group’s attention shifted from Allegra to Marinette in an instant. Before she could ask about the sudden change, Claude slipped an arm around her shoulders, flashing her a sly grin.

“Oh? A friend, you say?” He drawled. “You sound pretty fond of him. What’s his name?”

An involuntary blush crept across Marinette’s cheeks, more so at the implication in Claude’s voice than anything else. After two years of hanging around Alya, with her raised eyebrows and coy smiles, she could tell when someone was trying to accuse her of certain feelings towards another. 

“O-Oh. uhm.. His name is Luka.”

“Luka..” Allegra hummed. “I’ve never heard you mention his name before.”

“And I’ve never seen her blush like that before, either.” Claude teased. “You’re not being very subtle, Nette.”

Marinette felt her blush deepen, even though they both knew she was easily flustered. She’s probably blushed a million times in the month that she’s known them, and most of those blushes were definitely darker than the one she was wearing even now.

Her gaze flicked to Felix, curious as to what he thought on the matter. His expression remained neutral, though she spotted a bit of intrigue in his eyes. It didn’t help with her guilt towards the comments.

Then again, why should she feel guilty? Even if she did like Luka, that wouldn’t affect anyone here. There was no reason to be ashamed.

Nevertheless, she still wanted to slip her way out of getting teased, so she jokingly rolled her eyes and said, “You guys said we were going to go swimming, right? Felix is here, and it’s getting dark so we should probably change before it gets too late.”

“The pool is indoors.” Claude helpfully reminded. “It doesn’t matter how late it gets.”

“But that was a good try at dodging, though.” Allegra smirked.

A squeak flew from Marinette’s lips before she could stop it, and the trio shared a laugh.

“Come on, guys.” Allan lightly scolded. “If you keep messing with her like this, she might spontaneously combust.”

Another laugh tumbled from Claude’s lips before he let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, fine. I guess we can go swimming now.”

“Marinette has to cool off, anyway.” Allegra added with a wink.

Marinette groaned and put her head in her hands, if only to hide her ever-growing blush. 

Mental note: Never mention a boy to the group again, because they will probably see right through you when it’s actually serious.

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 

[amethystpath-writes]

Love Potion/ Love Spell

Original work

Love potion/spell

******

"Oh my god; I'm in bed with Villain," Hero said as she jolted straight up upon seeing the body beside her. She looked down at herself. She was still clothed and she found herself being somewhat disappointed. Still, Hero muttered again, slightly happier than before, "I'm in bed with Villain."

There was a shuffle in the bed. Villain turned onto his other shoulder, peering at Hero, only able to see her because of the moonlight which flitted just between the blinds. "That sounded less concerning than the first. You almost seemed to be scared of being in bed with me. Should I be worried?"

A chuckle slipped from Hero. "No, I just- we- I'm- and you-" She laughed again, this time due to her spluttering mess of words. "I can't believe I'm here with you. I feel like...like this is something I've wanted for so long, and now- I mean, I'm- I can't believe I'm in bed with you now. It almost doesn't feel like I should be here."

Villain reached out, took her hand, and brought it to his lips. "Believe me, dear, you're exactly where you are meant to be." He asked, "Did you have a bad dream, my sweet? You seem offset."

"I- well, I don't know actually." Her eyes became squinted. She left her hand in Villain's. It felt warm there. Comforting. How had she never thought of holding Villain's hand before? "I can't remember how...How did I get here?"

"Is there something wrong? Should I have one of the medics come down and-"

"Medics? No. No, I'm fine. I just-" Hero took her hand back so that she could hold her head, as if that would help her sort out the puzzle which was her mind. "I don't understand what's happening. The last thing I remember...we were fighting and- and I don't know what else. That's all I remember."

Villain hummed, scooted closer to her, and took her back into his arms and chest. "I'm going to go make you some warm tea. How does that sound?"

She nodded. "Tea sounds good." She leaned her head against his shoulder. Hero couldn't say why she felt so comfortable with him in this moment, especially seeing as her last memory was of the two of them fighting. But being warmed by what heat he put off now, being held by him, and having him kiss her hand...It all just somehow felt right, like they'd always been like this with one another. Maybe it really was possible that she dreamt the fight.

But then why didn't she remember anything before then? Why couldn't she recall laying in bed with Villain before? Why could she only remember throwing fists at him that he easily caught? She didn't remember taking a liking to Villain. But it was clear to her now as she let herself be embraced by him in a bed they obviously shared that they liked- maybe even loved each other. Hero felt guilty, not knowing why she loved him. Something was wrong with her. There had to have been.

What happened next both shocked and delighted her. Villain grabbed her chin lightly, despite his always-calloused fingers- and turned her head so that he could capture her lips. He didn't force the kiss on Hero. He gave her time to pull away, but she didn't. Hero wanted the kiss. She leaned in and let him kiss her, just as she kissed him.

Villain released Hero and began scooting off of the bed. "I'll be back with your tea. Honey, not sugar, right?"

"Yeah. Lots of honey." She smiled at him, but before he walked through the door, she asked, "Did something happen to me?"

"What do you mean, darling?"

"My memory. Why don't I remember anything?"

Villain sighed and gave a mock smile before coming to the foot of the bed and sitting just in front of Hero's feet, which were still beneath the comforter. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask so soon, but I guess it makes sense you would. Missing memories is a hard thing to miss." He looked towards the window and Hero swore she saw tears glimmering in his eyes.

"Supervillain, he- uh- finally managed to capture you." A broken, aggravated laugh. "Wiped away nearly all of your memories until you were just this- this vessel without any purpose." Villain swallowed, put a hand over where Hero's feet were. He looked into Hero's eyes and she felt her heart throbbing faster. "Supervillain left the ones where you and he fought but- but he-"

Did Villain sniffle just now?

Hero listened as he continued to explain. "He replaced every image of himself with me. Made it so that you could never fully adjust back to your old life with me because...because every time you look at me, you'll see this- this absolutely abhorrent monster that tortured you. But I would never do that. Okay, Hero? I would never hurt you."

"Have I ever- Have I ever tried to attack you before? Because of my messed up memories?"

Solemnly, Villain nodded. "But it's okay. I know why you do it, and I don't blame you."

His hand squeezed Hero's feet. In a reassuring way, she thought, Not a cruel one. Hero hated that she had to tell herself this. Did he ever do that and Hero think he was going to hurt her? She hoped not.

"I'm going to go make you your tea now, alright?"

Hero nodded after a deep breath. Tea fixes everything. It seemed Supervillain let her keep that bit of knowledge at least.

***

While Villain went to get her tea, Hero began pondering. Memories were flipping through her mind, all of which being how Villain said; he was the enemy in them all, and he always hurt her in the most brutal of ways.

A part of Hero considered Villain actually was an enemy. How could he not be with all of these memories? Well, that was easy, really; Hero loved him. And she wouldn't love him if he'd been the enemy all along. Maybe she couldn't remember how she came to love him, but it was evident in the way her heart sped up when she realized she laid beside him, and even more when he began to speak to her.

But what if the increased heart rate was because of an embedded fear? Not from Supervillain, but from herself. Wasn't it possible that Villain was responsible for her loss of memories?

No. No, because then why would he leave such horrid memories of himself? To make a story.

No!

Hero couldn't make up her mind. It was being pulled in so many directions, producing so many thoughts at once that she couldn't keep up. She needed to think about what she knew.

So what was that? What did Hero know that was concrete? The only thing that came to mind was how much she loved laying beside Villain, how she loved the warmth he put off, the way he gave her pet names, the way he held and kissed her hand. She loved Villain. That was true. Which meant that his story had to have been true about Supervillain.

But what if-

The door creaked open and Villain stepped in with a mug in hand. He came to Hero's bedside and nearly set the tea on her nightstand, but he seemed to notice Hero's distraught face.

"It's happening again. I can see it."

Hero hummed her confusion.

"You're questioning things again. It's okay; I get it." His feet shuffled for a moment and Hero could tell he was trying to think of what to say next. "Listen, I'm going to leave you to your thoughts, but if you have any questions, or you need reassurance or whatever, just- shake me awake or shove me or something. I'm here for you, Hero. Alright?"

"Okay." Hero nodded for what felt like the tenth time this night- or day. It has to be at least 4am right now.

"Oh!" Villain exclaimed quietly, holding the mug. "Go ahead and have a taste real quick." He handed the mug to Hero, explaining, "I wasn't sure if I added enough honey or not. Or maybe added too much. The water was an amber colour after I was done squeezing that bear." He chuckled and Hero took a sip.

"That's- wow. Yeah, no. That's good. That's- gosh, it's perfect. Remind me to always have you make my tea."

Villain smiled. "I would be happy to. I'm glad you like it." He rounded the bed, sliding in under his side of the blankets.

Hero whispered rather sleepily after setting her tea on the nightstand, "Goodnight. I love you, Villain."

"I love you, too, my doll." He pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead as she rolled over to face him. When she closed her eyes, he satisfyingly closed his own.

[bookwyrminspiration]

is it still council-hating hours? even if not, this is something that's been bothering me for....so long. and i am going to explode if i don't say it right now. (In fact i actually have a doc titled "council incompetence rant" that is. getting a little long.)

One of the things that annoys me the most in Keeper is how utterly incompetent the Council is. They are shit at their jobs! They don't make sense! And that would be fine if that was something that was explored and talked about in the story, but it's not?

Like, sure, it's brushed on a little, but Keeper never goes in-depth in order to explain just how flawed and corrupt the system is! We have no idea how far the rot goes because we haven't been given a chance to see how far it goes, and despite the earlier books being really great setup for all kinds of plots and discussions surrounding the Council, it feels like Messenger is completely dropping that in favor of..."Neverseen Bad, Council + Black Swan Good". Which I call fucking bullshit on, by the way, because this series has gone to pretty decent lengths before to show that it's not the case! So WHY are we getting to that now?

Well, I think all of this is the symptom of a bigger problem.

Note: I don't want to be mean, and please tell me if I'm being too critical here, but this series has some serious problems actually delivering on what it's saying.

Like, it's trying to tell us that Sophie shouldn't be doing all this because she's a kid, but then it treats her very own existence as a project as background information when that should absolutely be at the forefront (like it was in earlier books)!

It's trying to tell us that discrimination against the Talentless is bad, but then every single member of it's cast has an ability, has a strong ability, and regularly uses their ability! Even Dex, who could have easily been talentless and good with tech, gets to be a Super Good Gadget Person thanks to his ability as opposed to his own creativity and ingenuity.

It's trying to tell us that maybe banishing children is bad, but also tells us that Exillium is now """fixed""" because Oralie gave them...better tents? Food? And never touches on the fact that children are still. getting. banished. It doesn't explore Tam's anger in detail, Linh is only there to be the token asian girl, it does nothing to fully dispel any thought of the Council being alright.

And it's trying to tell us that the Council fucks up, it's showing us that Councillors have no problem being incredibly selfish and violent and so many other terrible things, but that never changes. Nothing in Keeper is changing. It is only maintaining the status quo!

I'm confused as to what Messenger is trying to tell her readers! Are the Council good or bad? Is working with the Council good or bad? Are the Black Swan and Neverseen actually morally grey? Should I be angry at what's happening in these books? Am I meant to look at all the rot and shrug because "that's just how it is"?

And like...I wouldn't be mad if Keeper was just...bad! I mean, I would, but I wouldn't be as distraught! What really grinds my gears is that Keeper has the chance to be good. It has the chance to do great things - and at times it absolutely does! - but it keeps reinforcing belief in a deeply flawed and broken system that is regularly hurting people. And those examples were just off the top of my head!

And again, if this was explored within the series, that would be amazing, but the problem is that it's...not. And that's just...a real fuckin' shame, honestly.

- pyro

(sorry if this was like...too angry? i started and then kinda just...couldn't stop. i should probably get a hobby that's not tearing a middle grade series apart. oops.)

it may have been over a week since you sent this (thank you for being patient with me!!), but fuck yes it is still council hating hours. it is always council hating hours in this household that is not actually a house. (also that incompetence rant sounds intriguing)

yes! you are right! they are so bad at what they're supposed to be doing it's like they're just figures for people to look to and say "yea they'll take care of it" to keep everyone else from acting out! but it's really interesting to see a government so awful and incompetent be such an integral and influential part of the story...without acknowledging that they're actually really bad? I know in Unlocked there's a line where Shannon says something like "Sophie had to figure out who the bad guys were: the black swan? the council? someone else entirely?" but then it's never touched on again that I can remember. Thinking through the series, I honestly can't think of a situation that the council, of their own volition, saw was an issue and corrected in a way that was beneficial to those who needed it. Like yea, Oralie gave money to Exillium, but that was after Sophie chewed her out about it. I think i've said it before but in case not: it feels like they've taken the "for the good of the many over the good of the few" ideology too far in a society that doesn't work for. If someone threatens the majority (and often that's just in appearance only) they get rid of them to preserve the image of the rest. It doesn't care about their people, it cares about the majority of people feeling undisturbed.

considering Sophie is part of a huge organization created literally because their society, led by that system, isn't working for a lot of people, they (the Black Swan) sure do go along with the council a whole lot. I think one of the linked posts in one of my masterposts is specifically about how making the Black Swan work so closely with the council screwed them over and completely undermined everything they were working towards. I'm going to make a very vague comparison here, but the Black Swan feel like "we need to fix the system" while the Neverseen are "the system is broken lets start over" (except the Neverseen added a lot more violence into the mix). It's absolutely infuriating to have them working side by side: one, because the Black Swan aren't accomplishing any of their goals and should cut their losses and go back to being mysterious underground groups with more freedom to move (in my opinion), but two, because it makes the council seem like it's trying to fix things when really it feels like a publicity thing to make the public think they're addressing the rebel issue while they're really just showing up in places and causing problems. And!! that's another thing! it feels like their collaboration with the Black Swan is to address the problem of having rebels, not the problems these rebels have identified and are trying to fix. Unfortunately, it seems the council is getting their way more than the Black Swan, getting them to act more legally and work closer with less room for working outside the system. if that makes sense.

considering it's literally stated in unlocked that there is no "good" and "bad," there does seem to be a lot of focus on associating the Black Swan with being Right, and the Neverseen with being Wrong. I can hope that it's the outward reactions to the Black Swan realizing they've done some fucked up stuff (Sophie) and are now overcompensating and trying to make sure their every move is the correct one. But I do think it will be interesting to see if Sophie makes the connection in canon (as she's already started to) that there isn't always a right option, there's just the best you can do with a situation and the Black Swan's insistence that she was "in the wrong" (a summary) helps her realize her own values and think through their decisions with her own perspective instead of just trusting them

response to your note: you're fine! you bring up a good point that this book sounds like it wanted to be a unique perspective (by having the "good guys" also be questionable and give the "bad guys" reasonable motives) but the execution misses the mark for a lot of us. so you're qualms and observations are entirely valid and I don't think you're being mean at all! I think you're expressing a frustration you have with something, which I support and encourage.

at times it feels like Shannon bit off more than she could chew in terms of all the complicated things she could get into when it comes to this series. not saying she's doing a bad job or a horrible author or anything, just that there are some things she introduced that kind of get left behind or unexplored because there's so much else going on. I think we can see that in the whole being experiment part of Sophie life. we saw sophie was uncomfortable with it in the first few books and would sometimes bring it up, but I personally would've been more satisfied if she'd either taken the time to process it (opposed to her think about that later strategy) or come to the realization that no, she isn't okay with it and she deserves to have her thoughts on the matter heard. she was literally created to serve someone elses purpose, and brought into the fight too early at that. and yet it's treated like an "oopsie, guess we just gotta go with it" thing, like this minor part of her story when I bet her thinking about it for more than a minute at a time would absolutely wreck her. but I'm getting caught up in this, so moving on!

I think we can see it in the talentless too, as it's treated like a "that doesn't affect me" thing for Sophie. because she doesn't have any friends that are talentless right now--the closest she's got is Marella, who I think is still legally considered talentless with her pyrokinesis. it's been acknowledged that she doesn't think the way talentless are treated is right, but it doesn't impact her right now so she's not really doing anything about it. maybe if this was brought back later with someone like Jensi, then that would be a satisfying conclusion to this issue (not a conclusion, but it wouldn't be left hanging, if that makes sense). And I can understand the benefit of leaving things open to go back and explore later from a writers perspective, but at a certain point it becomes more of a hindrance to the story than anything else.

and exillium! I have so many thoughts on Exillium that I actually started talking about it earlier in this post. They're not doing anything unless prompted and what they do is the bare minimum. With the tents and the food, they aren't fixing Exillium, they're making it into what it should've been at the very least were they going to actually go down that route. So I can't praise them for it when it's just basic decency to provide literal children with food and shelter when you force them to be somewhere they don't want to. But all this doesn't fix Exillium, because the problem is that it exists in the first place. The problem is that the council saw children who were struggling, and decided the best thing to do with them was to just get them out of the way for everyone else. Three coaches total for leadership? yeah, there's no way that place was ever supposed to be "alternate learning" or however Oralie phrased it, that was just so you could say you hadn't completely abandoned them in the middle of nowhere.

you're so right about the council fucks up bit--I think the most obvious example of this is with Sophie's ability restrictor. Yea, she's not wearing it anymore, but that's not because the council changed their minds. It's because she broke the law and the didn't punish her for it. this is a great example of how things keep trying to move forward, but the council isn't doing anything to stay up with it. "they are selfish and violent[...] but that never changes." yes!! this!! you put it so well! the council is still the same old council that we saw in book one, concerned with their own interests and their own views, just trying to mitigate the damage Sophie and her friends are capable of doing to their system. Note: the fact that a handful of teenagers who haven't even graduated can do this much damage might be telling of the structural integrity of their system. Bronte and Terik did a little flip, and Alina replaced the Now Crispy Kenric, but aside from that nothing has changed.

I will say, I personally don't want it to be clear who the good guys and bad guys are. (not saying that's what you're asking for! just piggybacking off your comment on the confusion). I'm glad that the characters make me think and I'm grateful there isn't just the "we're good and they're bad" element you see in other stories. not that that's bad, i just think realistically they'd be more complex and their simplicity grows repetitive after a while. But like I said, at times it feels like there's too much going on for there to be a clear message, which in and of itself could be the message. i could be seeing something where there's nothing, though. I think part of it might be Shannon trying to take on all these complex narratives and perspectives with a limited perspective (as in she only has Sophie to tell the story through), while also needing to make it enjoyable and palletable to a young audience.

and I agree with you! I think it's a lot of the potential we see not being used that makes us so infuriated (or me at least). Because there are some stories yo uread where you're like "ah. it's just one of those stories. cool." and you move past it. Because you know it's going to have a set perspective and you know it's going to accomplish what it wants, but Keeper seems to have so many possibilities and Shannon's getting stuck in this rut of good and bad after so long. maybe we'll get out of it in the next book with sophie thinking the Black Swan was in the wrong, but I also wouldn't be surprised if that Didn't Happen.

it's just like what i was saying about Ro! There's all these opportunities for these characters and this world to be really explored and fleshed out and complex, but we've gotten stuck in this romance drama and loosing fights again and again with little progress. All their actions are undoing the Neverseen's actions and counting it a victory because no one is dead. I just think there could be so much more that we're not getting because the story tried to go too broad when it wasn't ready for it.

this response got very long but in essence: I agree with your assessment of the story. is frustrating to see so many of the details and paths we'd like to see explored that often aren't in fiction just pass us by.

there is a special place for keeper in my heart and I will always appreciate it for that, but I also mourn what it could've been.

(also: you are not too angry! you have genuine thoughts about this series and they deserve to be heard! we are allowed to have complaints, even about the things we like. we don't have to appreciate every single aspect and we're allowed to be mad at the things we don't like.)

[kiranogareru]

VIOLENT BEAUTY OF LOVE

Warning: Mention of blood, death, Hanahaki disease and probably cursing, because I curse a lot, may give you the feels

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

A/n: Tried 3rd person view for this, feedback is welcome! Also, I don't know where I'm going with this, so let's take this journey together😅

Katsuki jolted up in his bed, eyes wide and holding a wild look of horror in them!

His throat feeling like it was being ripped apart from the inside, as the burning sensation of brutal scratches from within began to restrict his airflow!

'No, not again..' he thought in realization as he started coughing

He choked and gasped, desperately trying to force some air into his aching lungs! His eyes welling up and unintentionally staining his cheeks with tears

The feeling was unbearable, the agony making him subconsciously reach for his neck with both hands, in a futile attempt to somehow soothe the pain, but alas..there was nothing that could be done

Katsuki kept his condition a secret, not wanting anyone to think he's weak. He's been dealing with this for months all on his own, fighting it day in and day out and the worst part is he doesn't even know what's wrong with him!

At first it wasn't as bad, so Katsuki brushed it off as a stupid cold, but the symptoms kept worsening and no medication seemed to work

As the all-too-familiar metallic taste rose to his mouth, Katsuki knew exactly what would happen

He pushes himself up and off the bed, planning to run to the bathroom, using the last of his strength, but as soon as he stands, his legs give out and he drops to the cold, hard floor of his dorm, knees scraping upon Impact!

Katsuki is now supporting his weight with one arm and gripping at the collar of his shirt with the other,as his coughing fit continues, until his pain spills itself on the tiled surface beneath him

Y/N was so concerned about Bakugou, he had been missing several classes, he seemed disconnected and tired during most of his training sessions these past few weeks

Losing sleep and performing anything less than perfect on the battle field, isn't like him, in fact it is so uncommon that it became an instant tell that something was wrong with the normally, fierce blonde!

Though the weirdest thing ought to be the unusual aura that radiated off of him. He was mostly calm and very quiet!

Y/N is one of the few people that Bakugou has allowed into his life, he trusts her! They're personalities are very similar and that provides Katsuki with a sense of comfort and understanding!

This lead the duo to become close friends, but without realizing friendship turned to love...the one-sided kind to be exact

Y/N had just woken up to multiple messages from Eijirou, saying how Bakugou sounds sick again

Kiri: Do you mind checking on him? If any of us go he'll feel like we're looking down on him for being sick

Fuck, Eijirou was right, Katsuki would mistake the Bakusquad's concern for pity

Y/N found herself at Katsuki's door, worried at the sounds coming from the other side

She was unsure whether she should knock or simply enter and help him, but his shaky breaths and quiet sobs convinced her to do the latter!

She cracks the door open and pushes it gently, slipping into the room

What she's met with, leaves her in shock, her mind unable to form words at the sight in front of her and her gorgeous orbs prickled with building tears!

Right there on the floor, was a barely conscious Katsuki, lying in a pool of flowers, petals and what she could only assume was his own blood!

Never before had she witnessed a thing so mesmerizing, yet so damn cruel! She didn't even know such a combination could be achieved!

It made her angry that this...this violent beauty of love was possible!

Why did such tragedy, such pain have to befall the boy she loves?

Y/N kneels next to Katsuki and cradles his exhausted form, observing her dear friend closely. His vermillion eyes glassy and puffy, tear-streaked cheeks, blood and petals smeared on his lips and chin!

The saddened, soft expression she was wearing, while gently caressing his cheek, made him wish he could dissapear! As much as he loves being in her warm embrace, he despises the fact that she is there!

Bakugou never wanted her to see him like this, so vulnerable and beaten down, so- so fucking weak! He'd rather her think of him as anything, but weak!

He hated that out of all people, she had to be the one to walk in and catch him at his lowest!

His handsome face, was tainted with pain and she fucking hated that! It made her sick to her stomach, to see someone so strong, look so distraught!

Y/N carefully rested Katsuki's head on her lap, brushing some stray, spiky locks of ash blonde hair, out of his face

She couldn't help but wonder how long he's been suffering for and who could possibly be the cause of the heartbreking disease, the one of unreturned feelings, better known as Hanahaki!

How could someone that managed to win Katsuki Bakugou's heart, throw away their chance and deny his love? It just didn't make sense to her!

Some sort of awkward tension was thick in the atmosphere of the room, as silence spread between them, but she couldn't quite pinpoint why..

"Why didn't you say anything dumbass?" She asked, with a halfhearted smile on her lips, using his nickname for her, in an attempt to lighten the mood

"I can handle it on my own, I don't need these extras thinking they can surpass me just because I'm sick" He grumbled, his voice coming out strained

"You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that?" Her question was clearly rhetorical, since both of them knew the answer

"So...who is it?" She finally questioned, voicing the thought that was stuck in her head

Katsuki gave her a strange look, one that implied he had no idea what the Hell she was talking about!

"Huh?" Was all that left his lips

"Who are you in love with?" She hesitantly asked

Bakugou quickly sat up, his back now facing her, as he suddenly started coughing once again, his breaths shallow and sharp!

She couldn't bare the scene that was unfolding in front of her very eyes! His body was a trembling mess, while he struggled to breath, flowers coated by his blood spattering from his mouth and hitting the floor, like some type of poetic murder scene!

She desperately wanted to help him, but didn't know how, or what she could possibly do!

As Katsuki started to calm down, Y/N went to get some wipes from his drawer

Both teens sat down, this time on Katsuki's bed. She cupped his face and begun to clean him up

"Whoever the fuck said I'm in love? And what does that even have to do with anything?" His voice was hoarse and his tone cold as he spoke

His words took her by surprise, since she was so shook up that she forgot she had even asked him something!

'Did he not know?' Y/N thought to herself

"I figured- because of..the flowers?" She stuttered out, her statement sounding more like a question if anything

"What about those damn flowers?" He spat in confusion, with a scowl on his face

"Katsuki..." She softly spoke, taking a hand of his in her own, her other resting on his cheek "do you not know why you're sick?"

He felt his chest tighten at the contact, but kept an unfazed facade, as he proceeded to lock eyes with her

"Don't look at me like that!" He suddenly snapped

"Like what?" She asked, perplexed as to what she did wrong

"I can see the fucking pity in your eyes!" He growled "It's just an illness! It's not like I'm fucking dying Y/N!" He angrily yanked her hand off of him and looked away

"Katsu you- you are dying..." Her voice cracked and trailed off, eyes brimming with tears, that were threatening to spill

"You have Hanahaki. Look around you, the plant in your lungs has grown so much, that you're coughing up fully grown-" Her words caught in her throat, as she pointed to the blossoms, picking one up to examine it closer, only to discover that these were her favourite flowers, even the colour was right!

"Hanahaki?" Bakugou looked heartbroken "I thought it wasn't real"

He'd heard stories about it ever since he was little, but never knew anyone who had actually experienced it! But apparently life has a funny way of teaching you things

It all made sense to him now! He already knew he was starting to fall for her, but now he also knew how Y/N felt and this only gave him two options!

He could either, suffer a little more as a lovesick puppy, until he dies, or get a surgery that will remove the problem from it's literal roots and risk losing all memory of the girl he loves and possibly the ability to love again!

As he was deep in thought, Y/N turned to him, flower in hand and with tears streaming from her eyes to match her broken smile

"It's not me..it can't be me" She mumbled out, gaze on the floor as she couldn't bring herself to face him

"Y/N it is you! I'm in love with you!" He confessed, his head resting against hers, those lively ruby orbs of his staring at the flower in her palm, while his hands cupped hers

"Please don't say that.." She sniffled, reaching into her pocket with her free hand and pulling something out "I don't want to be the one who did this to you"

She opened her fist, showing him petals of a flower he didn't recognize "I don't want to be the one who hurt you!"

'How could I have been so dense, so oblivious? Of course she loves someone else' Katsuki felt his heart shatter like a mirror, the pain returning, as he let out a sigh and pulled her into a tight embrace

He tried his hardest not to break down in tears, not to let the flowers suffocate him and allow this moment to be his last memory! Just her in his arms!

"Don't cry Y/N, I'll be alright! This is not your fault! I'll get the surgery and I'll be alright!" He rubbed the small of her back to soothe her

"But what if you forget about me? I don't want to lose you!" She cried

"I would never forget about you!" He told her sternly

"Do you promise?" She asked, like a line from some cheesy love story

"I promise, but only if you go into surgery too! I don't want you to end up in pain" He admitted

"Okay, I'll do it" Even though Bakugou tried to reassure her, she feels guilty and is willing to do this if it means he will be happy

As the days passed and the time for the surgery came around the teens went their separate ways, since their appointments were registered in different hospitals, or at least that's what Bakugou told Y/N

In reality he had simply asked principle Nezu if he could visit his parents that day for personal reasons and stayed with them

Mitsuki gave her son a whole lecture, but after he got fed up, he decided to tell her and Masaru the truth...or part of it anyway

Meanwhile Y/N was in another part of Musutafu, lying on an operating table

Two days later they were back to UA, trying to catch up on assignments. Y/N had no recollection of her prior love interest and Bakugou had no intention of telling her that he never went to the hospital!

"Yaho Katsuuu" She greeted, as he entered the kitchen. It was their turn to clean it today

"Huh?" He tilted his head to the side "Which extra are you again?" He asked playfully

Her shocked expression made him laugh "That's not funny!" She pouted "You scared me!" She said, before smacking him on the head

"It was funny to me dumbass" He said as he proceeded to wipe the table

Y/N was happy that everything seemed to have gone back to normal, she loved seeing him smile

But little did she know...

By the end of that same month, Bakugou was found dead in his dorm, which resembled a cursed garden of blood-soaked flowers! Some stems and thorns were coming out of his mouth, while others had pierced through his lifeless chest! The scene was gut wrenching!

Aizawa was the one who found him, after Y/N pointed out that he had never followed the rest of the class out of the dorms

The dorms were immediately sealed, so none of the students could see the traumatizing sight!

However Y/N had a feeling that she knew what had happened to the fiery hero-in-training and she couldn't help but blame herself for it

[fiveisnumber1]

Hi! I love your writing and uhm I recently encountered a fic that looks a lot like yours? Maybe I'm just imagining things tho!! because I read the first chp of timeless so long ago. It's called "like a ghost", I'm sure you can find it on Tumblr, I think you should check it out yourself,, just wanted to let you know. Have a great day!

Yeah, I just went and read it and it is scarily similar which is quite concerning because I’ve put a lot of time and effort into crafting my story. I’m going to be honest, I’m shaking, my heart is racing, and I’m about to cry. This is my story beat for beat. Anyone who has read it knows this. I’ve worked really hard on timeless, I started writing this back in august, this is my happy labor of love and for this to happen...I’m just really distraught. For any of my followers here are just some plot points that are way too on the nose in my opinion (and these are direct quotes from “their” story):

“As time goes and the baby grows up, they start to notice something was odd. And then they discovered the baby's powers. Sometimes it unintentionally became invisible and they had a hard time finding it, sometimes it went through a wall, and sometimes an object went through it like there wasn't anything. They started to help their kid control it's powers, but it wasn't a simple task since they were just ordinary people.“

“A dark-haired boy was sitting in his room thoughtlessly looking from his window”

“Reginald held out his hand and you accepted it not saying anything."Tell me," he started, "what are your abilities?"You hastened but then you gave him an answer."I can become invisible, or go through walls and I can let things go through me."

“Five was walking down the hallway muttering to himself. "Idiot Klaus, why he has to poke his nose everywhere, now I-" he didn't finish because he bumped into something and fell on the floor. As you fell you lost focus and became visible again. At first, Five was confused about how it was possible to bump into something invisible, but then he noticed you lying on the floor.”

“You were regularly visiting the academy, learning how to control your powers and improve them. The only time when somebody knew about your presence was that bump accident with Five, but since then everything went well.”

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "I wanted to see you before you leave. Can we meet at Griddy's Doughnuts at 7 pm? If you know where it is," he asked shyly.”

"One plain, glazed for me," said Five. The waitress wrote the order to her notepad and left.”

“Since then you were seeing Five at Griddy's every day. The waitresses liked you and they often gave you some doughnuts for free. You talked about everything that came to your mind and you enjoyed each other's company. Five was enjoying the time you spent together. It was great having a friend that wasn't his sibling. It was so different and he liked it. But he wanted to spend more time with you and he came up with an idea.”

“It was almost seven o'clock and you were pulling the curtains when suddenly a voice came from the other end of the room."Good evening.""Jesus Christ!" you exclaimed scared. You turned around and saw Five leaning against your closet with a smirk on his face."Nah, just me," he replied nonchalantly."How did you get there?" you asked confused."I've got my ways."And then a new era of hangouts started. You were visiting each other's rooms and you spent even more time together than before”

"Yes I... I can make myself invisible, and go through walls or doors and things like that. I can also let objects go through me." you looked at Five, scared of how he would react.”

"When were you born?" "What?" you blurted. "When were you born?" he repeated his question. "Uh... October 1st, 1989 exactly at noon, why?" You were genuinely confused about why he wanted to know your birthday when he just discovered you had some superpowers. "Yeah that makes sense," he nodded muttered more to himself. "What are you talking about, Five?""I was born on the same day, the same year, and the same hour as you! And all my siblings too, and we have superpowers like you but different," he finally explained.

"Really? And I was scared that you'll freak out if I'll tell you about my abilities," you smiled. "What you can do?" you were curious. "Look," he said simply and then disappeared in a flash of blue light. You were looking at the place he disappeared in awe. Then he alerted you to his presence.”

“This was great, now you could be fully open to him and didn't have to hide your talents.”

It was too long for a direct quote but the reader plays a prank on Five’s siblings kind of in the same vein as how the reader in my story popped her head through Five’s chest to scare them

"Since all of my children most likely know about you, you will start training with them. At least it will be a new challenge for them. Training with an invisible opponent can advance their reflexes."

“Why didn't you tell us about her Five?" asked Allison. Five hastened. He didn't exactly know, he hadn't thought about it much. "I don't know," he said finally with a shrug. "Maybe because he loves her," exclaimed Klaus mockingly. "Shut your mouth," snapped Five. He suddenly felt hot and he didn't know what was that supposed to mean. Klaus laughed at his reaction.”

“After that, you were spending more time at the academy. You finally had the opportunity to meet Five's 'stupid siblings' as he liked to refer to them. You found out why Five liked Vanya and Ben the most. They were much calmer than Diego, Luther, and Allison, but you still liked them all. You met Grace, their robotic mom, and Pogo a chimpanzee who can speak to your amazement. You enjoyed being here because you could be yourself. You didn't have to hide your powers. You laughed with Klaus, spent time in the library with Five, listened to Vanya play the violin. You had deep talks with Ben, learned some tricks with knives with Diego, danced with Allison, or helped Luther with his workout. But your friendship with Five was the strongest. But time flies when you're having fun.”

“You were near the gates when Five rushed from the house, looking positively furious. You wanted to know what pissed him off so you ran after him because he was really fast in his fury. When you caught up with him you took him by the shoulder, so he can acknowledge your presence.”

"Not ready my ass..." muttered Five angrily. "Five!" you shouted at him, trying to get his attention. But he hasn't heard you. And there was another flash like before. Now it was snowing? You groaned and tried to get Five's attention once again.”

"Not now (y/n)!" He yanked his hand from your grip and disappeared in the same flash as the previous ones. "Ugh, screw you then,"

"Are you lost?" asked the woman with a worried look on her face. "No," you let out a nervous chuckle, "I live in here. With my aunt and uncle, are they in there?" You stood on your tiptoes so you can peek into the house. The woman looked even more concerned now. "Do you mean Mr. and Mrs. Harper? They moved out twelve years ago."

“You froze in shock. "What?" you blurted out in confusion. How much time passed? "What year is it?" "It's 2016..." she said.”

“You just simply couldn't be in 2016, it was 2002 minutes ago!”

“You were standing in the entrance hall for a few minutes, waiting for you to wake up from this horrible dream, but nothing happened. Any second now... "(y/n)?" you heard a shocked voice. You looked to the left and saw Grace, standing there with a duster, shocked expression on her face. "You're back," she said and put down the duster. She came to you and cupped your face in her hands. You gave up on the idea of you dreaming. This felt so real, it couldn't be just a fantasy. "Is somebody else here?" you asked. "Diego, Ben, Vanya, anybody?" "Oh," Grace sighed. "No, they all left some years ago. And Ben..." she looked sadly at you and you understood what she meant. You started shaking and you felt like there was some sort of pressure on your chest.”

“Nothing much changed, but then you looked at the fireplace and you saw a painting there. You looked up and froze once again. It was a painting of Five. You were looking up at it and then a wave of rage hit you.“

“His hand was turned palm up and he could see a tattoo on his forearm. It was the one they all got tattooed one day. The symbol of the umbrella academy. They really were his family. He felt a lump rising in his throat. He decided to go get his cart, but something caught his eye. He quickly rushed to it and he couldn't believe what he saw. It was you. You were much younger than the others. You looked like a teenager, just a few years older than he was. Your eyes were half-open, without a spark of life.”

“It was devastating seeing all of you dead. But the sight of your dead body was the worst for him. He carefully put your head down and stood up, not looking away from you. He had to find a way out. He had to prevent this from happening.”

“Since you don't have anywhere else to go, you can live there, but you will remain training and you will have a strict schedule, do you understand?"You snorted and said, "I won't be part of your silly academy.""I'm fully aware of that," he didn't look away from his papers, "Grace prepared a room for you."

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

When We Were Young (part IX)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here ; Read part III here ;

Read part IV here ; Read part V here ; Read part VI here ;

Read part VII here ; Read part VIII here

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack, *moments of assault*

**This chapter contains mentions of assault. Please be aware if this is trigging for you!

B/N: I’m getting a little lost in my own timeline, so apologies for any inaccuracies... All mistakes I claim as my own.

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

Cas stood abruptly as Dean came down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He was exhausted, but it wasn’t in him to even think about sleeping when a monster was still very much on the loose. Sam remained seated on the couch, his head resting in his hands, looking every bit as exhausted and distraught as Dean felt. From the living room, Dean could see Bobby sitting at his desk nursing a glass of amber liquid, sure to be whiskey of some kind. Dean wanted to stay level headed for the moment, but would no doubt fall asleep with a bottle of his own later. 

“Dean,” Cas nodded toward him, offering him his seat on the couch next to his brother, but Dean waved him off, choosing to stand, crossing his arms over his chest. Cas nodded curtly recognizing that Dean was waiting for him to tell the story. 

“While we were speaking, Dean, I heard a woman’s voice asking God to save her from her pain. As you know, I have never spoken with Y/N and I do not know her, but I felt that she was the woman you, Sam, and Bobby were looking for. And she was in profound pain. So I left without word. I do apologize for that, Dean.” Cas gave Dean his signature sorrowful eyes, head tilt thrown in, and Dean waved him off again, letting him know it was fine and that he should continue. Cas didn’t break eye contact with Dean, and though it unnerved him, he let the man continue to stare while he told the story. 

“When I arrived, I was in some sort of underground dungeon in western South Dakota. The building above was abandoned, but the dungeon was very much operational. I appeared directly in front of the woman who had prayed for me, who I realized had to be Y/N. I introduced myself as Castiel, angel of the Lord, and healed her---” 

Dean held up a hand to stop him abruptly, and Cas shut his mouth instantly. “What kind of wounds did she have, Cas?” Sam looked up at his brother questioningly, and Dean merely shook his head telling him silently to ‘leave it.’ Cas looked uncomfortable with the question, but answered anyway, knowing evading Dean was impossible, when he wanted answers. 

“She was chained up by the wrists, so I healed the burns and scrapes from the shackles. It appeared that she spent a few hours on her knees, so I healed the scrapes and swelling there...” Cas trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t have to continue, and glancing at the older Winchester. Though Dean looked distraught, he motioned for Cas to keep talking. Cas took in a huge breath of air before continuing. 

“She had a few internal injuries that seemed to have come from rough intercourse and I healed those wounds as well.” 

Sam stood to his feet, pacing around the living room with an angry look on his face. When Dean glanced into the office, he saw that Bobby was gone, having walked away when Cas finished his retelling. Sam continued to pace back and forth looking like he wanted to punch someone or something, and Cas looked ashamed and guilty for his side of the situation. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, silently thanking him, and Cas nodded once in response. 

“Do you know where the monster went, Cas?” Sam asked finally, turning to face the two men, his eyebrows creased together in thought. Cas merely shook his head before speaking. 

“I wrapped Y/N in my coat and came instantly back here. I apologize, I should have investigated more, but it didn’t seem like any creature or human was present at the scene when I appeared.” Sam nodded, continuing to pace and Dean clapped Cas on the back again with a quick, “it’s not your fault.” Cas nodded again, when he suddenly became serious, a far-off look in his eye. 

“Y/N is waking up, Dean. I can feel her anxiety.” Dean nodded, leaving the two men and Bobby, wherever he was, to deal with the next steps, as he bounded up the stairs toward where Y/N was. 

---------

When you woke, you realized you recognized the room, but you still felt fear and adrenaline course through your veins, realizing the last thing you remember was being shackled to the ceiling in Greg’s dungeon. You didn’t sit up, but began to sob remembering the day you just had, which felt like a lifetime ago. Though you didn’t feel any pain, the memories of the dungeon were etched permanently into your memory, and you gasped shooting into a sitting position when you remembered what Greg had done to you... What he made you think Dean did to you. Dean. 

As if you had actually called out for him, Dean appeared in the doorway, and you shrunk back some into the bed, your mind screaming at you to run. Dean seemed a bit shocked to see you sitting up in bed, and came toward you slowly. 

“Stop.” You said lowly, but Dean didn’t hear you, taking a few more steps toward you. 

“Stop!” You repeated loudly, hearing heavy footsteps bounding up the stairs in response to your yells. 

“Dean,” You repeated exasperated, needing to find some way to tell that it was really him, despite your body telling you to run far away from him. Sam, Cas, and Bobby appeared at the door, and you relaxed. 

“Can I talk to Sam? Alone.” You spit out, seeing the light go out behind Dean’s eyes. You felt horrible, but he would need to understand, and would fully understand soon, you just needed to talk to someone. Though Castiel would be a good candidate being that he found you, you were leery of the angel as well, especially now as he stared at you with those bright blue eyes. Dean nodded, turning on his heel and ushering the angel and whiskey drunk Bobby away from the door. 

Sam came fully into the room and closed the door behind him, before approaching the bed. Tears began to well in your eyes as you thought about telling Sam the truth of what happened to you, and you launched yourself into his arms, pulling yourself into his lap so you could bury your head into the crook of his shoulder and neck, breathing in the scent of home. Sam wrapped his arms tight around you and held you close to him, finally breathing after hours of worrying. 

In Sam’s firm hold, you let yourself fall apart. “What am I going to do, Sam?” You wailed, sobbing harder thinking about the look on Dean’s face when you essentially kicked him out of the room. You had to find a way to know that he was the real Dean. It should be him comforting you right now, you thought to yourself.

“Tell me what happened, Y/N.” Though it wasn’t a question, Sam’s voice was gentle and even. “Tell me what happened, and I’ll help.” 

You pulled away from him a bit, looking into dark blue eyes, gathering your strength from the younger hunter, who had been through so much in his life as well. 

“He posed as Dean, Sam... He took my worst fears and heightened them to something I could never even imagine.” Sam didn’t look shocked at your confession, but nodded his head, understanding where your confusion was coming from. 

You hiccuped a little controlling your tears for the moment. “Dean would never hurt me.” You stated more to yourself than anything, but you knew mantras and words would never ease the panic you felt deep in your veins when you saw Dean standing in the doorway. 

Sam nodded again understanding, digging in his front pocket. You looked at him questioningly before he spoke. 

“None of us would ever hurt you, Y/N. I know you know this in your soul, but I recognize not being able to convince your mind that Dean isn’t the shifter with what you’ve been through.” He looked at you seriously, and though you saw emotion, none of it was pity, and you thanked him silently with your eyes.

“You don’t have to take only my word, I can show you both your dad, my dad, and Bobby’s journals that confirm, but silver makes a shifters skin burn, much like holy water on a demon.” You looked deep into Sam’s eyes, knowing he would never lie to you, but wanting the confirmation anyway. Seeing that he had your attention, he held up a simple silver ring, looking away guiltily before continuing. 

“When we lost you, I was afraid something like this would happen. That the shifter would pose as someone close to you to hurt you, so I had Bobby find me a silver ring. Wear this, and if you are ever unsure if one of us is a shifter you can simply grab our arms and wait for the sizzle.” He smiled softy when you grabbed the ring and slipped it onto your right hand ring finger, feeling a weight lift off your body a bit, knowing you were that much safer with this on your body. 

“Thank you, Sam.” You responded simply, wrapping one arm around his neck, and the other grabbing his wrist lightly, testing the touch of the silver against his skin. He chuckled under your hold, and you both watched his arm for any sort of reaction, even though you knew there wouldn’t be. You looked satisfied, so he lifted you lightly off of his lap and stood, gesturing toward the door.

“Do you want to test the ring more?” You glanced down at the simple silver circle and nodded, wanting more than anything to be in Dean Winchester’s arms. The real Dean Winchester.

—————

When Sam told Dean that Y/N wanted to see him, he looked skeptical, staring silently at his brother and asking him ‘why now?’ Sam simply pointed toward the stairs and told his brother to “go,” indicating that he would find out soon enough. 

Dean finished the whiskey in his glass in one large gulp, gaining a bit of courage to face the woman who he wanted nothing more than to hold, but had kicked him out moments before. 

Dean looked anxious as he stood in the door, waiting for you to tell him what his next move should be, and you motioned for him to come sit on the bed with you. He hesitated, but stepped forward slowly, like he had before, perching on the very end of the bed, as far away from you as he could get, and still be on the bed. You didn’t blame his hesitation, you had some of your own, as you took in what you needed to be the real Dean Winchester in this moment. Crawling forward hesitantly to sit up on your knees, you pushed Dean’s shoulder so he was facing you, one leg moving up on the bed, and wrapped an arm around his neck, the other gripping lightly at his bare wrist so the ring was touching it, like you had done to Sam. Dean kept his hands to himself for the moment watching you, and you waited for any sign of the sizzle of skin, holding your breath.

When none came you threw yourself at Dean, straddling his lap and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. Dean was frozen for a few seconds, until he let out a breath of air, and wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could mirroring your position and planting a few chaste kisses against your pulse point. You groaned quietly, feeling heat rush through your body and grabbed fistfuls of Dean’s shirt, grounding yourself in the moment. This was Dean, he passed the test, it’s really him. You’re safe.

Dean felt your body begin to shake, and he pulled away, taking your face in his, and you turned and kissed his palm, giving him a small smile, which he returned, eyes filled with tears, grateful that you were in front of him. You leaned forward and kissed his lips, ignoring the way your body lurched back when he reacted and deepened the kiss, running his tongue along your bottom lip. You wanted more than anything for him to help you forget, but you couldn’t take this any further until he understood what had happened. Again. You didn’t have the security of Dean’s room at the bunker, or the darkness to shield you from what you were about to tell the man you loved, but you weren’t worried about the way he would view you. Rather you were scared of how much Dean would beat himself up over what you were about to say. 

You pulled back lightly, licking your lips and savoring the flavor of sweet whiskey and Dean on your mouth. Dean was staring at you intently, almost like he wasn’t believing you were actually here, and you rubbed at his shoulders in response, to remind him that you were real. And you were safe. 

“Dean,” you started, staring into his forest green eyes. “I have to tell you what happened...” You were suddenly hesitant, not knowing how to relive the worst moment of your life. Dean squeezed gently at your hips, letting you know he was there for you, but he spoke up as well. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, baby. Cas told--” 

“I have to tell you my side of the story, Dean. Castiel wasn’t there for it.” You cut him off, and he nodded looking guilty for saying anything. You picked at a loose thread on Dean’s flannel while you found the right words. 

“I had just been sitting on the Impala when he grabbed me, and I woke up in some kind of damp room, shackled to the ceiling.” You had finally found your courage to get it all out and the words were suddenly pouring from your lips, Dean hanging on to every one. 

“He only took off my clothes the first time he visited. But when he came back the second, I knew he was going to take what he wanted. I resisted and he told me that he wanted me to enjoy it as well. And with that he turned into you...” You trailed off, getting emotional now, wrapped up in the moment you looked into the hunter’s green eyes, thinking you were finally being saved. 

“What!” Dean yelled, making you jump. He didn’t move to get up, but you could feel the anger radiating off of him, and he worked hard to contain himself as he waited for you to tell the rest of the story. But you simply placed your head back into the crook of his neck, hoping he could fill in the blanks himself this time. You laid soft kisses along his collarbone, hoping to release the tension in his shoulders, but he was long gone, surely imagining nothing but sinking a knife into Greg. 

You were getting tired as you clung onto Dean, exhausted from the day, and from retelling your story. Your emotions felt out of control, and you wanted nothing more than a deep, dreamless sleep. One that only came from being held by Dean. 

He shifted lightly when he felt you yawn against his neck, and moved to lay you back on the bed, when you grabbed onto his arm. 

“Stay with me.” You stated, peering up at Dean. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly and he nodded, moving to the other side of the bed, and stripped down to his simple black shirt and boxer briefs. He sprawled out on his back, and reached for you, pulling you to lay your head against his chest, where you could hear the comforting thump thump thump of his heart. You were asleep in minutes. 

Dean, however, laid awake, plotting the long, slow torture of the thing that hurt you. 

When We Were Young Tag List: @vicmc624 @woundedxsmile @akshi8278 @supernatural3002

Read Part X here!

[lady-star-strings]

DNF/Georgebur PotO & LND AU

Okay, to begin with, thank you so so much for giving me the chance to blab about this @dtvibez because I’ve always wanted to work with this AU, but I’ve just never had the characters to do it with and my musical nerd heart is thriving right now. Alright, anywhodilydo, geek-out over, let’s get into it - just a warning kiddos, this is gonna be a long one so strap in and hold on...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roles

To start off, let’s address the roles here for how I believe these plots would fit best with the characters involved - it’s purely up to individual interpretation, but these are my thoughts as an in-depth lover of these musicals.

Obviously, our dear George is the leading lady Christine Daae in this story, that was pretty much a given - let’s just be honest here guys, he’s the simp-bait through and through and if that wasn’t Christine, I don’t know what was. Meg - Christine’s friend - and her mother Madame Giry I’m going to combine and make Fundy for reasons I shall disclose later in this post, and Sapnap will have a role to discuss later down the line too, just lemme get there. Now as for the love interests, I can easily say that Eric/The Phantom is Dream and Raoul is Wilbur in this situation. Some of you might be questioning why it wouldn’t be switched because Raoul was her childhood friend and Eric was a gifted musician, but I have answers for you ahead on that, don’t you worry~ ;)

Phantom of the Opera Arc

After studying under Dream - or the Nightmare of the Opera as people prefer to call him - for years to be the star singer he was always destined to be, George is finally granted the chance to do so when some strings are pulled behind the scenes to give him a leading role in an opera. There isn’t anything George wouldn’t do for his Angel of Music after giving him such a chance at success, and Dream is practically preening with pride over how astounding his Georgie has turned out to be. Before Dream can whisk George away in triumph, however, his childhood friend Wilbur shows up out of the blue to shower him in praise and remind him of the puppy love they shared as children before George moved to the opera house. George is smitten with nostalgia, to say the least - it’s nice to put a face to the affection for once.

Needless to say, Dream is hardly pleased with this turn of events and actively tries to keep George not only away from Wilbur, but also to himself because George is quite literally all he has in the world - not even his music can compare to how much George means to him. Of course, the way he goes about this is hardly morally right and only serves to drive George further and further away from him and into Wilbur’s arms as a safe haven from all of the horrors. In the end, though, even after so much heartbreak and all the terrible things Dream’s done to keep him hostage as his muse and love, George finds it in his heart to forgive him for being how the world made him to be and genuinely offers to give up his freedom if it means he won’t be alone in that darkness anymore and Wilbur won’t die.

As expected, Dream realizes he really can’t do that George when it comes down to it - he simply loves him too much to force him to stay if it means he’d wind up hating him for it in the end. He’d rather let him be free and live the life he’s been dreaming of with Wilbur than have him stay and live the rest of his life resenting him. Even so, George is surprisingly hesitant to leave and can only offer to return the wedding ring Dream gifted him as a final goodbye and a silent show of his remaining love for him before he let’s him go in return and goes off with Wilbur. Following that night, Dream disappears from the opera house altogether, never to be heard from again...

Love Never Dies Arc - *SPOILERS*

...Or so the story goes in Paris 10 years ago. Little did anyone know, Fundy actually helped Dream steal away from the opera house when the mobs came searching for him and was unyieldingly by his side as they made their way to America for a fresh start. Once there, Dream - with a little seedy behind-the-scenes help from Fundy - founded a successful side show on Coney Island where he and others like him such as Sapnap and Punz - Miss Fleck and Dr. Gangle - are able to live freely and are treated with respect for their unique traits. Fundy has actually taken to training under Dream to be a successful singer in his own right with a well-known show in the attraction, his only goal to gain Dream’s favor and hopefully prove he’s able to replace George in his life. Dream unsurprisingly has no interest in anything of the sort and still actively mourns the loss of his muse - not even his music brings him joy anymore because it only reminds him of what could’ve been, and Fundy will never be his Georgie despite how much he insists otherwise.

But Dream is a clever thing, and he winds up securing a contract for George - who is now married to Wilbur and is raising a 10-year-old son with him - to come perform at the side show for one last performance. George takes the contract with little to no thought as to the odd pseudonym on the paperwork because Wilbur has lost himself to gambling and alcohol over the years, and they’re desperate for money to survive. At first, George is irate and somewhat heartbroken to learn that Dream’s been alive after all these years, especially after how their lives have turned out following the one night of passion they shared before he disappeared. He admits he still loved Dream when he left and would’ve gone with him, but because he thought they couldn’t be happy and left without him, that ship has long since sailed. They both wish things could have been different, but also accept that what happened happened and all they can do now is move forward with the choices they’ve made.

Much to everyone’s immense shock, though, George’s son is actually Dream’s and not Wilbur’s - a fact which Dream deduces on his own after connecting the dots between his age and musical prowess. Unfortunately, the child is terrified of Dream’s true face just as George once was and after getting the truth confirmed about the child’s real parentage, he begs for him to never know. George ultimately blames himself for what’s happened, and although he can’t take back not telling Dream of their child and the fear said child feels toward him, he swears to perform for him one last time to make up for it before they return to Paris to avoid hurting him further. Meanwhile, Dream vows everything he’s worth in the world to be the child’s once he’s gone even if he can’t be his father, and Fundy isn’t happy to hear that in the slightest because he will have nothing after all the sacrifice he’s made for Dream. All of the sleazy deals and late nights in his dressing room plying people for Dream’s success, and he will get nothing - his mind is just too fragile to face that reality at this point without doing something rash.

Naturally, Wilbur has no clue about any of this at first and makes a drunken deal with Dream regarding George - if George sings for him, he and the child will stay with Dream and Wilbur will leave. If George doesn’t sing, he and the child will leave with Wilbur with all of their debts wiped away as not to burden their family further with his problems. Wilbur then proceeds to try his best to convince George to stay with him by using nostalgia yet again since he now knows who the child belongs to as well, but in the end, George realizes that although he may have loved Wilbur at one time, his love for Dream transcends all that and has never once wavered despite everything they’ve been through. Throughout everything, Dream has always been there waiting for him and wants nothing more than for George and their child to have the life they deserve - Wilbur lost all of that a long time ago. George makes his choice, and Wilbur leaves as promised with the acceptance that he while no longer makes George happy, Dream does and he’ll take care of him - but the child, however, leaves with a distraught Fundy seeking to “right his problems.”

They manage to catch up to Fundy in time to avoid disaster, but not completely as he still views George as the reason he could never be happy with Dream and winds up fatally shooting him in the midst of a mental breakdown. Dream can do nothing but hold George - the man he loved and was finally loved by in return  - as it’s revealed to the child who his real father is, only for him to flee the scene in horror of the truth. For once, Dream is at a loss for what to do because there isn’t any more time for them to have their happy ending and he hasn’t any idea what to do about their child without George. In his dying moments, George soothingly reminds him of one simple fact: Love never dies, and the best thing he can do is just live and give everything he can for both himself and the child now as all they have is each other. With a final kiss, George slips away and a sobbing Dream is left cradling his body when the child and Wilbur - who he ran to find to help George after he was shot - arrive on the scene. 

Dream isn’t cruel. He understands how Wilbur must feel in the same situation, so he allows him to mourn the loss of George in his own way with the child as he contemplates whether or not he can continue on. While he debates what to do with himself, the child slowly comes to him unafraid and willing to face the man he now knows to be his father in a new light. In his eyes, Dream can see George, and that’s more than enough for him to stay just a little longer in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry if that’s a lot to process and read through, but it was a lot to get out and I wanted to be crystal clear on things as not to confuse people. This is for the most part just hitting the main plot points of the musicals, however, tweaking and adjustments and further deep-dive analyses can be done now that I’ve gotten the main idea out of the way. I definitely don’t want to stick too strictly to it myself and want to tailor it more to the SMP events and characters, but I’ll save that for later since it’s already super late and I should be writing my fic instead.

Happy writing kiddos, thank you for letting me indulge myself with this concept and I hope you enjoyed it~ <3

[kkeidawrites]

Betrayed

Here’s Part 9!

A/N: Please read! The chapter you are about to read is a recount of how episodes 1-10 of season 3 went down but, in Esmé’s point of view. If you are uncomfortable reading this chapter, then feel free to leave the chapter. 

The feeling of being sucked into a different world rushed over both Alucard and Esmé. Her body was floating towards the blinding white light that was at the end of the tunnel she was in. She looked around her until her eyes landed on a particular memory where she and Alucard were making breakfast together. She remembered that, she still had the burn scar on her wrist when the pan she was using became real hot. 

More memories floated by her as she continued to float even the events of their travels up to the point where she was dropped off in her village and they had all parted. 

The memories faded behind her until she reached the white light which engulfed her entire body. The sound of silence surrounded Esmé, her eyes were closed tight when the light blinded her. Her eyes slowly opened and she found herself standing by a river. She looked down at her hands and noticed they were transparent, okay, this is new. Esmé has done this before but, for her to be see through was new to her. 

Whenever she would enter someone’s memories they would be right beside her and together they would go through the memory together but, it seems this time it wasn’t the case.

Alucard wasn’t beside her and she was in a memory without any information on what she was doing here. What was going on? Did she do the spell wrong?

The sound of the bushes shifting made Esmé turn her head to see a familiar face. Alucard walked towards Esmé with a basket in hand and Esmé could tell that he wasn’t angry. Esmé smiled and rushed to greet him.

“Adrian, there you are! I thought I had lost you-” she reached out to touch his should but her hand phased through it instead. Esmé jumped back in shock then she remembered where she was. 

Of course he couldn’t see her, this was a memory after all. Instead she followed him to the river and watched as he set the basket to the side, kneeling down on a few rocks and grabbed a swimming fish, using his knuckles to kill it. He grabbed a few more fish and then he stood up, smelling fresh air.

Esmé followed him back to the castle and watched as he cooked himself dinner and even talk to the two makeshift Sypha and Trevor dolls. 

The memory then slowly fades away and Esmé looks around in a bit of a panic. Was this the only memory he was going to allow her to see?

She was left in a dark abyss for a moment before another light engulfed her and Esmé put a hand over her eyes to block the glare and she found herself in another memory where two people were talking to him in the forest. 

Esmé frowned at this, people rarely ventured out this far into the forest, only to perhaps to get the next town but, the fact these two were able to find the castle and be bold enough to approach it puzzled Esmé.

Esmé listened to their story as slaves to the vampire Chō, one of the generals in Dracula’s Army, and asked him to teach them how to fight vampires.

Esmé could see the hesitance in Alucard and prayed that he would think rationally about his decision. While she was staying with him, she helped him try and be more open with the people in the area. Alucard needed to be more comfortable around humans again. He didn’t have to be best friends with them but, give them a chance to explain themselves and then if he sees them as threat then he handles them quickly.

She watches as her lover makes the final decision to teach the two strangers, whose names she learned were Sumi and Taka, and take them into his castle. Esmé moved to follow them but, once again the memory disappeared and she was left in a pit of darkness.

Small memories of the three of them played by her head and Esmé watched them with quick eyes, they were rushing past her that she didn’t have enough time to see what was happening in each one.

She saw one memory where the three of them were sparing and ended up playing instead. Another shows them reading about the history of vampires and some of the Belmont family’s journals of their tales against fighting night creatures and vampires.

“This could be it.” she muses as the white light took over her body once more.

Esmé opened her eyes and found herself in Alucard’s bedroom, she saw the dhampir lying in the bed tossing and turning and Esmé frowned.

Why did his memory place her here? Alucard looked distressed, she always had this feeling that sleeping in a bed was still foreign to him and Esmé had suggested that he should make himself a coffin where he could be more comfortable and be able to sleep peacefully. Alucard would always refuse, claiming that he should get used to sleeping in a bed instead of a coffin. He said it...made him feel more human.

Then the door to his bedroom opened, and Esmé turned to see both Taka and Sumi standing there. Esmé frowned in confusion and watched as they approached him and sat on his bedside.

Outside World~~~~~~~~

Trevor and Sypha had been sitting and waiting for an hour for their companions to come out of their comatose state. Esmé’s eyes were glowing a white color while Alucard’s were gold. Sypha prayed for their safety back to the real world or wherever they were and Trevor sighed heavily beside her just as anxious for them to come back.

“Trevor, what can we do? They have been in this state for a long time. Do you think they are...?” Trevor shook his head and watched Esmé‘s face closely as tears began roll down her cheeks.

“No, they aren’t dead but, it looks like they are not alive either,” his eyes glanced at Alucard as tears rolled down his cheeks as well then turned back to Sypha to her address her.

“Whatever Esmé is doing, she obviously got through to why this bastard was going crazy earlier, and if she’s crying...then it must be bad. Very bad.” Trevor said his brows furrowing.

Suddenly, a scream erupted from Alucard and he began to thrash around in his chair. Trevor and Sypha jumped to their feet and rushed over to see what was going on. They watched as Alucard’s nails lengthen to claws and his mouth pulled back to make it look like he was snarling.

“We have to remove Esmé!” Trevor moved to grab Esmé‘s hands but, Sypha saw something glowing in Esmé‘s eyes.

“Wait!” Trevor halted movements and turned a questioning look to Sypha.

“What do you mean wait?! This bastard is about to jump from his seat any second to rip her to shreds and you’re stopping me?!” Sypha held up a hand to halt his rant and she watched as Esmé‘s brown irises returned to her eyes.

She took a deep breath and removed her hands from Alucard’s head as the dhampir slumped back in the chair, falling unconscious.

Esmé began to fall back but, Trevor was quick to catch her, helping her stand on her feet.

“Esmé, are you alright?” Sypha asked the panting woman. Esmé couldn’t speak. After what she saw happen to Alucard, she felt anything but alright and she raised her head to look at Sypha tears rushing down her cheeks as a choked sob left her lips.

“Oh my God...Sypha it was...and they...oh my God.” Esmé was hyperventilating now and Sypha was there to pull her into her arms in a hug. Esmé’s tears soaked the speaker’s cloak and she fisted the back of it. Her cries were yelled into Sypha’s shoulder and her two companions made the decision to not find out what was wrong with Alucard, if they knew that Esmé would come back so distraught.

Esmé could now understand why he was in so much pain, the betrayal that those two committed made Esmé lose some faith in humanity.

Who could hurt a sweet, caring and understanding person like Alucard? He did not wrong to them and yet they betrayed him in that way....where he was most vulnerable and trusted them.

Esmé felt just as betrayed as Alucard was. 

End of Part 9

1// 2// 3// 4// 5// 6// 7// 8// 9// 10//

[clonecest-bin-account]

Origin of a scar

Ship: Cody/Boil

Rating: G

My take on how Cody gets his facial scar.

AO3 link

There’s a reason why Boil is part of the scouting squad, that’s because he’s got damn good observation skills, something that he prides himself of having quite a lot. It’s good to have something to excel at when you have so many people who look the exact same as him, it makes him feel special, even though he’d rather die than admitting it to anybody.

Well, there is someone who knows about it, but that someone is Cody, so it hardly matters according to Boil, not because Cody doesn’t matter, but because he tells him everything.

From confidant to something much more, Cody’s role in his life has greatly changed since Boil has become part of the 212th battalion. One of the many things that he appreciates about Cody is that he’s a great listener, always letting Boil vent his frustration nodding understandingly, and even giving him some advice; most importantly, however, he keeps his mouth shut. He’s not like his gossiping brothers, who as soon as you tell them a secret will in return tell everybody else; he understands that one must keep himself entertained, but not at his expense, for Fett’s sake!

 Anyway, we were talking about his observation skills. They come real handy when they have to scout ahead, searching for any potential danger and traps that they can report to the main forces.

It’s a very important job, upon which many lives depend: a poor scouting job means that your entire battalion could die.

This is why Boil takes his job very seriously. He would never dream of letting his brothers down.

 Sometimes, however, even he can be wrong…

 They are about to set camp, but before doing that, Cody has sent Boil and his squad to scout around them, looking for any potential threat that could hit them while they’re at their most vulnerable.

As always Boil has led his squad with maximum seriousness, settling a perimeter around where the camp will be made, but something is different, however: maybe it’s his haste to get back, maybe it’s because he’s too tired, but he doesn’t notice that they are being spied. Nobody in his squad does.

When they come back and he gives Cody the okay to beginning the construction of the camp, he has no idea of the consequences it’ll have.

 Once everything’s settled down, they all gather around a fire.

General Kenobi begins telling a story about his time in the crèche and the clones listen, rapt by his words. Boil leans closer to Cody, ignoring Waxer’s teasing look - though if he continues he might just smack the fool. Cody notices his movements but he doesn’t say anything, he just smiles at him.

If they weren’t surrounded by the rest of the vode - not to mention their kriffing General - Boil would’ve kissed him right there in that exact moment, but he doesn’t. Some things must be kept private, no matter how little privacy they actually get.

It’s not so bad he supposes, being surrounded by the people he begrudgingly loves, though he has to admit that Cody’s closeness makes everything better.

He feels so calm and relaxed that he could almost fall asleep; actually, keeping his eyes open is becoming more and more difficult. Maybe he’ll rest just for a little bit, five minutes at most…

 As he feels someone gently shaking him awake, he realizes that it hasn’t been just five minutes; the fire is almost completely out and the number of brothers around has diminished greatly. Even the General isn’t there anymore.

“Boil.”

There’s a hint of softness in the way Cody calls him to consciousness that makes Boil smile despite the fact that he’s being wakened up. Wait, if he’s being wakened up, however, then it means--

He immediately shoots up like he’s being burned.

“Sorry sir!” he exclaims immediately, like they actually were in a formal setting, which obviously isn’t true. If they were, Cody wouldn’t be chuckling like he is now.

“Boil, it’s fine. I just wanted to tell you that we should retire for the night, since you seemed tired,” he explains, barely containing his amusement. Boil groans, massaging the bridge of his nose, sensing the incoming headache.

“Please tell me everyone was away already when I fell asleep…”

Cody’s smile is telling. There’s no need for words.

“Everyone saw, didn’t they?” Boil sighs.

“If it is of any consolation, I forbade them from taking holopics.”

“I appreciate that,” Boil grumbles, though he could’ve done without this shit in the first place. Waxer is going to be insufferable for at least a week, if he gets oh so lucky.

Oh well, what is done is done and there’s nothing he can do to change it. Besides, even though sleeping against armor isn’t exactly the best - his cheek hurts - it wasn’t that horrible either, or else he wouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place.

“Alright,” he says then, “So you were talking about retiring for the night?”

If Cody wants to go, who is he to say no? Besides, he’s gotten the message loud and clear that he wants him in his tent, which of course he’s not going to refuse - he’s not an idiot. Cody nods.

“Yeah. This was fun and all but we need energy for tomorrow,” he says then. He’s not wrong.

“Well, after you then, Commander,” Boil says, putting some emphasis on that last word.

Cody doesn’t take the bait, however, but he does begin to take a few steps ahead.

 When he turns towards Boil, however, his carefree expression immediately turns into an alarmed one.

“Boil! Behind you!”

He moves immediately, pushing Boil out of the way, then everything becomes black.

 When Cody wakes up, the first thing he notices is that he’s lying down, the second is that he’s not in the infirmary that they had set in the camp - they must be back to the Negotiator - and the third is that his head hurts so kriffing much.

Why is there so much noise around? Why so many voices? He’s so confused…

 When he hisses in pain, however, everyone falls silent. Now that Cody’s vision can focus again, he can see the aghast surprise of each and every one of the people present.

“Looks like our Commander is awake.” That voice belongs to Obi-Wan, who’s on Cody’s left. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

“Hurts;” is all Cody’s able to croak. At that, he feels a pressure on his right hand. He moves his gaze towards it, and he sees that another hand is wrapper around it, squeezing. He follows the arm attached to it, then the shoulder, and only then he sees it’s Boil. To say he looks bad would be an understatement; Cody wonders if he’s been here the whole time - he hopes not.

“Cody…” He sounds so sad that it breaks Cody’s heart to hear him like this.

“Sorry…” he replies, but whatever Boil was about to say gets cut off by Helix.

“Hate to interrupts, but I need to ask the Commander a few questions about how he’s feeling.”

“Sure, but can anyone also tell me what happened?”

 It was an ambush. Those damned commando droids.

One of them was about to slice Boil, and it would’ve succeeded if Cody hadn’t pushed him out of the way, getting hit in his stead.

“You got lucky that it didn’t get your eye,” Helix comments, “But I’m not going to lie, it’s going to leave a naaasty scar.”

That’s the last of Cody’s problems, to be honest. At least a facial scar will make him look unique; besides, it’s also a badge of honor: it means that he survived.

Still, he must’ve given everyone such a scare, not to mention that he’s missed the entirety of the mission, though it’s clear that it must’ve gone well.

 He turns towards Boil.

“You’re fine, that’s what matters,” he manages to say, only to be met by the mournful silence of his men, at least until Boil snaps.

“With all due respect, that’s banthashit and you know it, sir,” he says, conveying all these days’ anger at his impotence in front of Cody’s conditions in that last word. “If I was so incompetent that I didn’t think of moving away, then maybe I should’ve died!”

He’s not crying, but he’s close to it. He refuses however, because he doesn’t want to be seen like that by anyone, not even his closest vode, not even by Cody, actually, especially by Cody: he wouldn’t want to make him feel like he saved a crybaby.

 “Boil.”

Cody’s voice commands everyone’s attention. He’s so serious already.

“Don’t you ever say that again, that’s an order,” he begins, though his voice gets softer as he continues. “If our positions were switched, wouldn’t you have done the same? You and everyone else for the matter…”

Boil’s silence at those words speak enough for itself.

“I would be a very poor Commander if I didn’t take any chance I’d get to save my men, no matter how clumsy they are being at the moment. For the record, I actually find you a very capable soldier, but even capable soldiers need help from time to time.”

“Besides…” and now it’s his turn to squeeze Boil’s hand, “I would never let anything happen to you.”

 In the silence that follows, most of the vode present begin to leave.

“We’ll give you a moment,” General Kenobi says then, resting one hand on Cody’s shoulder. “Let us know if you need something.”

“I will,” Cody replies, though he thinks the General knows already that he won’t, because he’d hate to be a burden to anyone.

Still, he thankfully doesn’t mention anything about it. He just nods, then he leaves he, Boil and Helix alone.

“You’re stable, but I’ll be around in case of emergency,” the medic comments, then he turns to Boil, “You can stay but just for five minutes. After that you’re both getting some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

 With that, Cody and Boil are truly alone now.

“Boil--” Cody tries to say, but Boil’s on him immediately, cupping his face between his hands and pressing their lips together. This feels way better than just talking.

When they pull away, Cody feels dizzy, but maybe that’s just the lack of oxygen.

 Maybe it’s in order to duck under Cody’s gaze - he doesn’t want to be seen in such a distraught state, though he supposes he already has, hasn’t he? - that Boil closes his arms around him, burying his face in the space between Cody’s neck and his shoulder.

Cody, of course, returns the hug immediately. It feels so reassuring being in his arms. Now Boil can finally get his confirmation that this isn’t just some kind of prank, but it’s true.

“Just next time, Cody--”

“You know I can’t do that,” Cody interrupts him, knowing already what he was going to ask. Well, at least he tried.

“I’m just glad that you’re alive,” Boil mutters, caressing Cody’s cheek with one hand.

 They’re about to lean in for another kiss, when Helix steps up to Cody’s cot again.

“Alright, time’s up,” he says, “I understand your worry, Boil, but the Commander needs to rest now. You can come visit later.”

Disappointed by having his time cut short, Boil pulls away. He may not be happy about it, but he’ll still obey.

“I’ll be fine, Boil, there’s no need to worry,” Cody reassures him, managing to lift his spirit up, if only a bit.

“I’m counting on it, sir,” he replies, giving him one last peck on his lips before leaving towards the bunks, suddenly feeling very drained and tired.

Turns out he’s in need of some rest too.

 He still feels guilty about this whole ordeal, no matter what Cody says about it. It’s his fault that he’s now got that nasty scar on his face - it’s still dressed by bandages but he can tell already that it’s going to be rough to look at - and nothing will ever change that.

The only thing he can do about it now it to stay close to Cody and help him recover, besides also of course never make such a mistake on the job.

No, he’ll make sure something like this never happens again.

[notalwayslate]

What Must Be Done

Hello @joylee56​ it is I your Secret Santa. I was thrilled to get you, as I loved the gift you gave me, Fresh Start, at the last exchange! I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Role Reversal, books, Nealfire

What Must Be Done

Summary: When a magical mishap transports Belle into the story of an old spinner she soon discovers what must be done to save his son.

Read it on AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344366

“Ahem.”

Belle looked up from her book to find Rumpelstiltskin standing in the entryway, his dark brown leather apron tightly wrapped around his body, with a look of impatience on his face. She spotted a beaker in his right hand, containing what she could only assume was some magical concoction that he spent the afternoon creating.  

"I have been calling you for the last five minutes,” he huffed shaking his head in frustration. “I am in need of your assistance. That is if you could spare the time from your busy cleaning schedule."

 Unbothered by the jab, Belle had grown quite accustomed to bantering with the Dark One. Although he often feigned outrage over her lack of housekeeping, she was well aware that he placed no real expectation of servitude upon her.  He had gifted her a library after all, and both of them knew that the castle tended to itself. Yet, for reasons she didn’t quite fully understand, they both kept up the pretense that her role at the castle, and more importantly in his life, was that only of a maid.

"Can’t it wait till later?" she pled blinking, as she lay curled up on her favorite reading chaise with a book in hand.

The side of his mouth twitched, and she was unsure if it was out of amusement or annoyance.

"I'm sure the handsome young hero in your book can wait, because I cannot.  Now put it down. I need you to write down the instructions for this spell exactly how I tell you."

Throwing her head back she groaned at the inane task.  "Can't you write it yourself?"

Rumpelstiltskin pursed his lips as his eyes narrowed at her. "And what have another blunder like the one with that simpleton farmer? I still have nightmares about that delivery!'

It had been quite the mishap for poor old Mr. McGill, an aging farmer who had desperately wanted his wife to have a child, after years of trying. Rumpelstiltskin had guaranteed him a baby, for a price of course.  Eager to finally have an heir, the farmer readily agreed and was given the fertility potion along with hand written instructions on how to use it.

 Unfortunately for Mr. McGill, the Dark One’s penmanship was atrocious, and he mistakenly took the vial meant for his wife.  Nine months later, with a little help from a very traumatized Dark One, Mr. McGill had safely delivered a pair of healthy young girls.

"Good point," Belle nodded, letting out a sigh as she closed the book. "I guess I have to wait till tomorrow to see what happens to Baelfire."

The sound of shattering glass startled her, as she looked over to see the broken beaker sprawled across the floor where Rumple stood. She opened her mouth to tease that she was not the only klutz in the castle, but his look of complete bewilderment silenced her words.

"Wh-what did you say?"

Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. “I…” her brows furrowed in a confused worry as she stumbled to speak. Something was wrong. In all the months she lived there, he had never looked that way before.

"I…I was talking about a story," she held up the small leather bound book she had just been reading, as his eyes zeroed in on it.  Her nerves grew the longer he silently stared, so she started rambling to fill the awkward silence.

"Well it’s not so much a story really, but a journal. I mean it jumps around, with no real rhyme or reason, but what I can gather it’s about a poor man who needs to find the Duke's magical dagger to save his son Baelfire."

Slowly, calculatingly, he moved his menacing stare up from the book, and into her eyes. For the first time in her life she felt true fear in the presence of the Dark One.

"Where did you get that?" he snarled his voice inflamed with a sinister tone.

"I...I found it when I was dusting." She glanced down at the journal in her trembling hands with confusion.  How could such an unassuming book draw such a powerful reaction from the Dark One?   "You...you said I could read any book in the castle as long as it wasn't in your laboratory," she spoke defensively feeling the urge to justify whatever wrong she had clearly inflicted upon him.

Taking a deep breath, she braced for his harshness, but cold silence was all she heard.  Although his eyes still bore into hers, it was as if he was looking right through her, lost in his own world. A gnawing guilt crept into her heart at seeing him so distraught.

Timidly she bit her lip. "I'm sorry Rumpelstiltskin. I will return the book to where I found it at once."

Hastily she moved around the large table, keeping her eyes down cast as she moved towards the door where he stood. She intended to pass without a word, but as she neared him, she noticed his entire body was shaking.

Was he ill? The fear for her own safety dissipated as she worried now for his.  She couldn’t just leave him like this, especially surrounded by broken glass.  Quickly she dropped to her knees before him, placing the journal on the floor next to her.  She hadn’t thought this through thoroughly as she had nothing but her hands to pick up the jagged shards of glass.

Carefully she reached for the largest piece, when her hand slipped against the floor, barreling her palm right across the jagged edge of glass.  When she looked down at her bleeding hand, she noticed the journal out of the corner of her eye, now lying in a shifted pool of whatever was in the beaker.  She reached for it, crying out when the wetly coated book made contact with her cut hand.

Her sharp cry broke Rumple from his frozen stupor. He looked down, his brows furrowing in concern as he whimpered, “You’re hurt.”

She felt his arms wrap around her, before everything went black.

X

"Mama."

A tiny voice soon followed by a gentle shake of her shoulder rustled Belle from sleep. She felt the unmistakable poking of straw clipping at her face and hair. If she was sleeping on a pile of straw, there could only be one explanation. Sighing, she opened her eyes.

"Did you really put me back in the dungeon, Rumpelstiltskin," she called out, knowing full well he could hear her from any part in the castle. “I told you I was sorry.”

"Mama?"

Startled by the voice, Belle sat up, to see a young floofy haired boy, looking straight at her. Her jaw dropped at the sight of him. His clothing was worn and tattered. How long had he been down here?

"Are you okay Mama?"

Befuddled Belle looked around searching for whomever the young boy was talking to. She didn’t see anyone else, but even more confounding were her surroundings.  She wasn’t in one of the dungeons at the Dark Castle. It appeared to be more of a shack, a hovel of sort.

"Mama?"

She could hear the growing concern in the young boy’s voice, and turned her attention back towards him. Wanting to comfort the confused lost child, she went to stand, crying out when a rush of searing hot pain shot through her right leg.

"I'll get your staff, Mama." the young boy called out, reaching for a wooden stick against the far side of the wall. He silently placed it in her hand as she slowly stood. How had she hurt her leg?

So many questions raced through her mind, but she needed to deal with the most pressing matter at hand.

"Where is your mama, sweetheart?" she asked the young lad.

"I don't understand, Mama.” he shook his head. “Is this some sort of game?”

“You tell me,” she countered still thoroughly confused as to whom this boy was, and why he kept calling her his mother.

“Are you feeling okay Mama?

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to stop calling her that, but as she saw the genuine look of concern in his big brown eyes, she thought better of it. If she had to guess he was probably around 11 or 12 years of age. He was a handsome young lad, and even though she had never laid eyes upon him before, there was something familiar in his manner, that she couldn’t quite place.

“I’m fine sweetheart,” she forced a smile playing along. “I’m just feeling a little out of sort today.”

“Are you having second thoughts about tonight, Mama?” he inquired. “Are we still running away?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the odd revelation. Running away? Why would they be running away and more importantly from whom?  

“Well…” she hesitated a moment, trying to figure out the best way to get the answers she so desperately needed without seeming like a complete lunatic to the young child. “Why do you think I want us to run away?”

He hung his head, kicking at the dirt floor.

“Because the Duke has lowered the age to fight again, and they are going to take me away, like they did Morraine.”

Wait, she knew that story.  

“And I know you want to keep me safe Mama, but it just doesn’t feel right to flee.”

An impossible reality dawned upon her, as she looked incredulously at the young boy.

“Baelfire?”

“I don’t want them to look at me like a coward Mama, and…”

His voice drowned into the background, as her head swarmed in a dizzied disbelief. She felt disoriented and stumbled to an old wooden chair nearby. Baelfire was at her side in an instant. She didn’t want to frighten him, but she needed time to herself to process everything.  

Tempering her panic for a brief moment, she mustered all of her strength, kindly asking Baelfire to fetch some water from the creek.  He was hesitant to leave her at first, but she assured him with a false sense of calm that she had merely become overheated, and needed a cool fresh cup of water.  

The moment he left, her refrained composure crumpled as she rocked back and forth in the chair. How did this happen? Why was she here? Closing her eyes, she searched her memory, trying to find any possible explanation for this. The last thing she remembered she had cut herself and ... her eyes opened with a sudden epiphany.

 Her hand had been covered in a mixture of blood and magic when she reached for the journal.  Had she unknowingly cast herself into the book when she touched it? Rumpelstiltskin always claimed that blood magic was one of the most powerful but dangerous in all of the lands.

Taking a long deep breath, she tried to recall every detail she read in the journal.  Based off of her conversation with Baelfire, they were already past the part of the story where Morraine had been taken away by the Duke’s men.

Her heart dropped, as she remembered what came next in the story. They couldn’t flee tonight, if they did they would surely be caught by Hordor and his men.

She would have to come up with a new plan quickly to get Baelfire out of town.

  After a few minutes, Baelfire returned with a bucket of water.  As she opened her mouth to tell him of their change of plans, she suddenly found herself transported to the cold darkened enchanted forest, as an array of soldiers and horses surrounded her.

Having lived with Rumpelstiltskin she was use to the sensation of being magically transported. In her early days at the castle, she had on quite a few occasions suddenly found herself outside the castle next to the clothesline with a basket of laundry. Although she found it annoying, she never was afraid, knowing that Rumple would never send her anywhere dangerous.

But this was not Rumple’s magic.

Her heart filled with trepidation, as the horses circled around her and Baelfire. It appeared the book had a will of its own, transporting her to the scene she had desperately wanted to avoid.  The story had already been written, and now she was forced to follow it.

Her heart pounded in her ears as Hordor spoke of treason, and ordered his men to take the boy.

“Don’t touch my son!” Belle cried out, feeling a fierce motherly protection as she moved Baelfire behind her.

Hordor’s chilling laugh filled the night air as he rode his horse next to her. “Kiss my boot.”

“What?” she asked in disbelief.

“Kiss my boot, and the boy can go home with you tonight. Or” he gave a small shrug, “you can kiss something else of mine.”  

Swallowing her pride she bent over to kiss the dastardly cretin’s muddy boot, but he moved his foot at the last minute, kicking her square in the ribs. As her bruised body started to fall towards the ground, she suddenly found herself sitting in front of a fireplace. Flustered by the abrupt change, it took her a moment to regain her bearings.

She was one again in the same hovel, but this time an old man sat across from her. Her thoughts immediately turned to Baelfire, as her eyes searched the room for him. A rush of relief filled her heart, as she spotted him sleeping on the straw cot.

He was safe…for now.

The old man cleared his throat clearly trying to regain her attention, as she drew her eyes back to him.

“As I was saying, The Duke has the Dark One in thrall. He's enslaved him with the power of a mystical dagger and on the blade is written a name – the true name of the Dark One. If you steal the dagger, then you would control the Dark One yourself. And then no one would be able to take your son away from you.”

Her heart stopped at the mention of the Dark One.  Was Rumpelstiltskin here in this story?   The journal had made no mention of the magical dagger having ties to the Dark One. It appeared that the book had decided to give her more information now, a clearer picture of the the story than what she had previously read.  

“Can you imagine,” the old man continued. “A poor lame soul with that much power. Why you could save all the children…not just your son.”

A spinning wheel, which wasn’t there before, suddenly came into her view.  It was sitting next to the pile of straw that she had previously awoken from.  Flabbergasted, her jaw hung open as she immediately recognized the object as the same one she spent many a day and night reading next to in the grand hall.  Her heart tugged forth a memory.

“Why do you spin so much?”

“It helps me to forget.”

“Forget what?”

Stupefied she pulled her gaze from the spinning wheel as another realization dawned upon her. Stumbling, she found her footing, as she hobbled towards the young sleeping boy. Her fingers brushed against the tattered shawl he had worn earlier which now doubled as his blanket.

Tears swelled in her eyes as she realized she had seen that very shawl before in a room at the Dark Castle.  She had always wondered who the small clothes had belonged to but now she knew. They belonged to his son. This was Rumpelstiltskin’s story.

Remembering she was not alone she spun on her heel, armed with a series of questions, but much to her surprise the old man was gone. Sighing at the sudden erratic changes the book bestowed she went to move the now unoccupied chair, but the scraping of the legs against the floor awoke Baelfire.

“Let me help you Mama,” he called out, but she held up her hand, silently halting him in place.

“It’s fine sweetheart,” she smiled, moving the chair to sit next to him as he laid back down. She gave a silent plea to whoever was guiding this, to allow her a little more time with him, before she was yanked away to face another part of the story.

Reaching out she tussled her fingers through his hair.

“You look so much like your father,” she marveled truly taking the time to look at him.  

“Will you tell me about him Mama?”

The hopefulness in his voice melted her heart. She recalled in the journal that they boy’s mother had left them, but instead of the truth, his father had told him she had died.   She could only assume now with the roles reversed and she here, that he believed his father to be dead.

“Well he was a very handsome man,” she smiled recalling the first time she had ever laid her eyes upon him. “He had a very hard exterior, intimidating for some, but when you got to know him, see the real person underneath it all, well…he was completely and utterly fascinating. I…” she looked down with a small blush to her cheeks. “I couldn’t get enough of being around him. He was such a mystery to be uncovered.”

Baelfire smiled wistfully. “I wish I knew him Mama. I wish he was with us now. ”

Leaning down, she kissed the top of his head. “So do I, sweetheart, so do I.”

Once Baelfire succumbed to sleep, Belle closed her eyes to pray. Although she had unexpectedly been thrusted into this situation, she was thankful for every moment she got with Baelfire. Although she wasn’t really his mother, the love she felt for him rivaled that of one.

As she continued to pray for their safety, a strong odor of smoke tickled at her nose. Concerned that an ember strayed from the fire, she opened her eyes to an inferno before her.

She wasn’t in their home though, she was now standing outside a castle as a fire blazed across its walls. Baelfire was at her side. Instinctively she wrapped her arm around his shoulder pulling him close to her. Looking down she saw a pile of soaked sheep wool, and realized that they must have started the fire with it.

“So what do we do next Mama?”

She wiped the sweat from her forehead, as the heat from the flames grew more sweltering.  Placing her hand on Baelfire’s shoulder she looked him in the eyes.

“You need to go. Whatever comes next I must do alone.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Go home Baelfire, I will be there later tonight, I promise.”

He turned to go, stopping after a few strides. “Be safe Mama. I love you.”

Smiling she spoke freely from her heart. “I love you too son.”

As he disappeared into the night, Belle turned her focus back to the fire before her. So this was the Duke’s castle, she surmised.  Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, mustering all of her bravery. She could do this. She would do this for Baelfire.  

Opening her eyes she walked towards the blazing castle with a mother’s determination burning in her heart.   Although she was unfamiliar with the layout of the castle, an unknown force guided her effortlessly through every passageway.

She soon found herself in a long hallway with multiple banners hanging from the wall.  She felt an uncontrollable pull to the green one. Lifting the banner back, she gasped as a long jagged dagger, with the name Zoso engraved upon it, sat on display. There was a heavy darkness in the air surrounding it, an electricity of sort that she had felt once before as she passed by a locked room in the Dark Castle.

As her fingers grasped around the handle, she abruptly found herself transported to a clearing outside the burning castle.

As she stood alone in the night holding the dagger, she felt utterly lost.

“I never got this far in the story…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she called out, hoping the book would take pity on her.

She waited for something, anything to happen, but a still cold silence surrounded her. Letting out a sigh, she looked down at the dagger in her hand. Did this really control the Dark One?  It seemed impossible.  If Belle was certain of one thing it was that Rumpelstiltskin was nobody’s puppet. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. Every deal he struck was of his own free will. He didn’t just come to every soul that called upon him.

It suddenly dawned on her. She had called upon a Dark One once before, and made a deal that changed her life, and now it appeared it was time to do it again. Holding the dagger up she spoke.  

“Zoso, Zoso, I summon thee.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose alerting her to his presence.

“You were asking for me?”

Do the brave thing, she thought and bravery will follow. Turning on her heel she saw a dark hooded figure before her. He took a step towards her, his face still shrouded.

She could tell quickly that this Dark One was very different than Rumpelstiltskin.  Rumple was known for his showmanship, openly strutting around, wanting every living creature near and far to see and know exactly who he was. This Dark One preferred to stay in the shadows, to impose a mysterious fear in the hearts of those who dared to call upon him.

“Wield the power of the dagger wisely. You can wield it anytime now. It's almost dawn. That means it's your son's birthday. I bet Hordor and his men are already on their way to your house. Unlike you he’s not a coward and yearns to fight and die in a battle of glory.”

Stunned speechless by his apparent knowledge of the situation, Belle stood silently looking at him. After a moment, the Dark One started to speak again, as if he was an actor reading from a script, and she had missed her cue.

“What a poor bargain that would be to lay down your soul down to have your bastard son safe. So, I ask you, what would you have me to do?”

Taken aback by his insinuations, Belle could see how a person could become flustered and act purely on emotion to counter this Dark One’s aggressive tactics.  Although she held the dagger, it appeared that Zoso was the one still in control.

“Show me your face,” she commanded.

Tilting his head in confusion, he pushed back the hood to reveal the familiar face of the old man who was in her home. Her jaw dropped at the sight of him.

“It’s you,” her body shook with rage.

“You wanted this. You manipulated him. You took advantage of a father’s love and his desperation. Rumpelstiltskin only became the Dark One to save his son! ” she screamed, as the as the dark one took two swift strides at her, wrapping his hand tightly around her neck.

“Who are you?” he hissed.

“Someone who loves them.”

The Dark One’s grip tightened around her neck, as he lifted her dangling body inches from the ground. “This isn’t your story, girl.”

She struggled to breathe as his grip tightened. As the world around her darkened, her final thoughts turned to Baelfire, and what grisly fate would await him if she died now. She had to protect him. For Rumpelstiltskin’s son, she would do what must be done.

With her last ounce of strength, she lifted her arm, plunging the dagger down towards Zoso’s back.

Jolting upright, she frantically looked around, mentally preparing for whatever scenario was next in the book, when a familiar voice rung in the air.

“It’s okay Belle. I’m here. You’re okay, sweetheart.”

Looking towards the sound, her heart leapt with joy at the sight of Rumpelstiltskin perched at her bed side.  

“Rumple!” she cried out, lunging for him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  She let out a sigh of contentment as his hands stroked her back.  She could have stayed in his embrace for hours, but all too soon he pushed her back away from him.  

“How do you feel, Belle? Does anything hurt?” he fretted as his tender eyes glanced over her.

“I…I don’t think so,” she replied uncertain.

Checking her right hand, she gazed astonishingly at how perfectly normal it was.  There wasn’t the slightest trace of the deep cut. She had no doubt that Rumple had healed it with his magic.  

Glancing around the familiar surroundings of her bed chamber, she knew she was safe. She was home.

“Belle….I,” her attention turned back to Rumple, who quickly stood up, ringing his hands nervously in front of him.  “My behavior…before…I…”

She cut off his apology. “It’s okay Rumple.”

“No,” he shook his head adamantly. “It was appalling. I want you to know…you are safe here Belle. I would,” his eyes watered, “I would never hurt you Belle. Never.”    

“I know, Rumple. I know.” She gave him a reassuring smile, as he stared at her in awe. Just then a log shifted in the fireplace, as the flames crackled to life.

The smell of the flames brought every memory back. The fire, the duke’s castle, Zoso.

Overwrought with concern her eyes searched the room.

“Where’s Baelfire? Is he safe?”

His brows furrowed at her for just a moment before he schooled his features.  

“There is no one here Belle. You were just dreaming.” With a flick of his wrist, the chipped teacup appeared on her night table. “Have some tea, and relax.”

“No,” she shook her head fiercely. “I was there, in the story. I…I don’t know how, but I was there in the book, Rumple. I was with him.  I was with Baelfire.” Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes.  “I was with your son.”

He stood stoically for a moment before his façade fell, and his shoulders slumped forward. He looked so small, defeated. Her stomach twisted in knots, but she pressed forward.

“That journal I was reading, it was yours. You stole the dagger from the Duke; you killed Zoso and became the Dark One to save your son.  

Voice quivering she asked the question she was scared to know the answer of.  “Please Rumple, I need to know, did you save Baelfire?

Moments of a heavy silence filled the room.

“Yes,” he croaked his voice small and timid. “I saved him from the ogres.”

She let out a cry of relief. “Oh thank the Gods!”

Her glee was quickly tempered as Rumple stood straight, a storm of anguish raging in his eyes.  

“Oh I wouldn’t celebrate Mistress. I saved him from one evil, only to lose him to an even greater one….myself.”

Her heart dropped. “What happened to him?”

He turned his back.

“The burden of losing him is mine alone.”

She could feel the pain in his voice, and felt an overwhelming desire to hold him.

“But it doesn’t have to be Rumpelstiltskin.”

Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, as she slid from her bed.  She was afraid if she approached him too quickly and tried to touch him, he would flee. Slowly she moved towards him, stopping a few feet away.  She didn’t know what to say, so she let her heart do the talking.

“Although my time with him was brief, I can assure you the impact Baelfire made on my heart was everlasting. He’s an easy boy to love…and I do love him, Rumple. I love him like he is my own.  ”

Biting her lip she tried to hold back her tears. “Please…tell me what happened to him.”

With a heavy broken sigh, Rumpelstiltskin kept his back turned as he relayed the sad tale of how Baelfire went alone through the portal to a Land without magic. She stood there quietly listening, as her heart broke for Baelfire and for the shattered father standing before her.

Once finished, he turned to face her, as she let out a tiny gasp at what she saw in his hands.

“I chose this, above my son that day.”

It looked the exact same as when she held it, except it was now engraved with Rumpelstiltskin’s name.  

“When I reunite with my son in the land without magic, I will right this wrong, and be rid of this dastardly thing once and for all.”

“Reunite? He’s…he’s alive?” she asked with a spark of hope in her voice.

“Oh, yes.”

Astonished, she held up her hands. “What are we waiting for Rumple? We should leave at once.” She looked towards the wardrobe wondering what to pack, as Rumple spoke.

“Belle,” his solemn voice cooled her excitement. “We can’t go…at least not yet.”

She looked at him quizzically.

“There is another story you need to hear.”

After handing her the cup of tea, Belle sat back on the bed quietly listening, as Rumpelstiltskin delved into all the failed attempts he made to reach the Land without Magic.

“I will start researching tomorrow Rumple. There has to be something you’ve missed, a magic bean…a portal somewhere. I’ll help you find it, I swear I won’t rest until I find a way.”

A genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Looking down, his hand hovered over her empty teacup, as it magically refilled.  

After taking a few sips, she noticed his face grew more serious.  

“I have found a possible way to the land without magic.”

Her eyes lit up, but he held his hand to temper her excitement.  “But it is a dark path, Belle. A curse. One that would affect many for a very long time.  I have painstakingly been putting the pieces in the place for years. It won’t happen now, but the time is coming soon when the curse will be cast.”

The thought of a curse terrified her, but what shook her even more was her inability to admonish him for it. What wouldn’t a parent do for their child? She herself had plunged the dagger into Zoso’s back to protect Baelfire. A parent’s love was the most beautiful but dangerous thing in the entire world.  

“Do what you must to find him.”

Tears swelled in his astonished eyes. She knew he wasn’t expecting her acceptance, which only made her want to give it to him all the more.

“Although I won’t stand in your way, I still want to try and find another way to the land without magic,” she clarified.  

“I know you do,” he gave her a mournful smile, as his eyes landed on the half drunken teacup in her hand.  “But sadly you won’t remember any of this.”

Her stomach dropped.

“You put something in the tea?” she asked in dismay.

He stood quickly, grasping the bedpost at the foot of her bed.

“You know too much, Belle. You know about the dagger, about Baelfire. The curse.”

A mixture of rage and hurt coiled in her stomach. “You don’t trust me?”

 “It’s now that Belle.” He let go of the bedpost. “I trust you more than anyone else in this world.”

“Then why?” she cried out.

 “There are a multitude of moving pieces that have to fall just right to reunite with my son, and you,” he placed his hands on his heart. “You. Sweet…beautiful Belle can be used as a pawn against me.”

His words did little to placate the betrayal she felt in her heart.

“I would never tell anyone, you know that Rumple. I would never betray you.”

He looked pained, as he dejectedly sat down on the edge of her mattress.

“I know that. Truly I know that Belle. But I have enemies that would use any means necessary to get whatever information they could to destroy me. You can’t know any of the things you do, for my safety…and more importantly for your own.”

Her wet tears fell heavy and hard against her cheeks.

“But I don’t want to forget him. I don’t want to forget about Baelfire.”

Her confession drew him to her in an instant. His warm hands cupped her cheeks, and although she was still angry with him, she did not pull away as his own sorrowful eyes looked upon her.

“We will see him again Belle. I swear it.”

As his fingers wiped the tears from her eyes, she felt a sudden wave of drowsiness.  

“It’s okay sweetheart, it’s just the magic taking effect.

His hands moved from her face, as she felt his arms wrap around her.

“That’s it Belle,” she heard his voice coo as he moved her up toward the pillows. “Sleep sweet Bell, and when you awake everything will be as before.”

As her head hit the pillow, she used what little strength she had left to confess.

“I wish I really could be his mother,” she mumbled.

 The last thing she heard as sleep overtook was Rumple’s faint response.

“So do I.”

I couldn’t just leave it there….I’m a sucker for happy endings!

“I’m back Mama,” four year Gideon called out, as the front door slammed close. She was still struggling to get off the couch, when Gideon excitedly ran over to her.

“Did you and your brother have fun at the zoo today sweetheart?”

Gideon nodded . “Neal and I saw the tigers and they were so cool.” He placed his small hands on her pregnant belly. “Can we take little sister to see them when she comes?”

“Of course,” Belle responded looking up as Neal walked into the living room. Plopping down on the other end of the couch, he rubbed his bone tired eyes.

“I don’t know how you guys do this day in and day out. I swear this kid gets more energy throughout the day.” Neal yawned.  “Does he come with an off switch?”

Laughing, Belle lifted her son’s arms, pretending to search. “Let me see, do you come with an off switch, Gideon?”

Howling with laughter, Gideon shook his head. “Nope,” as he wiggled off of his mother’s lap, barreling straight for his older brother, who caught him with a resounding, “umph.”

It warmed Belle’s heart to see the bond between the two brothers despite their staggering age difference. With Henry now 16 and living primary with his mother Emma, Neal was able to give much of his time to his younger brother, who thought the world of him.

“Where’s pops?” Neal asked as Gideon settled into his arms.

“He went to pick up dinner, chinese alright with you?”

“It could never be wrong,” Neal said with a smirk.

The reconciliation between Neal and Rumplestiltskin had been a long fought journey, but in the end the bond between father and son was stronger than ever.

“So how did everything go today?”

Resting her hands on her belly she smiled. “Good. The doctor says everything looks great, and she’s developing right on schedule.”

“That’s great, Belle.” Neal stated as Gideon crawled up to wrap his small arms around his neck.

“Why do you call her that?” Gideon asked as Neal looked at him puzzled.

“Cause that’s her name, silly!”

“No,” Gideon countered. “Why don’t you call mom, mom?”

“Gideon, honey,” Belle started to speak, when Neal cut her off.

“No, no it’s okay Belle, it’s a valid question.” Turning his attention back to Gideon, Neal explained that he lost his mother when he was younger. Upon hearing the news Gideon eagerly volunteered to help him find her.

“I’m really good and hide and seek. I bet I can find her.” Gideon crowed.

Biting her lip, Belle gently explained that Neal’s mother was not lost.

“Do you remember what happened with your pet hamster, Gideon?”

Bowing his head in sadness, Gideon spoke. “He went to heaven.”

“Well that is where Neal’s mother went,” Belle explained.

Belle watched as Gideon turned his attention back on his older brother, before giving him a hug. After a moment Gideon looked up at Neal with bright eyes.

“I know…my mom can be your mom too.”

“Gideon,” Belle chided, but he continued.

“We have the same Dad, and I’m sure Mom will be happy to be your Mom too, wouldn’t you Mom?” Gideon asked looking over at her.

Caught off guard Belle found herself speechless. It was true that she was Neal’s stepmother, but the fact that he was actually four years older than her, made for an awkward situation at first. But as time passed they fell into a caring friendship, and truth be told, she took on a motherly role often consoling and counseling him through obstacles he faced in his life.

“Of course I would Gideon but…” she didn’t quite know what to say, when Neal chimed in.

“I’m game if you are?” Neal asked smiling.

Belle’s heart fluttered at the idea.

“I would love it,” Belle responded with a smile.

[finelythreadedsky]

Hello I just looked up the Frederic Leighton Orpheus and Eurydice because you mentioned it and 1) I'm having feelings and 2) I would very happily read any and all thoughts you have on it

ahh I love it so much it’s one of my favorite paintings of all time! I wrote my first ever real paper on it (specifically on its engagement with Ovid) and to this day I don’t know how I did on that paper, but writing it was transformative for my understanding of the myth. This past summer I finally got to see the painting in person at the Leighton House and discovered there’s a Robert Browning poem affixed to the frame that definitely would have been helpful to know about while writing about it. It somewhat supports my points anyway though, so that’s okay.

long post: Ovid, Leighton, and my 2016 and 2020 takes on the two of them

First of all: his eyes. Obscured and shadowed and leaving it ambiguous whether or not his gaze has fallen on Eurydice yet. Is this the moment before he gives in and looks at her? Is it the split second after he sees her and before she disappears? YES. (I did finally get to confirm that the eyes are just as shadowy and ambiguous in person as in all the pictures on the internet.)

Secondly, something a lot of paintings of Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the underworld do, but which is particularly brought to the forefront here: Orpheus is touching Eurydice. He should clearly know that she’s there, since he can feel her, so why would he doubt her presence and need to see her to confirm that she’s there? Many other painters show him leading her by the hand (Corot, Feuerbach, Rubens, Poynter, Cervelli, Vignali, Raoux), creating a paradox where you’re just not supposed to think too hard about what it means for the story that they’re holding hands. But what’s going on here is much more than that. She seems to be actively urging him to turn around (a point in which I was vindicated by the Browning poem, which ends “look at me!”). Leighton’s drawing attention to their physical contact and the impossibility of Orpheus NOT knowing that she’s there. He must know, she’s clinging to him so tightly, and look at his hand, he acknowledges her presence by pushing her away, actively trying to avoid looking at her.

So from there I go back to Ovid (metamorphoses 10.44-52)

… Nec regia coniunx sustinet oranti nec qui regit ima negare, Eurydicenque vocant. Umbras erat illa recentes inter et incessit passu de vulnere tardo. Hanc simul et legem Rhodopeius accipit Orpheus, ne flectat retro sua lumina, donec Avernas exierit valles: aut inrita dona futura.

Neither the royal consort nor he who reigns below can bear to deny the beggar what he asks. They call for Eurydice. She was among the recently deceased, and she walked with a stride slowed by her wound. Rhodopeian (Thracian) Orpheus received her and a rule at the same time OR At the same time, Rhodopeian (Thracian) Orpheus also received this rule: that he not turn his eyes behind him until he had left the valleys of Avernus, or else the gift would be in vain

The pains Ovid takes here to note that Orpheus gets Eurydice and the rule “simul,” at the same time— specifically, that he does not get Eurydice before the condition is named. Eurydice is not present when they specify that he is not allowed to turn around. She doesn’t know that he’s not allowed to look at her. That’s what I think Leighton’s working with.

Eurydice is begging Orpheus to look at her and he won’t and she has no idea why. She’s confused, she’s distraught, the man she loves, the man who just descended to the underworld for her, refuses to look at her. She’s desperately begging him to look at her and acknowledge her and speak to her and confirm he loves her, her as a person, not just the idea of being the man who could sing someone back from the dead.

He doesn’t turn because he doubts she’s there. He knows. He can feel her arms around him and hear her pleas. He turns because he cannot bear her thinking that he doesn’t love her. He needs her to know that he loves her, even if it means losing her. His resolve to not look at her is defeated by the strength of his love, not his doubt. He turns knowing she is there and knowing he will lose her, because he cannot face the alternative, that she thinks he does not love her and that he raised her from the dead out of pride, not love.

Now, why on earth he can’t just use his voice and tell her he’s not allowed to look at her, I have no idea. That youtube comment asking why the two of them don’t just marco-polo their way out? Yeah, that. Oh also throughout the paper I referred to Ovid’s version of the character as “Eurydice” and Leighton’s version as “Euridice” with the Italian spelling because for some reason the internet often gives the painting’s title in Italian, but actually that was a really helpful way of dealing with two portrayals of the same figure.

In the last few years I’ve moved toward a much less romantic perspective on the myth. I talked somewhat recently about my take on Eurydice, and last year I got something close to it. I think these poems and this art capture a lot of my thoughts right now. But still, like Leighton, I adore the idea of her asking him, even begging him, to turn around. Like in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, when Heloise says “perhaps she was the one who said, ‘turn around.’” But in Portrait of a Lady on Fire I think the implications are that Eurydice would be urging him to make the artist’s choice rather than the lover’s choice, telling him that art is more important than love, that the memory of love is enough (which is, incidentally, I think exactly what the Browning poem is saying). 

I think I’ve been wanting to examine whether it is love to begin with. Reinterrogating what it means to say that the memory of love is what’s important-- that the idea of the woman is more than the woman herself. Maybe Eurydice doesn’t mind being dead. After all, it is the first thing she has done for herself, all her life things have been done to her. It’s the first time she has existed as her own person. Maybe she would like to stay dead, stay in a world without Orpheus. Maybe she knows that his relationship to her is one of art, not love, and that he has always looked at her as more a poem than a person. Is she angry at him for having the audacity to break the laws of nature, to intrude on the one thing that is supposed to be hers alone? Asking him to turn is asking him to respect the finality of death, to come to terms with and accept his loss, to let her rest in peace, to let her exist apart from him. She might ask those things as desperately as Leighton paints her.

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 16 - REACH OUT, I’LL BE THERE

Good Evening all! Here is the long-awaited next chapter of Edinburgh to Boston. Once again life has sent another challenge my way to cope with. There are days I cope well and other days. But,let’s not discuss that.

I also had another reason to keep this back until now.  This chapter deals with subjects that are relevant to the New Year: hope, forgiveness, new beginnings, peace. 

As always, I need to thank my most fabulous beta @scubalass​ who finds all my errors, inconsistencies and generally keeps me on the straight and narrow path. I could not do this without you. 🧡🤗

Another interesting item is that Hubby and I were watching a documentary on Motown and the song Reach Out, I’ll Be There came on. And all I could think about was that must be how Jamie feels about Claire as he listens to her. There is a youtube link at the end of the chapter for the song at the end.

I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. I would really like to hear what you think of this chapter.

So without further delay, I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 16

Reach Out, I’ll Be There.

Now if you feel that you can't go on

Because all of your hope is gone,

And your life is filled with much confusion

Until happiness is just an illusion,

And your world around is crumblin' down;

Darling, reach out (come on girl, reach on out for me)

Reach out (reach out for me.)

I'll be there, with a love that will shelter you.

I'll be there, with a love that will see you through.

I'll be there to always see you through.

******************************

She yearned to touch him. Kneeling beside him, her hands hesitating above his head. The need to touch him intoxicated her, to feel his soft curls, the hardness of his bone and flesh, his warm breath on her skin. She needed to know him as real and alive under her fingertips. Whole. But she felt afraid to startle him out of his deep meditative state.

She spoke to him in a hushed tone not wanting to startle him. “Jamie, it’s me, Claire.”

Jamie lifted his head up slowly, not really sure what he is seeing. At first, he believes she is an illusion, an apparition conjured by his fatigued and distraught mind.  He blinks several times, clearing his vision. “Claire, is it truly ye? Sassen...” he looked up at her, unsure if he should use her pet name.

Claire saw how the night affected him, eyes swollen and red-rimmed, eyelashes damp with tears. 

 “Yes, it’s me your Sassenach,” she smiled, gently stroking his cheek feeling the soft scruff prickling under her touch. “I became worried sick when you didn’t come back.  I...I thought maybe you were hurt or lost or had an accident.  I had to find you. God, Jamie, don’t ever do that again to me,” she whimpered eyes glazing with tears threatening to escape their boundaries. 

Jamie struggled to rise from his recumbent position. His legs trembled and he labored to stand. They were stiff from disuse, cold from lying prone on the marble floor, and the remnants of his drunkenness hampered his progress. He looked like a newborn colt’s gangly first attempt to stand. Claire quickly moved to his side using her body to support him as he struggled to remain upright. After regaining his stability, he wrapped her tightly in his arms, pulling her close to his chest. “Claire.” Her name rippled off his tongue like the ruffling of sweet water flowing down a burn. 

Overwhelmed with emotion Claire began to sob. She clutched his jacket needing something to hold on to. 

He spoke tenderly to her, whispering comforting words in Gàidhlig into her hair.  “‘Tis alright a leannan. I’m here. Dinna be afraid.”

Tenderly he stroked her back comforting her as if she were a small child. Her weeping grew faint reducing itself to a quiet hiccuping sound. She looked up into his kind blue eyes and punched him in the chest. 

“Ow! What was that for?!” he demanded with a surprised look on his face.

“You scared me. I...I thought lost you. I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.” She trembled in his arms, “I thought you...” She hesitated, “When you didn’t come back, I thought it was because you didn’t want me anymore.” Claire buried her face into his chest nervous about his reaction.

“Not? Not want ye? For the love of God, woman, I want ye more than life itself. How could I no’ want ye? Yer the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Humph. Then why didn’t you come back?”

“Because I thought ye dinna want me.” He dropped his arms from around his beloved shifting his gaze to his shoes intently studying them as if something new and interesting happened to them.

 Turning away Jamie began to pace. His sound hand opened and closed into a fist. Anger and frustration pulsed through his veins. 

“I failed ye, Claire! Ye told me that yerself. Ye said I left ye there to fight him off, tae, tae defend yerself. And how do ye think that made me feel? Hmm?” he spat out angrily. “I kent I was wrong. ‘Tis bad enough that I kent it, but tae hear it from ye. By Christ, did ye need tae throw it in my face?” he fumed.  “Weel, after that I kent I was no’ man enough for ye.  Ye need someone better than me to care for ye. That...That ye deserve someone more capable than me as I couldna keep my word.” He stopped pacing, his back turned to her. “Ye ken tae a Highlander breaking a promise is a verra, verra serious thing. Did ye ken that? No, I dinna believe that ye do. ‘Tis a matter of honor and loyalty th...that yer word has value, meaning. That ye can be trusted. Christ, I couldna keep my promise to ye or to the damn wee birds!” Frustration and shame plagued him, his fingers erratically tapping against his thigh. 

He turned to face her, tears welling up from deep inside him running down his cheeks. “I’m nay good for ye. I came here and prayed for guidance. At the time I thought I was angry because ye dinna want tae have Frank arrested. Truth be told, it drives me mad that ye dinna.” His face was grim and taut with the thought of Frank escaping punishment.  “I understand why ye dinna want tae and I appreciate it. Not tae have the arrest record follow me for the rest of my professional life ‘tis a blessing. But, ye ken I woulda carried that weight for the rest of my life so ye could get justice.” He blew out a breath steadying himself. “Instead, what I found deep in my heart is that I am no’ man enough for ye. When ye needed me, I failed to protect ye as I swore tae do. I’m sorry Claire. Sae sorry for everything.” He turned and walked toward the exit leading back to the shelter. He had the appearance of a dejected man, shoulders slumped, head hanging low. “When I get back to Scotland, I’ll give in my resignation tae the hospital. I canna be yer partner anymore. Ye need someone ye can depend on. I’ll get my things and be out of yer life.”

“Go to him. Be with him. He needs you,” Brother Stan told her.

God Almighty, what have I done!? I’ve shattered this beautiful man, his beautiful soul. Do you see what your secrets have done Beauchamp? The damage you caused.

“JAMIE, WAIT.” Her voice echoed reverberating throughout the cavernous church waking the saints and angels to bear witness to her amende honorable before God and her man.

 Claire ran to him, blocking his way to the exit. She grabbed both arms, looked imploring up into his face, “Please Jamie, don’t go.”

“Lass, ye have a good heart. I ken ye feel the need tae forgive me. But I canna forgive myself for the dishonor I brought to ye, for being a disappointment tae ye. So if ye dinna mind,” Jamie’s hand went to break her hold on him.

“Please! Listen to me. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I haven’t been honest with you. I lied to you about Frank, about me, about our marriage. You need to hear the truth first. All of it. Please hear me out. Give me another chance.” She became frantic trying to make him understand, to listen to her. She took a deep breath having come to a decision that could possibly break her heart forever. “If after you listen, should you still want to leave then I’ll not stop you,” she bargained.

Jamie stopped struggling to escape her grasp on his arms. “Lass, what do ye mean ye lied tae me?” His lips drew taut in an angry thin line. The only thing that Jamie Fraser could not abide was a lie. “Ye lied to me about what?” he asked glaring at her.

Claire let out a breath she did not know she was holding. She rather risk his ire than have him reproach himself when he was blameless. 

“We need to sit. This is a long story. I only ask that you listen with all your heart and an open mind.”

The Scot looked at her quirking an eyebrow in question. “Alright let’s hear it then.”

Claire took him by the hand and led him to a pew. She looked up to the altar, uttered a silent prayer asking for strength to tell him the truth and to accept his ultimate decision.

Taking his hand in hers, she began her confession.

“Everything I told you about how Frank insinuated himself into Lamb and my life is true. He is a master manipulator. He convinced Lamb that he truly cared for me. His behavior could even be called gallant, respectful, courteous. But that all changed once we were married. He was jealous, and became abusive, especially when drunk.” 

She recounted the incident with poor Albert the young professor. “He had threatened Albert, and actually took a swing at him. Fortunately, because of Frank’s level of intoxication, his punch went wide completely missing him.”

She peaked at Jamie from under her lashes. His face remained unreadable.

“Frank grabbed my hand and we left the party. In the car park, he started yelling. He insinuated things, calling me a whore. Then he threatened to beat me.” She told him that was not the only time he had acted like that. There were other incidents, some that ended in violence toward an innocent but the cruelty directed toward her continually escalated.

“Frank is jealous of you and the claim he believes you have on me. He thinks I’m still his. When we divorced, he seized hold of my arm telling me.” Claire paused. She looked toward the chapel ceiling trying desperately to compose herself. She bit her bottom lip hard enabling the coppery taste of blood to fill her mouth. She straightened herself, squaring her shoulders, and looked deeply into Jamie’s calm blue eyes. “Frank said that the divorce meant nothing. He would never let me go. That I am his forever and any man who thought differently would end up being very sorry. He touched me to mark me hoping you would walk away thinking me his or tarnished.  What happened couldn’t have been avoided. He was hellbent on creating trouble.” She blew out a sigh, “I’m sorry for blaming you, Jamie. Neither you nor I could have stopped this from happening.”

When you feel lost and about to give up

'Cause your best just ain't good enough

And you feel the world has grown cold,

And you're drifting out all on your own,

And you need a hand to hold:

Darling, reach out (come on girl, reach out for me)

She continued with story after story. Stories about how he degraded her during her residency and fellowship. Implying the only reason she passed was because of his and Lamb’s influence. This only made Claire work harder to be recognized on her own merit. She became chief resident then chief fellow. She became a recipient of several prestigious awards for the research she did as a cardiac fellow. Despite this, Frank continued to claim her achievements were the result of his influence and not her excellence as a doctor.

Claire stopped talking. She raised her hands to her temples massaging the throbbing pain sitting there.

She resumed her tale continuing to pour her heart out to Jamie who sat expressionless and silent. Imperceptibly, his hand gravitated to hers which now rested in her lap. A thumb began to gently stroke her hand. His hand squeezed hers, supporting her, comforting her. Touching made the ordeal easier somehow. 

I can tell the way you hang your head,

You're without love and now you're afraid

And through your tears, you look around,

But there's no peace of mind to be found.

I know what you're thinkin',

You're alone now, no love of your own,

But darling, reach out (come on girl, reach out for me)

“Go on, lass. There’s more isn’t there?”

Claire bobbed her head up and down acknowledging his statement. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, she pressed on with her story. “You recall,” she said with a shaky voice, “I told you that the box of love letters from Frank’s girlfriends fell, opening, and I read them. I also told you that I confronted him and he admitted to all the affairs. I said I struck him and went back to Lamb.  Well, the truth  is that I did find a box of letters, I lied about the rest.” The penitent, took a deep breath, exhaled and began. “What did happen was the day Frank found out he did not make tenure, he came home drunk. He threw me against the door, slapped and punched me in the face. When he was done with that, he grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head down on the dresser, and then.” Claire paused steeling her courage, “And then he raped me. My face was bruised, my mouth and lips were bloody. There were ecchymoses under my eye, my arms and thighs.  I fought him, but he was too strong. After he left, I packed my things and fled to Lamb’s place. That’s when I found the letters after I pulled my suitcase out of the closet.” 

“He broke me. He. Broke. Me. I was never the same after that.” She kept her eyes on him watching for his reaction. 

Jamie said nothing. His muscles tensed, and she saw his hand close ever so slowly into a white-knuckled fist. His eyes grew dark like black swirling thunderheads ready to unleash their fury. His breathing grew deeper, faster. A guttural growl emanated from the farthest reaches of his chest vibrating through him. The veins in his neck distended as blood coursed through them. They looked like great snakes undulating as they filled and emptied with each hammering beat of his heart.

She didn’t know how long had she spoke. It could have been minutes or hours. But she told him everything leaving out nothing. As she finished her account, Claire admitted, “No one outside of Lamb and Lamb’s lawyer knew any of this as I never told another soul.”

Hearing the details of her nightmare flooded Jamie with so many emotions, anger for the pain she suffered. Admiration for her strength and resiliency. Love. His love for her only deepened. It had no limit; it had no end. She was a survivor. And she was his.

“Why did ye no’ tell me, Claire?”

Looking down at her hands, she whispered, “I didn’t want to tell you for fear of what you would think of me. Tainted, damaged, useless. That you would believe the things Frank said about me. That you couldn’t, wouldn’t see me.” She sat up straighter, turned and looked her lad in the face. “If this is too much for you Jamie, I understand. If you want to go, well there’s no hard feelings, just go.” She gave him a small smile and sat waiting. 

She had the desire to cry, but would not. To do so would be to continue Frank’s hold over her. To let him continue to own her. By telling Jamie the truth, it liberated her. The demon was cast out and struck down. The exorcism complete. Her eyes strayed toward the shrine of St. Michael. The Archangel was renowned for slaying the dragon. At this moment, Claire felt a kinship with the saint for tonight she slew her own. She would not let Frank possess her ever again. She finally won her freedom.

Reach out (reach out for me.)

Just look over your shoulder

I'll be there, to give you all the love you need,

And I'll be there, you can always depend on me.

It seemed like an interminable length of time before Jamie spoke, “Mo nighean donn, yer a braw lass, sae brave, sae strong. I love ye Claire, but ye shoulda told me,” he admonished her. “Ye shouldna be carrying this alone. I have a broad enough back to carry this with ye.” His arms came and wrapped around her, pulling her to his chest, enveloping her in his love.

“I dinna want ye to ever feel ye canna tell me something, mo chridhe. Ye need to reach out for me, come tae me. I’ll always be here for ye. Always.” Gently he placed a delicate kiss on her crown tugging her even closer to him.

Claire looked up into his kind blue eyes, feeling the love therein. “There is another reason that I didn’t want to tell you all of this. Fear of what you would do it you ever met Frank. I bloody did not want you to kill him, James Fraser. I am a terrible baker.”

His brow furrowed with a look of puzzlement running across his face. “Lass, I dinna take yer meaning. What in hell are ye goin’ on about?” He looked up and stared directly at the altar. His face turned bright red with the realization of where he was and mumbled a heartfelt, “Pardon.”

She looked at him with a smirk on her face and a laugh waiting to erupt from her lips. “I don’t think I could bake a cake with a saw in so you could escape from jail.” Her eyes danced with the light of merriment and joy. The lines of pain and stress so long part of her visage were smoothed away. She positively glowed.

Jamie swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he attempted to stifle his own laugh. He rested his chin on the top of her head, “A nighean,” he sighed and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Ye’re daft woman, ye ken? But, I love ye fine and that’s all about that.”

Claire nestled against his chest feeling safe and loved and relieved.

They sat there immersed in their own little sphere of happiness. Not speaking, not moving, just being.

“Claire? Lass?” I think it’s time we go.”

“Mmm, yes I think we should go too. I’ve had enough of Boston, Jamie. Take me home. Home to Scotland.” 

“Aye, Scotland,” he choked with emotion.

They walked together fingers interlaced toward the exit through the shelter.  Claire helped Jamie into his overcoat and placed his beanie on his head. She quickly prepared herself for a wintery blast as well. They found Brother Stan at his work, comforting all who needed it.

“Thank ye Brother for everything. I’ll never forget ye,” Jamie clasped the cleric’s hand warmly.

Claire leaned forward giving the clergyman a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you for looking after him.”

“Go with God, go in peace, go in love,” he wished the couple. 

“And,” winking at Jamie “don’t beat up any more trees, eh?”

With his head bowed, a grin on his face, Jamie responded, “Trust me,  Brother, they are safe from me.”

Claire took out her mobile ordered a car to take them to their next destination.

************

They arrived back at the hospital for one final check on Jamie’s hand. A confirmatory X-Ray revealed no new breaks just some new bone bruises. Dr. Nelson, visibly annoyed with his recalcitrant patient placed a brace over the injured hand immobilizing and protecting it from further damage.

“Dr. Fraser,” he reprimanded harshly, “You need to take better care of your hands. Unless of course, you don’t want to operate anymore,” he inquired raising a questioning eyebrow.  

Jamie, rather shamefaced replied, “Aye, I do. ‘Twas foolish and careless of me. It willna happen again. Thank ye for yer care, Dr. Nelson. Truly.”

Once again, they bid their farewells to the staff and hurriedly headed once more to the hotel.

 *********************************

The fatigue from the previous day dragged at their heels. Sleep though would remain elusive as preparations for their departure took precedence. Each surgeon took turns washing their faces and brushing their teeth hoping a modicum of cleanliness would keep their exhaustion at bay. 

Claire began the task of packing their suitcases while Jamie spent his time trying to find an earlier flight home.

He watched as Claire sorted their things methodically and neatly packing. Despite the smile on her face, he could see her desire to be away from here and safe in the embrace of Scotland.

As he dialed the airline he prayed, “God dinna let me fail her this time. I need tae get her away from here, from the memories and the pain. Please.”

“Good morning! Alba Airlines this is Ainslie. How may I assist ye?” chirped a feminine voice on the other end of the phone.

“Good morning tae ye. This is Dr. James Fraser and I’m wondering do ye have any available seats leaving today from Boston to Edinburgh, for two?” 

“One moment sir.” Jamie could hear the clicking of the keyboard as Ainslie typed finding their reservation information to leave Boston in three days; time. The representative hummed softly as she searched for any vacant seats.

“Dr. Fraser,” she said exuberantly, “It just so happens that a couple canceled their flight for today. That flight leaves at 9:50 PM. Would that be alright?”

“Aye, lass that would be fine.  Please make the reservation for Dr. James Fraser and Dr. Claire Beauchamp.” 

“Dinna worry Dr. Fraser, I will make all the necessary arrangements for ye and Dr. Beauchamp.”

“Thank ye kindly, lass.” 

“Sassenach, ‘tis all arranged. Our flight is at 9:50 PM.  ‘Tis a bit late, but at least we leave today. Alright?”

She comes and stands between his legs, wrapping her arms around his neck.  Slowly Claire bends and places a kiss to his cheek. “You’re a magician. How did you manage it?”

Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him resting his head on her abdomen, “‘Twas naught but a wee bit of luck.”

“Well, whatever you did, I’m glad of it,” she smiled tenderly at him.

He looked at her with hungry eyes, pulled her down to sit on his knee. “I love ye, mo chridhe, always.” 

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck pressed her forehead against his whispering, “And I you, forever.”

Jamie took in the face that was his heart. His lass’s face glowed in the soft light. Her eyes soft like a fine sherry, her skin like pearl, and her lips. Ah, her lips blushed like pink rosebuds, plump and sweet, begging to be kissed and kissed often. Slowly, his hand reached up cupping her cheek as his thumb traced her lips. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her, ravage her mouth with his. Possess her. But he couldn’t. Not after her revelations. He simply could not come to her like a brute blind with need. No. That would never do.

“Claire. Lass, I would. I’d like verra much to kiss ye. May I?”  

“Yes,” she whispered while nuzzling his cheek.

Their lips came together tentatively at first, just a mere touching. Claire moved to deepen the kiss.  Her lips parted and her tongue danced across his lips seeking entry. Jamie startled, then yielded to her request. Their tongues moved in a tantalizing rhythm of their own making swirling, tasting. Her hands tangled in the silken curls at his nape. His hand brushed across her back caressing her luxuriating in the feel of her body against his.  And suddenly he broke the kiss. He stared at her. Her face was flushed with passion, eyes smoldering, lips kiss swollen. 

She fisted his shirt, “I want you, now,” she whimpered.

Jamie rested his forehead against hers, “No, a nighean, no’ here in this place of heartache and sorrow. I dinna want ye tae recall our joining here to be tainted with the memories of what happened with Frank last night.” He paused, considering what he wanted to say next. “Ye deserve better my own. I need to love ye in a place that belongs only to us. A place of love. No’ a place where we try tae erase memories but a place where we make them.” He took her hand and kissed each of her knuckles,  “I need tae take my time so I can serve ye rightly. No’ like this,” his voice low and sultry. “We’ll have time when we return to Scotland. Then I swear I mean to make ye moan and weep, even if ye dinna wish tae. I mean tae make ye sigh and scream with the wanting. And at the last, tae cry out my name. Then and only then shall I know that I served ye well.”

Claire leaned forward bit the shell of his ear and murmured, “I’ll keep you to that promise, Jamie Fraser. Do not disappoint me.” 

She stood and noticed an errant sock on the floor. Bending all the way over to pick it up, she displayed, according to James Fraser, her finest asset and gave it a slight wiggle. Slowly the tease stood up sock in hand. She heard a small groan and mutterings in Gàidhlig. 

“Good,” she thought. “That should teach him not to trifle with her.”  

Turning her head around to look over her shoulder, she gave him her most coquettish looks, “I’m going to take a shower.” Claire walked toward the bathroom with an unmistakable sway to her hips. Her lover’s grumbling became louder.

Claire showered, towel-dried, wrapped her hair in a towel and dressed in her robe. She felt relaxed from the heat of the water. The warmth from the shower induced a feeling of calmness and bone-weary tiredness causing her to struggle to keep her eyes open.

How many hours had it been since she had a decent night’s sleep Claire wondered? Too many. She could not recall when she last had a full night’s sleep. But it really didn’t matter how long she had gone without sleep. She would gladly do it again and again and again. For him. She is the keeper of his heart and soul. Never again would she let harm come to him. Nothing else mattered only Jamie. She could not, would not let anything or anyone come between them. He was hers.  

Walking out of the bathroom, the bed looked enticing. It called to her seducing her with a magnetic force she was powerless to resist. Claire tugged on his shirt that she had napped in earlier along with fresh panties. Climbing onto the bed, she stretched out waiting for Jamie to join her after his shower.  The pull of slumber, however, was too great. Slowly her head began to slump forward only to jerk her back into wakefulness as she felt her head drop.

Jamie followed suit, still mumbling his irritation to himself as he entered the bathroom. He quickly showered succumbing to the peace and tranquility of his ablutions. He felt purified somehow.  The pain, tension, and worry were washed away and circling down the drain. He released himself from the stress of the past day and surrendered to his exhaustion. 

How long has it been since he was this tired, he wondered? Probably not since his medical internship. Shite, that was a long time ago and he thought he was feeling his age. I’m tae old tae be doing this sort of thing, he scolded himself. He looked up and thought about the Sassenach in the other room.  I may be too old for this, but she’s worth it. He chuckled to himself. Aye, I’d walk through the fires of hell and back for her. He knew he would willingly suffer more than a few sleepless nights for her because he loved her more than life itself.

He came out of the bathroom with the towel slung low over his hips. He rootled around in his suitcase finding his sleep pant. As he pulled them on he caught a glance of Claire sitting on the bed her head bobbing as she struggled to remain awake. Climbing into bed he drew her to him.

“Sassenach, we need to sleep awhile. Let me hold ye. Come, lass lay yer head down.” They lay together spoon fashion. Jamie wrapping one arm around her chest while the other lay across her abdomen. He felt the steady thrum of her heart becoming soothed by it. Claire snuggled closer, her arse nestled in his groin. She mumbled, “I love you.” 

“I love ye too, mo ghràdh.” They closed their eyes yielding to the narcotic of sleep.

A hazy winter’s afternoon light cast about the room. Early shadows crept up the walls. 

Jamie woke first. He was lying on his back and his Sassenach curled into his side, her head resting on his chest. She snored lightly as she slept. His hand came around moving her curls off her face allowing him to study her in repose. She looked relaxed.  The usual lines around her eyes and mouth were gone. She mumbled something incoherent and gave a wee chuckle. She was dreaming.  He hoped she was happy. He hoped she was dreaming of him and that he was making her happy. Placing a gentle kiss to her hair, he closed his eyes thinking just for a few minutes more.

The room was dark. The weak winter light had long gone. Claire’s eyes blinked adjusting to the dimness of the room. She became aware of Jamie’s slumbering form next to her, breathing gently, hands folded across his chest. He looked like one of the tomb figures she had seen during her travels with Lamb. All that was needed to complete this picture was a little dog asleep at his feet. 

She snuggled against him, inhaling his sleepy scent. Masculine. She exhaled contentedly and then saw the clock blinking angrily 5:01 PM. 

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, we have to be at the airport by 7:30 PM. 

“Wake up! Jamie! Wake up! We need to get ready to leave.”

Jamie became instantly awake, jumping out of the bed scanning the room for threats of danger. Seeing none, he turned his attention to Claire.

“What’s amiss lass?”

Claire was hopping around on one leg trying to shimmy into her jeans. “We need to leave for the airport soon. Don’t we need to take care of the bill? We didn’t even tell them we were leaving. We need to get a car. Jamie, why are you standing there looking at me like that? We need to hurry.”

He sat down heavily on the bed scrubbing his face with his hands. “Lass, dinna do that again. Ye scared me to death. I took care of everything while ye were in the shower. There is nae bill. I spoke with the manager about shortening our stay. He was no’ happy at first, but I convinced him otherwise. Then the wee mannie could no’ do enough. It was aye Dr. Fraser, of course, Dr. Fraser.” Jamie chortled to himself.

Claire gave him a side-long look. “Exactly what did you do to make him so, shall we say, agreeable?”

“Oh, no’ much,” Jamie replied with a broad smile on his lips. “I just insinuated that if word got around about what happened last night the publicity may no’ be in his favor, aye?” His cat-eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Jamie you didn’t!”

“I did.” he snorted. “The man was being a right arse.”

“You know I would never allow that to happen. It would be too embarrassing!”

“I ken it, but he doesna. And Padrick will pick us up at 6 P. M. to take us to the airport.”

“You devious…”

“I am.” With that, he fell backward onto the bed laughing until tears leaked out.

“I told ye Sassenach, I would take care of ye, did I no?” He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

“Yes, you did. You didn’t say how though.” She shakes her head. Claire came closer to him placing a soft kiss on his lips, “Ridiculous man.”

“But ye love me.?” It was both a statement and a question.

“Very much so.” 

They finished packing their bags, dressed quickly and went to the lobby to wait for Padrick.

Seeing Jamie, Pierre the maitre d’hotel surreptitiously approached him. “Dr. Fraser, if I might have a word with you? In private.” He grabbed Jamie by the coat sleeve pulling him into a small out of the way alcove where they would not be observed.  “I know the Madame did not wish a list of names who witnessed the umm, shall we say, the occurrence of last night. However, I took it upon myself to create such a list.” 

He handed Jamie a list of the patrons of the restaurant with statements of what they observed duly notarized. It also contained names and contact information should there be a need to testify on behalf of  Dr. Beauchamp.

“The Madame is such a lovely lady and the man un foutu de salaud,un fils d'une pute. He shall never step inside this restaurant again,” he growled.  “I am so sorry this happened to her. Would you keep this for her should she ever need it?” He pressed the envelope into Jamie’s hand.

Jamie overwhelmed from the gentleman’s kindness clasped his shoulder with gratitude. “Merci, mon Amie.” He took the envelope and placed inside his coat’s inner pocket.

“Le plaisir était pour moi, Monsieur.” Pierre bowed and left.

Claire waited impatiently for him in the lobby. Upon seeing him, she glared at him suspiciously, “Where were you?” She had the feeling he was up to something that he did not want her to know about.

Thinking quickly and not completely telling a lie, “I thanked Pierre for his assistance last night, Sassenach. He also assured me that the villain wouldna be allowed back in his establishment.” Jamie said that with no little satisfaction.  He liked the idea of Frank being ostracized from the brasserie.  It was some mark of justice.  

He clasped her chin raising her head up and brushed his lips across hers, “Come Sassenach, our car awaits.”

Padrick the ever-present chauffeur loaded their luggage into the boot and swiftly departed for the airport.

Jamie and Claire arrived at the airport making their way to the Alba Airline terminal. 

“‘Twill be good to be home, Sassanech, do ye no’ agree?”

“Yes, I do,” she sighed with relief at the prospect of leaving Boston.

They found seats in the waiting area and made themselves as comfortable as possible.

“Do ye remember when we left Edinburgh, lass, ye were busy staring at my arse? Did it live up to yer expectations, then?” he said smugly.

“If you must know,” she sat there contemplating. “Hmm, well I would say umm…”

“Fer Christ’s sake, Claire, is it or is it no???” He seemed rather annoyed that her answer was not immediately forthcoming. 

It seems that men even beautifully made men like Jamie, had body-image issues, not unlike women.

Claire looked at him eyes twinkling, “Did I offend you, Fraser? Yes, you have the finest arse I have ever seen or will ever want to see. Better?”

“Yes.” He looked very cross his lip jutting out like a petulant little boy who had been told he could not have a treat. Claire gave him a jab in the ribs and gave him a wry smile. They looked at each other, chins quivering and began to laugh. “I love ye, lass, ye ken it. But yer wicked in yer ways.”

The PA system crackled to life.

Flight 8389 Boston to Edinburgh International Airport now boarding at Gate 34. Please have yer boarding passes ready.

Home.

A/N:

Amende honorable -- was originally a mode of punishment in France which required the offender, barefoot and stripped to his shirt, and led into a church or auditory with a torch in his hand and a rope around his neck held by the public executioner, to beg pardon on his knees of his God, his king, and his country; now the term is used to denote a satisfactory apology or reparation. Amende honorable forbade revenge.

Un foutu de salaud,  -- fucking bastard

 Fils d'une pute. --  son of a whore   

Le plaisir était pour moi, Monsieur  --  The pleasure is all mine, sir.

The song: Reach Out (I’ll Be There) was performed by the Four Tops. 

Released: 1966

Songwriter(s): Holland–Dozier–Holland

Youtube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqFz7T5v3iU

[orions-nebula]

I’m Ready Now (Pt.2) - Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You don’t remember when you started falling in love with Steve. What you do know is that with each year that passed by you fell even more in love with him. Despite the years of friendship and special nights spent together, there were constant mixed signal tossed left and right which made you doubt. One day everything changes and you find yourself going through a major life altering moment.

Warnings: 1 curse words,  good amount of angst, a tiny bit of fluff? Talks about breaking down. Word count: 3,112

Prologue - Part 1

A/N: THANK YOU all so much for the likes, comments, and especially the re-blogs! It means the world to me! I will continue to tag you guys just in case my post isn’t appearing under the tags. (I’ll keep on trying though.)

And if you guys would like to be added to the tags please let me know! I will be more than happy to do so! 

I apologize for any mistakes, I will make any changes, I just wanted to get this out to you. I hope you guys enjoy part 2! :)       - The story takes place after the Winter Soldier and Age of Ultron, but minus Civil War. Hope that helps.

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

Five months later you found yourself standing in an empty alleyway, behind an abandoned office, staring at the one an only Bucky Barnes.

“You know he won’t stop looking for you, right.”

“I know.”

“I tried telling him that you still need time. Time to rediscover yourself if you will.”

“He’s stubborn.”

“Oh, I know.” You shook your head fondly. “You should at least talk to him, give him something. Anything will do. He, he just needs some peace of mind.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” You pushed, but Bucky stayed silent.

“Bu- can I call you Bucky? Or do you prefer James?”

“Bucky is fine.”

“If you really need time and space, I get that. I really do, but Steve won’t. He won’t rest until he knows you’re safe. Until he can talk to you.”

“M’not ready. I just-

“(Y/N) do you copy?” Bucky stiffened as he heard Steve over the comms. You pressed your finger to your ear while keeping an eye on Bucky.

“I do.” Bucky looked at you with desperation in his eyes and started shaking his head.

“Where are you? I lost track of Bucky! Do you see him? I saw him running in your direction.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry Steve, I- I lost track of him. I’ll meet you at our rendezv-”

“No! Stay put! I’ll catch up with you, maybe we can still find him.”

“Roger that Rogers.”

You put your face in your hands, shaking your head. “He will be here any moment. You should go while you still can.”

“Why. Why are you doing this for me?” Bucky asked you.

“Because… because if he wants to have his best fri- his brother back, you need to be ready. And you can’t exactly focus on yourself if you’re constantly being chased.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, trying to read you.

“You like him, don’t you?” Bucky asked, showing hints of a tiny smile. You tried your best to hold back the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Look, the way I see it, the faster you heal the sooner you’ll return to Steve.”

“(Y/N)!” You heard Steve shout but didn’t see him anywhere. You turned back to Bucky.

“Please don’t tell him we talked.” 

“I won’t, but you have to promise to reach out to him as soon as you’re ready.” Bucky simply nodded. “Now, go.”

“Thank you… (Y/N).” With that Bucky took off at an impressing speed, faster than you have ever seen Steve run.

“(Y/N)! There you are! Come on let’s go.” You didn’t even get the chance to argue before Steve grabbed your wrist and basically dragged you through the streets of Romania.

He kept running for a good three minutes and you were pretty sure he didn’t realize that he was still holding on to your hand.

“Steve.” You panted, your lungs burning and your wrist sore, but you don’t think he heard you so you tried again.

“Steve!” Still no response from him.

“STEVE!” You shouted, ripping yourself from his grasp.

Steve turned to look at you, taking in your current state. Face bright red from the exertion, your hair was sticking to your forehead from the sweat, and your hand over your chest as you took in deep breaths trying to regulate your heart.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, I just got caught up with trying to find Bucky and,” Steve swallowed hard, starting to feel guilty for forcing you to keep up with him knowing that you weren’t super soldier like him.

“We lost him… again. Dammit! I… I lost him,” Steve murmured as he shook away the tears. You felt your heart twist knowing you were the reason he felt so distraught, but you also knew Bucky needed time.

“Hey, don’t give up now,” you whispered encouragingly, “he just needs time. Time to readjust and figure himself out.”

“How can you be so sure? What if he hates me and that’s the reason he’s running away?” He swallowed painfully.

“Okay, first of all, why would he hate you?”

“Cause I couldn’t save him from HYDRA.”

“I am a a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t have saved you if he hated you Steve.” You took a deep breath, using the time to collect your thoughts, in hopes to gently explain the situation to Steve.

“I read the files, you know, on the ‘Winter Soldier.’ From what I read, it’s a lot Steve. Too much. I would run away too. You have to understand that it’s a lot for him to handle at the moment. He doesn’t know who to trust and-”

“He can trust me! Why doesn’t he trust me?” Steve exclaimed as more tears welled up in his eyes.

You reached out to him and gently started rubbing his back in comfort.

“Stevie, he’s been through so much. He doesn’t remember anything. He’s been tortured, his memories scrambled and erased. He hasn’t seen the real world nor has he interacted with real human beings who don’t have some villainous master plan up their sleeve. He most likely wants to rediscover himself without anyone interfering.”

When he didn’t look up at you and just kept quiet you decided to continue.

“Steve, it will be okay. I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” He asked you as a tear streamed down his cheek.

“I just know it. I do. Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“The trust me when I say he will come around. Now come on.”

Steve nodded and decided it was best to head back to the Avenger’s Jet you left near the forest. You both turned around started walking back where you came from. You looked up at Steve, despite the somber look he had, he still looked so handsome.

How had you ignored it for so long? He was true beauty in the purest form. Plump lips that you would love to kiss and sparkling eyes where you wouldn’t mind getting lost in. Also, why did he have better eyelashes then you? What you wouldn’t do to have his eyelashes, but you wouldn’t also do to hold him, to have your hand against his jaw. To have him lean in your touch. To run your hands through his soft hair, as you pulled him close to you in a warm and loving embrace.

Bucky was right, you did like him. More than liked him, but you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself. You didn’t think you were ready. Plus, he had never shown any signs of liking you.

You chose to look away before he caught you staring and opted to look at the ground instead, when something caught your attention.

You walked towards an empty wooden crate where you saw a folded piece of paper, too clean, almost untouched, which only meant one thing.

Steve watched you as you trailed to the left picking up a white piece of paper, your eyebrows scrunching in confusion before realization washed over your eyes.

“Steve… I think Bucky left this behind after we ran after him.” You turned to him, handing him the piece of paper

Steve grabbed it with a slight tremor in his hand and began reading it.

Blonde man. Grant? Maybe.

Steve. Enemy?

Friend. When? Where?

I had another dream. The blonde man, Steve, happens to be there too, but there was a woman this time. She was real pretty too. Dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes, just like Steve’s. Here name was Savannah. Sylvia. Sofia? No.

She keeps on reappearing in my dreams. Always gives me food, hot chocolate, hugs. Warmth.  Yells at Steve. Same thing. “Steve Grant Rogers, when will you stop this? You can’t keep getting into fights sweetie. It’s no good for you.” Sierra?

Except last night, when she appeared in my dreams again, in white like an angel. This time Sara something different. “Thank you, Bucky. Thank you for keeping my boy safe.” She’s been appearing more and more after I saved the man’s life. Sara.

Sarah. Steve. Home.

Time. I need time.

By the time Steve finished reading he started shaking, trying to hold in the sobs that threaten to break him apart.

“It’s a sign. It’s his way of telling us he’s not ready yet. He left this for us.”

“H-how do you k-know?” Steve questioned not caring that his voice kept on cracking with emotion.  

“The paper is clean with no dirt, rips, water spots, or sign of deterioration, meaning it couldn’t have been there more than a couple of hours. It rained yesterday and this morning it was humid, but it cleared up later in the day, so it must have been put here not too long ago.”

You read the note again and started to point at the paper as you explained to Steve what you thought.

“It’s clear that he’s trying to piece his memories back together. At first, it’s simple, short, but you can tell that he’s starting to remember. He’s trying to piece things together. The woman, I’m assuming she was your mother?”

“Yeah. She was.”

“With or without the H?”

“H?”

“This memory that he wrote, he talks about your mother. The first time he tried to remember her name he wrote down a name that begins with the letter S. Savannah. Too long, too many letters, but it if you look at it,” you start pointing to the name, “it starts with an S and ends with an H. The next few names start to get shorter in length, so to speak, but the sounds they create are all wrong. Until he writes Sierra. He’s getting closer, but it’s still wrong because he scratched it off just like the other names.

It’s not until he has a different dream about her. This must have triggered something in him. Something positive, because now he writes the name Sara, and he doesn’t scratch if off, and he write her name again. And I think he finally pieced more memories together, because he writes Sarah with an H, followed by your name. So, he knows it’s either with or without an H, I’m assuming an H?”

When you looked up at Steve you noticed that he was staring at you intently.

“I’m sorry I know I ramble a lo-”

“No! Sorry, I mean no, you don’t ramble. And it is with an H.” Steve finished quietly. Steve saw the look in your eyes and waited for you to continue.

“He wrote this entry a while ago, but he must have recently added to it. He must have added ‘Time. I need time,’ just now because the ink is smudged and a darker color. Don’t you see Steve!”

Steve just kept staring at you like you were the stars that would guide him home. Of course, you didn’t notice too caught up in the fact that Bucky had actually left something for Steve.

“He left this for you! He knows you’re looking for him, he knows who you are! He just needs time. If he didn’t plan on ever seeing you again, he wouldn’t have left this for you! He wouldn’t have written ‘Home!’ This means he will find you when he’s ready because he knows you’re his home.”

After hearing your words Steve couldn’t hold in anymore and broke down. He looked at you and not taking it anymore pulled you in. He hugged you, holding on to you, afraid as if he let you go you would disappear like Bucky.

His hug took you by surprise but once you reacted you wrapped your arms around his waist. You did your best to hold him tight and let him know you were there for him, to give him some form of comfort and peace.

You felt him sink to the floor but didn’t let him go, on the contrary you held him closer to you. The more you held onto him and the stronger your embrace became the more he shook with sobs. You felt the tears well up and you desperately tried blinking them away, but you couldn’t them back when he let out whimper, which then turned into broken cries.

“It’s okay Stevie, it’s okay. Just let it all out.”

You don’t know how long you sat there with him but you didn’t mind. You told yourself you would be there for him and you wanted to keep that promise.

More time passed before Steve, finally calmed down. He would sniffle from time to time but he was calmer now.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I didn’t mean to overste-”

“You didn’t and I’m glad you trust me enough to let yourself go. I mean, to let out all your emotions.” You grabbed his face, gently wiping the tears from his face. You gave him a soft smile and leaned in to peck his forehead.

“Never apologize for letting go of what you have been bottling up inside you. It’s not healthy. And ‘it’s okay to not be okay.’ It’s okay to be upset or angry or whichever feeling you’re feeling. You’re allowed to feel the way you do and no one should invalidate that. We all have things that make us cry, no matter how big or small. And you definitely had every right to do so. Like I said, I’m just glad you trust me enough to do so in front of me.”

“God, you are just- you’re so- you’re amazing. You know that?”

“I didn’t know, but you can tell me again.” You tried to joke, which worked, causing Steve to let out a small laugh.

“Well you are more than amazing and I can’t thank you enough. I mean it (Y/N). You didn’t have to, but you’ve been helping me find Bucky for the last couple of months. You’ve dropped everything on the day that I would ask for your help and I don’t know what I would have done without your support. So, thank you.”

You felt your heart beat uncontrollably and you hoped he didn’t hear it. You knew he was grateful to have your support as a friend but how you wished he meant it as more than a friend.

“You don’t have to thank me Steve. I hope you know that I will always be here for you.” He smiled at you, that beautiful smile that as of late has started to give you butterflies.

“If I didn’t know before I definitely do now.”

You started at each other for a while before he pulled you in for another hug. Once he pulled away, he grabbed your hand and continued making your way back.

“Steve?”

“Yeah doll?” You bit your lip in hopes to hide the blush and smile that threaten to form. This was the first time he called you doll and it made you giddy.

“Um, I was wondering, since we’re in Europe already, if we can we stop by Paris before heading back? There’s this great bakery I know! I was thinking we could grab a couple of pastries and enjoy them over at Jardin Villemin?”

Steve looked down at you and asked himself. How could he ever say no to you? How could he ever say no to the woman with the beautiful smile. The woman whose eyes are brighter than any constellation he’s ever seen, and whose heart is full of compassion and love. And without knowing it yet, the woman who makes his life brighter, better.

“Anything you want doll.” You grinned at him, excited to spend some time in Paris with Steve.

  Steve was laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It had been a week since the incident in Romania and Steve was left feeling confused. This wasn’t the first time but it was the first time he decided to acknowledge it.

You’re sweet and caring personality definitely took him by surprise. You had this energy, the way you carried yourself. You just radiated warmth. You were always so willing to help and you always did it with a smile on your face. You were a true optimist, always trying to lighten up any situation.

You were motherly towards Wanda and Peter. You always watched out for Tony, always made sure he was eating and sleeping. You made sure Natasha felt loved and appreciated, made sure she felt like the most virtuous woman in the world.

Steve knew that you were one of a kind, but what he wasn’t so sure of was the way you made him feel. Did he actually like you or did he appreciate the time he spent with you? Was it you that made his heart race or was it the situation you two always seemed to find yourselves in? Which were missions.

Steve wasn’t so sure. What he did know was that you made him feel different. You made him feel like he was cared for, like someone finally noticed him. With you he didn’t have to pretended everything was okay, didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t lost. With you he could be vulnerable.

Steve valued you, he truly did. He just didn’t know how yet, whether it was as a teammate, a friend or something else. When did you start making him feel this way? When had you wormed his way into his thoughts?

Sure, you were gorgeous and there were probably many men who thought about you, but you were more than a pretty face. You had courage, strength, determination, and most importantly, you were resilient.

What you had done for him last week, they way you held him and brought him hope, it made his heart burst with gratitude. No one had ever done that for him, not even Natasha who he’s very close with. Then again, he never opened up to her the way he had with you.

Steve grunts in frustration, not knowing how to feel about you, but knowing enough to do something about it. He grabs his phone from his night stand and pulls up your contact.

‘Hey doll. Are you busy tomorrow night?’

‘Hey! I’m free after 7pm. Why you ask?’

Steve debated for a few seconds but quickly started typing before he lost his nerve.

‘Want to go out for dinner? My treat.’

‘Yeah, I would like that. Can we leave at 7:30 tho? I would need to get ready.’

‘7:30 it is.’

‘Awesome! I’ll see you then! Good night Steve!’

‘Good night doll. Sweet dreams. 😊’

He put his phone on his night stand and closed his eyes, smiling as he thought about tomorrow night.

---------------------------------------------------------- TAGS: @sourpatchspinster @crist1216 @deadlymistress24 @foulfashionstreetstylekitty @elena-chat @vougueworthy-barnes @agirlwhoneedalittlelovingtonight @donner5822 @brokenrogerz @petlaufeyson @marisathewonder @steve-barry-damon-logan @tfandtws @clogger101 @insertwittystatement-here @unapologeticallymimi @strangelycami @jessyballet @miovanci @overpretty @capcapcapsicle @queenie70 @iamwarrenspeace @wisesharkpersonazonk @shannon124 @captainamericathot @lallyj11 @lucyshea @kazumilein @milea @loudmoviesondeanwinchester @darcytown @iheartsebastianstan @supernaturallover2002 @novaya-model @kawairinrin @lovely-geek @ballerinafairyprincess @swatson06 @haley24689 @hobisgenie @jules-1999 @sicparvismagnaxi @okcowboys84 @fisherbrookphotos @myforeveryoungblog @pixievengeance97 @fancyharry​ @laic2299​ @blackcatfamilia​ @littlechillies​ @delicioussteverogers​ @12345nothing42​ @goblinshark1e​ @janieavalos​ @weebid @linkingdolas @meagaroni123​ @ashwarren32​ @shawdowypaintermughero @awk-sauced @killemallcherrypie @floralandspice​ @fofoggo​ @josiemara​ @readermia​ @bornadragon @isthisreallynecessary2 @darkavenge-t​ 

[kdtheghostwriter]

SNK 4-Pack

Just to avoid any confusion, yup, it’s just what it says on the tin. I’ve gathered my thoughts on four chapters here. A combination of IRL obligations, lifestyle and equipment changes all of which has been more or less rectified. For now lol. To those who reached in the past months, I appreciate the thought. Apologies for keeping you waiting. Accept this humble offering and enjoy the new chapter release.

123 - Turn Me Loose

We’re in a very distressing place both in-story and IRL. So here:

It’s Mikasa’s first taste of ice cream. Feel better? Cool. Now let’s talk about the end of the world, pls.

 I’ll get the obvious out of the way first. Just what did you think The Usurper meant when he said [checks notes] “I’m going to put an end to this world?” This isn’t Sword Art Online. He wasn’t talking about a virtual world. It’s closer to the SpongeBob bit where Squidward runs into his place of work to exclaim that robots have taken over the world, before he clarifies “Our world!” Paradis was merely a blip on the radar before the Royal Family lost the Coordinate. It was fun at first to rattle their cage and watch them war with eachother. Now the war is about to leave the shores of the Island and no one is laughing.

I don’t have much to say about this development in particular because I predicted it nearly one year ago. No one wanted to hear it, but I said to any ear that listened: if Eren is going to play the Bad Guy, he needs to be the Bad Guy. You can go back and read it. I said Eren Jaeger will be the new villain of the story. Well, there’s a word we use for the person who wants to exterminate all life on Earth and it’s not Samaritan.

But for every villain, a foil must rise. Reiner is the easy choice here. Not the wrong one, but easy and predictable. Eren and Reiner have been intersecting since the 104th squad’s first expedition. When Eren could have hidden during Marley’s 11th hour raid of Paradis, he chose to confront Reiner and expose himself for the sake of a fight he knew he would not lose. This is why I don’t have Reiner in this role. Reiner’s role is what we all thought Eren’s was up until Chapter 120 or so. He is Lady Fate’s whipping boy. Beating him down again and again while calling him and dummy for trying to resist against his lot in life. If Reiner steps to Eren this time, it will be more than just humiliation awaiting him. Yes, it’s still Mikasa. I doubt Eren’s plan (whatever the full scope of it is) can even be stopped but if it can she is the one to do it. It can only help that she has the God of Destruction on her side.

 Getting ahead of myself, though. We have the famous confrontation to speak on. You know the one.

I understand the sentiment by Eren here but he was never going to get an accurate answer. At least not immediately. The poor girl is shocked. She’s been interrogated time and again about her loyalty to Eren and what exactly it means. The one person who has never questioned her further is the man himself. One can imagine how long he’s sat on this inquiry. He knew what he had to do. No answer she gave would have diverted his path, but maybe he wanted one last thing to feel good about before he doomed the world.

Either way, the team runs in to interrupt them like some teen movie and they all proceed to get drunk with the family of the Middle Eastern boy they aided earlier. Ever since this type of story analysis was popularized online (and especially on YouTube) people have fallen into the habit of using the word “filler” without knowing what the word means.

 Because we are consuming this series week by week and because Eren’s descent into arch-villainy has lasted well over a year at this point this current disaster really does feel like it would in real life. A long, brutal decline with only one outcome and no way to stop it. This chapter was a palette cleanser after months of endless despair. If you can remember there was indeed a time where everyone was friends and Eren wasn’t trying to KILL THE WORLD. This chapter was a reminder of that. The faintest light shines brightest in total darkness. That light is what Mikasa is doing her best to hold onto.

  124 - All Falls Down

The most interesting part of this chapter, which is largely set-up, is Jean’s assessment of the situation from his perch on a rooftop. It’s muted and resolute. The usual emotion is missing entirely. The fire is gone as he accepts the world’s creeping fate. The story’s most morally consistent character is seen trying to work out the thought process behind ending the world. They’re our enemies. They were going to attack us eventually. We were sitting ducks. Maybe this was always going to happen. His last observation is less rhetorical. In order to protect his friends, Eren has sacrificed the entire world. This includes the Subjects of Ymir who all received Eren’s message from the last chapter.

No time to contemplate that horror with the fresh hell of Zeke’s titanized victims running wild in Shiganshina which sounds mighty familiar. There’s a poignant scene that follows of the 104th cutting down their fellow soldiers, many of whom helped train them. It shows how far they’ve come and the overall affect their adventures have had on them that they are able to destroy their comrades without hesitation.

Ah! But this is SnK after all. The horrors are often double stacked. The time has come to decide which titan Falco gets fed to. Before anyone can note what terrible timing this is with a horde of Titans destroying the village around them, Connie makes an executive decision to nab the unconscious boy and feed him to his stranded Titan mother in his hometown.

Of course, no one believed at the time that Connie would be able to go through with such and act especially on someone as sweet and naïve as Falco, but it really drives home the not-so-quiet desperation of these characters and how each of them reacts to it. Mikasa and Jean are both trying to keep a level head. Armin isn’t in hysterics by any means but is missing his usual confidence. Connie, having already lost his best friend and half his squad is the first to let the despair of the situation get to him. It’s the same reason Armin volunteers to go after him. No it won’t solve any of their macro problems but reconciling with young Gabi and feeling like a hero again can at least make you feel useful in the face of your best friend trampling the world underfoot.

 The reveal of Annie at the very end of this chapter after more than half a decade gone is classic Isayama melodrama and it’s one of the reasons that, despite monthly leaks, Shingeki no Kyojin is still a worldwide best-selling phenomenon. I don’t have much else to say about it other than having her gasping for air like a fish out of water after being encased in a Disney Princess Prison was a nice choice. One would have to think that seeing Annie again would have some sort of affect on Eren even in his current Kaiju state. Eh, I’m getting ahead of myself though.

 Stray Thoughts

- Jean continues to be my favorite character in the story. With Pixis gone and Hange out of action, he’s the easy choice as acting Commander. Leading his own squad and the neighboring soldiers into battle against the rampaging Titans is heroism that stands out even more after sitting through months of the Jaeger Brothers’ power play.

- Shadis returning to aid the cadets that beat him down at Floch’s behest is all you need to know about his character. He’s a gruff man and his stint as the Survey Corps Commander left him emotionally busted. However, he never once forgot why he started doing this in the first place. He can’t save the world but he can save these kids, dammit.

- All Titan hardening has been rendered inert by Founder Ymir throwing off her chains. This includes Reiner who reveals to Gabi that his Titan’s armor fell off as the walls came down. Nothing in SnK happens on accident so we’ll put a pin by this and see where it goes.

- Reiner explains to a distraught Gabi, who is looking for Falco, that Eren is extra unstoppable because with full control of the Founder he now has full control of all Eldians. One has to wonder if the Ackerman Loophole is still in effect.

- Gabi used the same gun that started The Rumbling to save Kaya from a 2m Titan. Alright, jokes aside, I can put on my critical hat and say that this callback to Sasha was a bit ham-fisted and you could have found a less visceral way for Gabi to realize the error of her ways. (Avatar: The Last Airbender will always hold the title for this trope.) All that can be true and I still like Gabi showing some agency here. Being insistent on finding Falco and helping him is pretty key development imo. He’s the main reason she’s still alive.

125 - The Next Step

Annie is me when I write exposition. I know you think it’s “boring” and “filler” or whatever but I don’t care! Shut up and learn something for once, eh?

Anyway.

Annie and Hitch have catching up to do. I was about to say they were former roommates but as noted above, Hitch spent four years watching over the captive soldier. Now that she’s free and the world is ending she sees no reason to hold on to her backstory any longer. Annie was adopted and the man who trained her was also the man who raised her. It wasn’t until she was about to set sail for Paradis that he showed any remorse for her indoctrination. Even still, Annie never forgot his words and has been trying to get back to him as soon as she can by any means she can.

Taking off my critic hat I have to wonder what her mindset was locking herself away in that crystal. Obviously if she hadn’t the outcome is almost certainly being devoured by Eren or someone else as they were but a few short months away from learning the truth behind Titan Succession. Still, there’s no guarantee that she ever escapes at all. I was half convinced that Isayama was working toward the biggest troll job in the history of fiction by ending the story with Annie still in captivity. He didn’t though, so we have the rest of the narrative to work out what that means.

Sorta like these two.

Eh, he’s not wrong but his frustration is misdirected here. Mikasa asked a very valid question about what to do about the World Killer that happens to be their (former?) best friend. Mikasa is the only one in the group asking this question because she’s the only one that no longer id’s Eren as the hero of Stohess. Connie is a minor distraction especially compared to the army of Colossals; Armin knows this too but Connie is a distraction from the creeping dread that Eren is now unstoppable.

And Mikasa’s face here…oof. That’s two of her soon-dead Titan Bros who have yelled at her today. Should it hurt more? Probably but she is so far past hurt feelings at this point. She’s a soldier and she has work to do. Asking for a directive isn’t something to get triggered by but Armin is at his breaking point here. The little things that add up to make your shit sandwich 12 feet high. And so we hope that his side quest brings him peace.

I love this character.

He never once falters in his moral fiber. The depression keeps him from recognizing this but he is indeed special in his own way. After all is said and done that’s really all that can be expected of us. Shadis, ever the mentor tells his kids not to be heroes. Really, this quote can be transplanted to our current political situation IRL. There’s a lot of things wrong with the current system and we’d all like to make it better but we still have work and school and various other obligations to deal with and those don’t go away because we want to “make a difference.” The time will come to make your voice heard. Be ready when it happens, not before.

I do like how Shadis basically accepts his fate as a sacrifice to Floch’s faction as his only other option with the other heads of military dead are going on the run like Solid Snake and he is not about that life. He would rather take the rest of his lumps and be done with it.

This Fucking Guy

This is peak Lord of the Flies shit. Society has dissolved and the chain of command has been broken so just do whatever, dude! Think about what Armin said before. History always repeats itself without the proper prevention. The best prevention, of course, being education. Floch is the best example of why eliminating one side does not truly extinguish conflict. Even at the start we see various Shiganshina residents rightfully blaming Eren for his role in the destruction caused by the walls coming down.

The only way to reach consensus is with terror. We got a mere preview when Zackley got TNT’d so many moons ago. Now we see Floch Forster doing his best Neegan impression, splattering a volunteer’s brains across the floor. I won’t repost it but that panel is probably up there with Ymir’s cannibalization for most visceral of the story. Brutal in its suddenness, it almost becomes a smash cut. After so much death and destruction this act of violence isn’t lost in the pages because of how much grislier the executions are rendered. The intimacy of a human ending another’s life without the aid of a fleshy mech. I digress, though. Floch must be stopped or the future of Paradis is sealed, Rumbling or not.

 Stray Thoughts

- “I’ll tell Connie! That even as a Titan overturned on her back, his mom is fine as she is!” My goodness this story is dark.

- I have been mercifully absent from fandom developments, so I have no idea if people are still as turnt about the Gabi character as they were when I left. With that said, it’s fun to see some good logical development, just like every adult fan of this series predicted there would be.

- Again, is Kaya being saved by Gabi in a direct parallel to Sasha doing the same a bit on the nose? Quite so. It isn’t good or bad and, honestly, judging by some meta I’ve seen in the past I don’t blame any author for erring on the side of the obvious.

- Have I said this next one before? Who knows? Reviving Erwin on that rooftop instead of Armin wouldn’t have changed much besides short-term strategy. Once the Usurper started down the Dark Path even Commander Handsome would be powerless to stop him.

  126 - Hold the Line

Levi and Hange are on the lamb in the Forest of Big Ass Trees and the set up for this detour is a solid string of pages with Hange building shelter, tending to Levi’s wounds and picking off the new Survey Corps members that have been sent by Floch to find them be cause War is Hell.

This opening stanza is good because it highlights one of my favorite aspects of this character: their resourcefulness. First impressions being what they are lead people to take a throwaway joke about Hange keeping a pet Titan and let it inform one-note headcanons of their entire character. It shouldn’t be said but I will anyway. Hange is a clinical genius with a sharp wit in compliment. Their best skill is problem solving which would explain partially why they work so well with Armin. However, their particular thought process makes the kind of executive planning required from a Commander extremely challenging. Hange is better at devising a plan then receiving the instructions necessary to carry it out, if that makes sense.

Isayama, per usual, doesn’t spend the whole chapter on backtracking. He could have maybe but we do still have a story to get through. Isayama is a good author to study for improving your exposition. He conveys so much information with so little real estate. I still struggle and I’ve been at this for years.

I digress, though. Now we have Theo Magath lifting his gun to a crippled Levi in order to cope with the fact that he is A) stranded and B) not even slightly in control of this hopeless situation. So he listens and it turns out all four of these folk want the same thing, which is Zeke’s head on a platter. A very popular menu item to be fair.

For the uninformed here I am a fan of good dark comedy. This panel right here had me howling. As predicted by [checks notes] everybody, Connie did not have the gumption to callously lead this innocent child to their death. In one last effort to preserve his own conscience he explains that his Titanized mother who has been stranded for four years needs to be cleaned. Like you do. Every little detail eight down to his face when he thinks Falco has him made is so well done.

Of course, Armin and Gabi show up just in time. Armin, still haunted by Levi’s choice to save him, makes a bet on Connie’s bond with his squad that he did not seem overly confident in being correct on. Can’t truly call yourself a 104th alum until you’ve accepted your own untimely death.

 Skipping ahead a bit now. Floch is very busy being The Worst and if there hasn’t been a better collection of panels to illustrate the moral of the story. Yelena and Onyankapon have been lined up and are set to be publicly executed for their “crimes” against Eldia. The notable bit here for me is the way Isayama depicted the spectators. The have gnarled, twisted visages, some of them literally frothing at the mouth. You see, because extremist nationalism is bad and racism makes you ugly in every sense of the word.

Jean is tasked with gunning down Onyankapon but fires four rounds into the ground instead. This begins a series of Hashtag Machinations that will no doubt become clearer as the story unfolds. Jean and the two POWs escape in the Cart Titan’s mouth and the rest of the 104th leaves to collect Reiner and try to (somehow) stop Eren.

They had to try. Even at the cost of their own security it is difficult to agree with mass genocide. Having Annie on the team will be interesting as she and Eren were close. What’s left for me to wonder is how they plan to reach Eren, physically or otherwise, while he’s like…that. Every month more questions for each answer but after a decade you get used to it.

 Stray Thoughts

- Pieck’s surname is Finger? Or is this some Hange headcanon?

- We know Isayama is a big GoT fan. Apologies if this take has appeared elsewhere but an Ackerman keeping their promise seems to be his version of a Lannister paying their debt.

- Years after his death, the spirit of Erwin lives on in these characters. For some, it inspires strength; for others, only guilt.

- I’ve gone back to the interaction between Mikasa and Louise several times to try and get between the lines. Mikasa asking for her scarf back seems self-explanatory since it’s hers but Eren telling the girl to “throw it away” intrigues me. Seems to me that of all the things he had to give up to walk this path that his relationship with Mikasa is what he mourned the most in that cell.

- Always a good time to see Jean being a clever boy.

- Hange/Pieck banter is not something I knew I needed until I read this chapter.

- Hange’s fierce protectiveness of Levi makes more sense when you realize that these two are the only ones left of their original squad. The veterans of the military have all been cleared out, some more violently than others.

- It’s all but stated outright that Ackermans are part Titan. Goes a long way to explain their freakish strength and athleticism and their durability. Evidenced by the fact that Levi was apparently further from death than Zeke after the latter blew them both up.

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

I would love another Giorno yandere post! If you can do love bits and making out then that would be awesome! Maybe a childhood friend who moved away and meets him again when he is a Don? I also love the way you write and I am excited to read what you come up with for any request you get and write for. Have a great day!

Ooh Pbftfbt Thank You and - I just saw this, Don’t mind me haha…It’s a definite  done deal so let’s start this thing! Oh and don’t mind the formatting guess this is a scenario thing, kind of devolved from headcanons into a little story on accident.

Yandere! Don! Giorno Giovanna /childhood friend (Scenario/a few started headcanons) 

-Giorno would likely be very obsessive if you had anything to do with his awful childhood

- His charisma would come off very strongly in a sweet sickly way

-If you’re in Naples you’re likely staying there if he’s there

 Little hope was left for the young Giorno Giovanna. A neglectful mother who spent her free time partying, and an abusive father at home. Bullying from neighborhood kids, it was a hellish scenario for a young boy. Safe to say these events made him think very lowly of himself.

He was slightly surprised when someone didn’t act that way. You. Another neighbor didn’t swing at him in discontent, nor sneer in mockery. No, you were eager for a friendship. Was he not scum to you? He didn’t quite understand at first.

  You didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t talk much, rather you’d try your best and ask about things nearby. You’d point out you liked the color of the ocean, a specific species of flower that a person had been growing, or a peculiarly shaped rock you found messing around on the sidewalk. It seemed something fit for someone younger but he found himself to enjoy it oddly enough.

  Much so it became something that made his heart flutter with happiness. Each and every time he was kicked to the ground, beaten by his father, or bullied he’d think of those moments you’d play with him, or give him a little trinket.

  Though normalcy seemed short lived after those precious weeks.

 He found your mother one day looking around for you frantically. He offered to help since he was around you the most. Yet when he and your mother did find you it…was horrific. The passion in your mother’s eyes as she screamed and came to grab your frail and battered form off the ground. Your hair had been cut by scissors, blood was sleeping down several places on your body.

 Her profuse cursing was drowned out by his rapidly beating heart. Why would someone do this? Innocent. You were innocent. Did they not care? He was the scum they were supposed to beat. What was he supposed to do about it?

After that he didn’t see you, only your mother going in and out of your home  with other people, until even her presence was gone. She must’ve moved you out of the house after the hospital trip.  

 He’d continually look at the small item you gave him after that. Obsessing over it and how you were harmed.

  Giorno even tried to inquire about you after he saved that Mafia affiliated man’s life. You had already left Naples to a rural town in Northern Italy by that point.

 As disheartened as he was he could wait…he’d see you again eventually.

After events that lead to Giorno to Passione and eventually becoming Don of said organization after* (Giorno is aged up to 18 from here on out btw)

 By some sheer amount of ungodly luck Giorno spots you at a restaurant in Naples. He reassures himself that it’s you over and over in his head.

He’d casually introduce himself to your table out of the blue. You would be spontaneously surprised at his presence and the change of his hair color.

  You two would catch up on details of your lives (naturally he wouldn’t let on about him being the Don of the mafia).

 Just about everything that leaves your lips is internalized into his memory. Even your plans when you were intending to leave Naples.

 Giorno would end up paying for your meal and anything extra you wanted. He’d definitely insist on this.

  His heart irrationally races after you leave, finally knowing you were safe and sound. He could finally keep track of you after all this time.

Speaking of he’d find your hotel and mode of transportation that you used quickly.

 Although he’d be very busy with running a Mafia, every spare second he had would be spending time with you. The hotel room you were in would be spontaneously upgraded to the nicest suite in the hotel. 

  Anytime you need refereshers on directions (or just flat out short cuts to avoid crowds) He’ll be eager to guide you. 

   It doesn’t seem all that harmful at first but you’d definitely notice his presence more often than usual the longer you stay in Naples. 

  “Oh Giorno I didn’t see you there…” 

  He’ll give a lovely smile that absolutely exudes charisma, much so chills go down your spine. It was almost creepy how charming he became. 

   “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you y/n” 

 You could just barely pass that off as him knowing the city real well and you both just bumped into each other. But your mind ate up at you otherwise. 

  Then there was a couple days where you could totally relax simply sightseeing, a few museum visits and such. Though you would end up with a nice treat in between that people seemed to eagerly offer you. 

   On the night before you’d supposedly leave, Giorno ends up inviting you to dinner. Anything you preferred. It was a mere distraction as he was getting anxious at the thought of you leaving again. He could show you much more if you just stayed a little longer.

  He could make you happy, just as the city of Naples had.

 When you return to your hotel room you’d go straight to the shower and change your clothes for bed. By the time your usual routine was over, you were sleeping soundly.

   Without you noticing your belongings, mainly your purse and phone would be turned into animals just small enough to get under the crack of the bottom of the door.

    He’d take any physical passes for the train you had, anything scheduled out of Naples would be canceled. Of course he couldn’t have you abruptly leaving either…so he’d have to keep your phone on his person. Speaking of phones he already made sure the one in the room with you was hidden away from your grasp as well, while you were out earlier in the day.

   Waking up you’d be horribly distraught over finding your phone. At first you wanted to call down at the desk but there wasn’t a phone in the room. Even though you were sure there had been one before. 

   You would be too late for the train that recently left twenty minutes ago. On top of that your passes were missing anyway. 

     By the time you were done searching the room you were panicked if you had been pickpocketed by somebody. Eventually you would bump into Giorno who happened to be very receptive to helping you. 

    He’d suggest looking up in your room one last time before going to the police. 

    About five minutes into searching again the blond claims he found it. You ask where and he responds it was simply tangled up in the blankets as he holds it up casually. Eagerly you asked for it back but he didn’t hand it back to you.

  “Giorno. I need my phone back please” 

 He would merely hold the device towards himself refusing to. You would advance towards him and attempted to grab the phone out of his hand. Only to feel something furry moving in your hand before quickly dropping it.

A mouse.

 “W-where’s my p-phone Giorno?”

 He told you wouldn’t need it right now and you insisted why.

 “There’s no reason for you to leave so soon” 

 You’d be both confused and horrified at what he was saying.

 His grip returns to clutch your dominant hand that once held the mouse. The instinct to tell you to run would be screaming loudly but you just couldn’t. Something told you that he would figure out you’d try and run. 

  Abruptly he’d take your hand that was currently in his own and gently kiss the top of yours. You became even more nervous as you instinctively put your other hand out on his chest to keep him at bay.

  His free hand of course would end up taking ahold of that one you were trying to push with as well.

“I-I…” was all you were able to stutter out 

  It would be the only partial thing you’d end up saying. His face would end up near the crook of your neck. His warm lips would gently fall onto the surface of your skin. Again, and again. All until your lips were almost touching. 

 He’d pause for a moment and directly look at you as you would jerk your head back freaked out.

  ““I only wanted to see what interests you had…just everything about you made me fascinated and well I don’t want to see you hurt by anyone else”

  By some strange manner your head ended up closer to his and eventually his hold on your mouth was too strong to slip out of.

  He’d let you get a breath in here and there since you weren’t used to it. Any moment you tried to fight you’d end up in a deeper kiss. All between your tongue being played with his and yours being danced around, to simple small butterfly kisses. 

  Your arms were at their sides with his hands still gripping yours, lightheaded-ness followed suit. In a short few minutes he had left you breathless.

 The utter yearning in his eyes was a bit frightening.

  “Let me do this for you,hmm?”