#‘she was scared of loving bigger than anyone was capable of loving her back’

[stone-stars]

ep 99 short rest is so much all the time to listen to

[shdysders]

what we were

pairing: tara carpenter & reader

summary: in which you would’ve married tara, if she had stuck around.

word count: 4.9k

author’s note: just bare with me.

You had never planned on getting married.

It wasn't a conscious decision, just something that slowly etched itself into the back of your mind as the years passed.

Growing up, you'd watched your mother pick up the pieces after your father left, her quiet strength masking the pain that you knew lingered beneath the surface.

There was no bitter divorce or fiery arguments to signal his departure—just the gradual fading of a man who was once the center of your world.

One day, he was gone, leaving only the hollow echo of promises that were never meant to be kept.

Your mother never talked much about it, but you could see the toll it took on her.

How she would stare out of the kitchen window a little too long, lost in memories that were best left untouched.

You learned early on that love, in its most idealized form, was fragile—something that could shatter without warning, leaving you to pick up the shards.

So, you built walls, fortified them with indifference, and told yourself that you didn't need anyone to complete you.

Marriage was a fairy tale, one that you had long since stopped believing in.

That was, until you met Tara.

Tara, was everything you never knew you needed; sharp-witted, fiercely independent, with a heart bigger than she'd ever admit.

The first time you met her, you were caught off guard by how effortlessly she seemed to break through the walls you'd spent years constructing.

It wasn't just her smile, though that alone could've disarmed you; it was the way she looked at you, like she saw past the armor you wore and straight into the core of who you were.

You tried to keep your distance at first, reminding yourself that you didn't believe in forever. But Tara wasn't the kind of person you could easily push away.

She had this way of showing up when you least expected it, making you laugh when you wanted to be serious, and staying when you needed someone most—even when you couldn't admit it.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the idea of a life without her became more terrifying than the fear of losing her.

It wasn't that the old wounds from your past magically healed, or that the doubts you harbored suddenly disappeared.

But with Tara, the possibility of something lasting felt less like a fairy tale and more like something real—something you could hold onto, despite the uncertainties that lingered in the corners of your mind.

You found yourself imagining a future, not in the abstract way you used to, where it was always just you—alone and self-reliant—but a future that included her.

The thought scared you, but it also made you feel something you hadn't felt in a long time: hope.

It wasn't long before Tara started talking about you to her friends, and soon after, you found yourself meeting the people who meant the most to her.

A few months into your relationship, Tara built up the courage to allow you to meet Sam.

From everything Tara had told you about her sister, you quickly learned that Sam was hard to please.

She was fiercely protective, always scrutinizing anyone who got close to Tara, and you figured you'd be just another name on her list of disapprovals.

However, that was never the case.

Tara later explained how surprised she was when Sam actually warmed up to you.

She had told you how Sam had admitted that, for the first time, she didn't feel the need to interrogate or push you away.

Sam had seen something in you that made her feel comfortable, something that made her believe you were different from the others who had come before. It was an unspoken approval, one that Tara knew was rare and precious.

The approval was more than just a stamp of acceptance; it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, you were capable of the kind of love you'd always doubted existed—at least for you.

But even then, despite the closeness you and Tara shared, you never thought you'd be the kind of person who'd want to settle down, to make that ultimate commitment.

Marriage was still an abstract concept, one that other people did, but never you.

You had convinced yourself that you didn't need a ring or a ceremony to validate what you and Tara had.

But as the months turned into years, you started to realize that it wasn't about the validation. It was about wanting to build something with her—something lasting and undeniable.

You found yourself imagining a future where Tara was by your side, not just in an abstract sense, but in every way that mattered.

The thought of proposing crept into your mind one day, completely unbidden, and you immediately tried to push it away. You weren't the type to get down on one knee, to promise forever when you knew how easily forever could be taken away.

Yet, the idea persisted, lingering at the edge of your thoughts, especially during the quiet moments when Tara was asleep beside you, her hand resting gently on your chest, as if she was anchoring you to her.

You'd never imagined yourself as the kind of person who would propose to anyone. The very idea felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else's story. But with Tara, you started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you'd been wrong all along.

It wasn't that you suddenly believed in marriage as a concept, but rather, you believed in what you had with Tara.

Maybe this was exactly the kind of story you wanted to write—a story where you weren't afraid to say, "I choose you," not just today, but every day for the rest of your life.

Two years into your relationship, you made the decision to propose.

Surprisingly, you had even gotten Sam's permission, something you never thought you'd need but found yourself seeking anyway, wanting her blessing before taking such a significant step.

The idea had been slowly taking shape in your mind, and now it felt like the right time. You wanted it to be perfect, not flashy or over-the-top, but something that felt true to both of you.

One of your usual date nights seemed like the perfect setting—familiar, yet with the potential to become something unforgettable.

You decided to make the night extra special. When you suggested going to a more expensive restaurant than your usual spots, Tara was visibly surprised.

She had raised an eyebrow and teased you about suddenly getting fancy, almost saying no because of the high prices.

But when you offered to cover everything, her smile had softened, and she had agreed.

You knew that Tara wasn't one for grand gestures or extravagant displays, which is why you kept the details simple yet meaningful.

The restaurant was intimate, with dim lighting and a cozy atmosphere, the kind of place where you could easily lose yourselves in conversation.

You had made sure to pick a spot that you knew Tara would love—somewhere that felt like the two of you, but elevated just enough to mark the occasion.

As the evening approached, you could feel the anticipation building, but there was also a sense of calm.

This wasn't about proving anything or trying to impress her; it was about sharing a moment that would forever change the course of your lives together, for the better.

You had planned every detail carefully, but more than anything, you just wanted to tell Tara exactly what you'd been feeling for so long—that you couldn't imagine a future without her, and that you didn't want to.

When the time finally came, you chose to wear the sundress that Tara had once told you she loved on you. It was a soft, flowing dress in a shade of pale blue that always made you feel both comfortable and confident.

You wore your hair half up, half down, just the way Tara liked it, with a few loose strands framing your face. You wanted to look your best, but more importantly, you wanted to look like yourself—the person Tara fell in love with.

Tara arrived in a sleek, black blouse paired with dark jeans, an outfit that was effortlessly chic and perfectly her.

The way she carried herself always took your breath away, and tonight was no different. But as you sat across from each other at the candle-lit table, you noticed that she seemed a bit off.

Tara was looking around nervously, her eyes darting from the menu to the other diners, then back to you, as if she had something else on her mind.

Your own nerves were starting to bubble up, the weight of what you were about to do making your heart race.

You couldn't shake the anxious thoughts running through your head—what if you didn't find the right words, or if the moment didn't go as planned?

But every time Tara's eyes met yours, you found yourself smiling. It was impossible not to. Even with the nerves, even with the uncertainty of how she might react, you knew that this was the right decision.

As you both settled into the evening, your food arrived, and you began eating, trying to keep the conversation flowing naturally despite the butterflies in your stomach.

You had it all planned out. The proposal was going to happen after you both had finished your meal.

You knew Tara's appreciation for surprises and had arranged something special with the restaurant staff. When the time came, a waitress would bring out a beautifully wrapped box, something you had requested to make the moment even more memorable.

It was a small gesture, but one that you knew Tara would appreciate—a carefully wrapped box with a heartfelt message inside that symbolized the depth of your feelings.

The idea was for Tara to open the box and discover a note or memento that would lead into the proposal.

The plan was for Tara to see the message first, giving you just enough time to reach for the ring and get down on one knee before she fully realized what was happening.

You imagined the look of surprise and joy on her face as she opened the box, unaware that this was just the beginning of the moment you had carefully orchestrated.

You kept up the conversation, trying to keep things light and natural despite the nervous energy building inside you.

Tara seemed a little distracted, still glancing around the room every now and then, but you didn't press her on it. You wanted everything to feel as normal as possible until the big reveal.

Every bite was a mix of anticipation and excitement, your heart pounding as you mentally rehearsed what you were going to say.

Tara, on the other hand, seemed to be in her own world, picking at her food more than usual and occasionally glancing around the room, almost as if she had something else on her mind.

You couldn't help but feel a bit of nervousness from her too.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that soon, you'd be asking the most important question of your life.

As you were both eating in comfortable silence, Tara suddenly set down her fork and shifted in her seat. She looked like she was trying to gather her thoughts, and then she spoke up, her voice soft but uncertain.

"So..." she began, her eyes filled with nervous energy as she looked up at you. You immediately sensed that whatever she was about to say was important, so you paused, giving her your full attention.

"I've been thinking about something," she continued, her words tentative, as if she was unsure how to start.

For a brief moment, a thought flashed through your mind—was she planning to propose too?

But that idea was quickly replaced by a gnawing feeling of concern as you noticed the hesitation in her voice, the way she avoided your gaze for just a moment too long.

"I'm not really sure how to say this," she finally said, her voice wavering slightly. "But... I've been having some doubts lately. Not about us, exactly, but about... where we're headed. About the future."

Her words hit you like a cold splash of water, and suddenly the nervousness you'd been feeling took on a different edge. You forced yourself to stay calm, to keep listening as she continued.

"It's not that I don't love you," she said quickly, as if she could see the worry in your eyes. "I do, so much. But I've been wondering if we're moving too fast, or if maybe... we're not moving in the same direction anymore. I've thought a lot about it, and I keep coming back to the same thing. I don't know if I can keep going like this, if this is what's best for either of us."

Tara's voice cracked slightly as she continued, her words coming out in a rush, as if saying them faster would somehow make them hurt less.

"I've been thinking about this for a while, and I didn't know how to bring it up because the last thing I want is to hurt you. But the more I've thought about it, the more I realized that maybe this is the right thing, for both of us. I don't want you to think that this is about you, or that you did something wrong, because you haven't. You've been nothing but amazing, but I just... I think maybe we've grown in different directions, or maybe I'm just not in the right place to be in a relationship right now."

"I think... I think we need to take a step back. Maybe a break, or maybe... we need to stop this altogether."

She paused only briefly before continuing, her words stumbling over each other as she tried to justify what she was saying.

"I mean, I don't even know if I'm making sense right now, and I'm probably messing this up completely. But I just don't want us to keep going down this path if it's not the right one, you know? I care about you so much, and that's why this is so hard. I wish I could just... make this easier somehow."

You felt your heart shatter with each word, your entire body going cold as the reality of what she was saying set in. Your face must have betrayed the sheer disbelief and devastation you felt because Tara's eyes softened, but it did nothing to ease the pain ripping through you.

Your hands, which had been steady on the table, began to tremble uncontrollably. You quickly pulled them into your lap, trying to hide the shaking but finding it impossible to stop.

The fork you had been holding clattered against your plate as you set it down, your fingers no longer able to maintain their grip.

It felt like your mind was racing and shutting down all at once. You couldn't focus on her words, the constant stream of explanations and apologies blending into a blur of noise that only amplified the void growing in your chest.

It was as though the ground had disappeared beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a moment of pure, paralyzing disbelief.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it only seemed to grow, making it hard to breathe.

The sting of tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall, not here, not now.

Your lips parted, as if to say something, but no words came out. How could they, when everything you wanted to say felt too small, too insignificant compared to the enormity of what was happening?

The silence between you was suffocating, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of the reality you were struggling to accept.

Tara's eyes were fixed on you, wide and pleading, as if she desperately wanted you to understand, to say something that would make this easier, but there was nothing you could offer her.

Your hands, now hidden beneath the table, clenched into fists so tightly that your nails dug into your palms, the pain barely registering against the overwhelming numbness that had settled in.

You could feel the warmth of the room closing in on you, the walls seeming to press closer as you fought to keep your composure.

Tara's voice broke the silence again, softer this time, almost a whisper. "I'm so sorry," she said, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I didn't want it to be like this. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. I just... I didn't know how else to do this."

Her apology only added to the weight in your chest, and you could feel a tear finally escape, slipping down your cheek before you could stop it.

You quickly wiped it away, but it was too late—Tara had seen it, and the sight seemed to break something in her too.

She reached out, as if to comfort you, but hesitated, her hand hovering just above the table before she withdrew it again, uncertainty written all over her face.

It was as if she knew that any attempt to console you would only make things worse.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered, the words barely audible as she looked down at her hands, now twisting together in her lap. "You have to believe that."

You wanted to scream, to demand why, to tell her how wrong she was, how she was breaking something that had been so good, so right.

But all you could do was sit there, frozen, as the weight of her words continued to sink in.

The future you had imagined, the plans you had started to make in your head—it all felt like it was crumbling before your eyes, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, as you sat there, staring blankly at your lap. Tara's words seemed to hang in the air, and the weight of them was almost unbearable.

The tears you had been trying to hold back had started to fall more freely, slipping down your cheeks in a steady stream.

Tara watched you with a mix of anguish and desperation, her own eyes brimming with tears that she was struggling to keep at bay.

"Please," she said, her voice breaking as she finally spoke, "please say something."

Her plea was almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of her regret and her need for any kind of response from you. She was clearly tormented by the sight of you in pain and the realization that she was the cause.

As you sat there, lost in your turmoil, the restaurant's ambiance seemed to fade into the background.

The clinking of dishes and the soft murmur of conversations around you felt distant and muffled. The weight of the conversation you'd just had with Tara hung heavily in the air, each word echoing painfully in your mind.

Just then, the sound of footsteps approached your table, and a waitress appeared, holding a small, elegantly wrapped box. She smiled warmly as she set the box down in front of Tara. "Congratulations!" she said cheerfully.

The unexpected greeting cut through the somber mood, and Tara's eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze darted between the box and you, the reality of the situation hitting her with a jolt. "Oh... um, we didn't order anything like this," Tara said, her voice a mix of confusion and discomfort.

The waitress smiled politely. "It was actually a special request from someone who wanted to celebrate with you. I hope you enjoy it!"

Tara's face turned pale as the waitress walked away, leaving the box on the table. The cheerful congratulations seemed to hang in the air, contrasting starkly with the heavy silence that had enveloped the two of you.

As Tara stared at the box, the realization began to dawn on her. The weight of her words, the hurt she had caused, and the timing of this surprise all seemed to collide in her mind.

Her gaze fell back to you, the gravity of the moment settling in even more deeply. The congratulations, intended for a joyous occasion, now highlighted the painful irony of the situation.

Tara's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the box, her fingers hovering over it as if touching it might make the reality of what was happening even more real. "Is this... is this what I think it is?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and dread.

You didn't respond right away, your eyes fixed on the box as well, but not really seeing it.

The moment you had spent weeks planning, imagining how it would unfold, had turned into a twisted echo of what it should have been.

The anticipation, the joy you had envisioned on her face, was replaced with this heavy, suffocating silence.

Tara's voice grew more desperate, almost pleading as she repeated, "Were you... were you going to propose?" Her eyes searched yours, looking for some kind of denial, something that could make this all less real, less painful.

You nodded slowly, your throat too tight to speak. The words you had prepared, the heartfelt confession of love and commitment, were now stuck somewhere deep inside, unreachable.

Tara's fingers trembled as she carefully unwrapped the box, her breath catching as she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, was the ring—delicate, simple, and exactly her style. The realization hit her all at once, leaving her breathless.

She stared at it, eyes wide with the shock of realization.

She paused, her breath shaky as she tried to form a coherent thought. "I... I thought we were on the same page. I thought... God, I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You could see the tears welling up in her eyes, but you couldn't bring yourself to say anything. The words felt too heavy, too final. All you could do was sit there, the ring between you like a painful reminder of what could have been.

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with regret. "I... I didn't think..." she started, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words.

The box, meant to be a celebratory gesture, now seemed like a painful reminder of everything that was unraveling.

The sight of the box, coupled with the realization of how her actions had intersected with the surprise, only deepened the sadness in the room.

She knew that the box was part of a carefully planned proposal—a gesture that was supposed to mark a new chapter in your lives together.

Her thoughts were consumed by the realization of what you had intended.

She could almost see the moment you had envisioned: the box opening to reveal a heartfelt message or token that would lead into a proposal.

Tara had always admired how much thought you put into your plans, and she could imagine the love and hope you had poured into this gesture.

The irony of the situation hit her. Hard.

Here was a beautiful, wrapped box that was meant to symbolize a future together, and yet, it was now sitting in front of her at a moment when the future seemed so uncertain.

The very thing that was supposed to be a celebration of your commitment was now a reminder of the choice she had made.

Tara felt a deep pang of regret as she thought about how much you wanted to marry her, how you had envisioned this proposal as a milestone in your relationship.

How you had trusted her enough. 

She grappled with the realization that while you had been preparing to take a significant step forward, she was now pulling away.

The box represented everything she was suddenly unsure about, and the emotional weight of that contradiction was almost unbearable.

The anticipation and excitement she might have felt for the proposal were overshadowed by the painful reality of the moment, making her wish more than ever that things could be different.

As Tara struggled with the emotional weight of the moment, another waitress approached your table with a notepad in hand.

"Excuse me," she said with a bright smile, "are you ready to order your desserts?"

The question seemed to pierce through the heavy atmosphere, and you sniffled before looking up with tear-filled eyes. Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling as you said, "I don't think we're staying for dessert. I think we're going to leave."

Tara's heart broke at the sight of you, her own tears threatening to spill as she saw the pain in your eyes.

The sadness in your voice, coupled with the way you tried to hold yourself together, was almost too much for her to bear.

The image of you standing there, so small and hurt, was a stark contrast to the joyful proposal you had imagined.

As you began to stand up, Tara's voice cracked as she reached out, her hands shaking. "Y/N, please don't leave."

She paused, searching for the right words, her voice filled with desperation. "Please, let's just... talk this through. I don't want to lose you like this. There's so much I need to say."

Tara's gaze was locked on you, her eyes pleading as she took a shaky breath. The pain of the situation was evident in her expression, and she hoped against hope that you would stay, if only for a little while longer.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's fine, Tara."

But your voice betrayed you, shaking as you said the words, even though nothing about this felt fine.

You wanted to say more, to explain how lost and hurt you felt, but the words caught in your throat, and all you could do was shake your head slightly. "I just... I don't know what to say."

You sniffled, quickly wiping away a tear that escaped before Tara could see it. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" But even as you said it, the words felt empty, like a promise you weren't sure you could keep.

Without waiting for a response, you stood up from the table, your movements stiff and mechanical, as if you were on autopilot.

Tara watched you, her eyes wide with guilt and fear, but she stayed silent, her throat tightening as she saw the pain etched on your face.

You turned to leave, and Tara instinctively stood up, almost as if to follow, but she stopped herself.

Her hand gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white as she held herself back. She knew she couldn't make this better right now, and the weight of that realization pressed heavily on her chest.

You pushed open the door, the night air hitting you as you stepped outside.

For a moment, you paused, feeling the tears threatening to spill over again, but you forced yourself to keep walking, each step taking you further away from the person you thought you'd spend your life with.

Inside the restaurant, Tara remained standing, her heart aching with a crushing guilt she couldn't shake.

She wanted to call out to you, to beg you to come back, but the words wouldn't come.

All she could do was watch as you disappeared into the night, the echo of your voice—the pain in it—ringing in her ears.

And as the door swung shut behind you, Tara was left standing there, alone, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her.

She didn't move, didn't sit back down, just stood there, staring at the spot where you had been, feeling like everything had just slipped through her fingers.

But she knew, deep down, that following you wouldn't fix this—that nothing she could say right now would take away the hurt she had caused.

And that was something she would have to live with.

So she stayed where she was, the guilt heavy and suffocating, knowing that all she could do was wait and hope that this wasn't the last time she'd see you.

But she also knew that, for now, there was nothing more she could do.

Walking away, every step was taking you further from the life you thought you'd have, the future that had seemed so certain just hours before.

You had believed that you and Tara were writing the same story, that the future you both wanted was shared, built on a foundation of love and dreams whispered late into the night.

But standing there, with her words unraveling everything you thought was certain, you realized that while you had been planning a lifetime together, she had been questioning if that future was ever truly meant to be.

The hardest part wasn't just hearing her doubts—it was understanding that she had quietly let go of the future you were still holding onto.

She had left that future behind long before she ever said the words, moving on from the life you thought you would share.

And now, all that was left were the pieces of a dream that you had been building alone.

[operationslipperypuppet]

“she was kinda scared of loving bigger than anyone was ever capable of loving her back”

“seeing not just the way he loved her, but the way he loved other people, it just felt like his capacity for love, like, matched hers.”

god. this is so fully why hardshine works so well and why it is something that i can continue being insane about all the time. they both love so loudly and have found exactly the person who is able to match that volume. hardwon needed love and moonshine was there to offer it. so of course he will offer it in return.

[martinsluvr]

home

pairing: kate martin x fem reader! post 2023-24 season

warnings: mentions of anxiety! fluff!

author’s note: writing this to help manifest kate martin to the connecticut sun 🤞🏼🤞🏼

————————————

“kate! i’m telling you we should’ve rented a bigger van!” you huffed out. currently, your shared apartment in iowa city with kate is covered in boxes and bags, preparing for a big move to connecticut. after kate was drafted in the 3rd round to the connecticut sun, you immediately started looking for apartments to make accommodations. luckily, you easily found a job as a speech pathologist near mohegan sun, and it’s been your dream to help young kids in your career.

“babe we’re gonna be fine. just let me do the heavy lifting please” kate called out from the bedroom. moving is stressful for anyone, but for kate, this whole experience has been stressful. of course, she was ecstatic and shocked hearing her name be called in the draft, she honestly thought she was going to have to play overseas, but then the quick realization set in that it’s not easy to make a roster when you’re a third round drafted rookie, especially in the WNBA. she struggled with a lot of anxiety, fearing being cut. training camp was hard for her, as she was there alone while you stayed in iowa city, packing and getting everything together for a possible big move. after flying through training camp, kate was kept on the roster and it was time to officially make connecticut your home.

“maybe we shouldn’t even bring everything honey, what if they decide they’re going to cut me anyways after they realize i’m not that great” kate sighed as she walked into the living room. she took a seat next to you on a cardboard box, putting her head in her hands. “who knows how long we’ll be there, i don’t know what i’m going to do if they decide they don’t want me and then you already signed a contract for your job. i don’t want to mess our lives up. maybe i should just call them and tell them i’m not com-” “kate” you breathed out. “kate it’s okay” you said as she slowly started sobbing. you wrapped your arms around her as she cried into your chest.

“kate, you are amazing. if they didn’t want you, you wouldn’t have made it this far through training camp. the season starts in a few weeks and they want YOU. you are ready for this. so what if you’re not the best player on the team? you are going to learn and grow so so much, and who knows the player you will be after this season. you have to have faith in yourself. whatever happens, we’re gonna make it work, and i’m always going to be here” you said as you gently rubbed her back, “and you’re always going to be the best player in my eyes baby”. kate looked up at you, eyes red and puffy.

“i’m scared” she whispered through sobs. you held her even tighter, kissing her head.

“i know kate, and that’s a part of the process. it’s okay to be scared, but it’s not okay to give up when you’re more than capable of growing into a great wnba player” you said as you lifted her head to look at you. “i love you kate, and i’m so proud of you regardless”.

kate smiled, for the first time since you started packing a few days ago. she wrapped her arms around you, hugging you tightly, then pulling away to plant a sweet kiss on your lips. “i love you my sweet girl, thank you for believing in me”, she smiled.

“i’m always gonna believe in you. i’m your #1 fan forever. except for when we have to lug your boxes of shoes out of this apartment” you huffed out. you stood up, extending your arms out to her. you pulled her up, and put your arms around her waist and looked up at her. “let’s make our way to our new home”.

“i’m home whenever i’m with you pretty girl” kate said with a wide grin. she picked you up, spinning you around and kissing you hard. “i wouldn’t want anyone else to do this with me” she mumbled, slowly kissing you again as she put you down.

you knew this wasn’t going to be easy. new state, no friends, a new job for both of you, but all that mattered was that you had each other, and kate was your home too.

[multific]

Aemond With a Fierce Wife - Headcanons

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

You were no noble

But you sure behaved like one

You were all so grand and beautiful

And once you married Aemond, this fierceness in you only grew

One would describe you as a bitch with a nasty attitude

You didn't hold your tongue for anyone

No matter who they were

Man

Woman

King

Queen

Prince

or Princess

You took no exception when it came to your honest opinions

You were very honest and raw

It was a part of you which made Aemond fall in love

Even when you just met him, a lady-in-waiting for a Princess he was supposed to court

You behaved like a Queen

The way you held yourself

The way you walked and talked

And that shoulder of yours which was always out, glistening in the sun as you moved, drove him wild

Your tongue was sharp

Aemond liked that

So, instead of the sweet princess, he married you and made you a Princess

Funny enough you were almost the complete opposite with him

Your smirk always turned into a full smile

Your sharp tongue could say such sweet things to him

Truth be told he feared you only wanted his name

But that was the farthest from the truth

At first, you wanted him because you hated the Princess

You wanted to show her that you are just as capable

To make up for every comment she made about you

How she often belittled you without any reason

For how she spoke of you behind your back

Calling you names

Oh yes, you wanted revenge 

But then you fell in love

Aemond was so different from all the other men

He showed kindness

He showed care

He was a real strong man

He was interesting

Smart

You wanted him

Not his eye, not his title, not his name or dragon

But him, Aemond

And true love you found in him

You loved gowns, the bigger the better

Sparkly, colourful 

Something perhaps not even the Queen herself would wear

But let's be honest Alicent adores you

She was the mother you never had

And something about your sharp nature intrigued her

Watching you in your grand dresses, all different colours, she loved to dress you

Given half of your dresses came from her, you felt like she dressed you more than her own daughter

You always stood your ground

Never even blinked

Not even in the presence of Rhaenyra

Alicent liked that no matter what happened, you stood up for her family

She listened to you defend her family harshly

One time you even laughed into the face of the King himself

The King wanted your head for such treason 

But the point you made and the way you defended yourself

No one was match when it came to you defending someone you loved

Not even the King

How could you not defend them?

You finally had a family

Aegon often referred to you as the snake

Spitting venom

But you just laughed

“Brother, hold your wife on a tighter grip.” Aegon said

“Looks like the Prince is scared of a woman who has her own opinion.”

“I’m not afraid.” he said taking a sip of wine.

“Then why are you shaking?” the rise of your brow, the silence in the room, you loved it.

Aemond loved it

Aegon changed a lot with you in the family

As if your words cut deeper than his own mothers ever could

One evening, you found him passed out on the floor

“Just what are you doing?”

“Sleeping.” he replied, not even opening his eyes.

“Right, a true King you will be, sleeping in your own piss and vomit. Aegon The Great Sleeper they will call you.”

The family was strong when you arrived but they only grew stronger

Aemond didn't care for his eye any longer

Barely even wore the eyepatch

Showing off the sapphire you admired

You changed the family but you never changed yourself

You were strong as a mountain

"No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it."

You would often say

But once you were in your chambers with your husband

Once the gowns and jewellery were off

Once it was only you and him

You were a sweet woman

No venom, no attitude

Just you and him

Just a woman and her husband

Aemond swore he saw so many sides of you he often wondered which one was the real one

"All of me is real, My Prince. A woman is like the elements, we could be dangerous as fire, but also soothing and calm as the water."

"And you, My Love, combine all of that with the fierceness of a dragon."

"Or snake as your brother likes to refer to me as."

"He is not smart."

"Because he used to be drunk most of the time, now that he put his cup down, finally he can see behind it and not only the bottom of it."

"You are clever my love. I wonder you never had any choice words as such towards me, why would that be?"

"Oh, who am I to criticize perfection, My Love?"

You loved his smile

It was so easy for you to make him smile

No doubt, you were his firey, fierce but loving wife

A/N: Who caught the Mulan quote? It’s one of my absolute favourites.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter @stunkbiggu @violet-19999 @praline357

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

              DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[aloneatpeace]

Cosmic Chaos

Chapter 19

BENNETT HOUSE 🏠

The ancient looking book sits on your bed untouched, grams given you saying it will help you discover about yourself but something about it doesn’t seem right like you can’t just open right now, you can but every time you try you feel like it’s not the right time, maybe you should just give it back to grams let her do the work but again the startled look…the fear in her eyes makes you hesitant, is what ever you’re really bad.

Your door opens and grams comes in with smile on her face “how are you doing my sweetheart?” She sits on your bed her eyes fall on the book. “You haven’t open it?”

“No. it doesn’t seem the right time” you sit up and position yourself laying your head in lap fingers tracing the book.

“Is that so?”

You nod looking up to her “and…. when I touch someone, I see something I can’t explain.”

She hums running her hands through your hair “tell me some”.

“Sometimes it’s their past, their memories I guess…….and I saw you…...I saw you dying” you whisper the last bit.

“You can see the past, present and future. Isn’t that amazing” she said with a smile.

You sit with frown “did you not hear grams; I saw you die”

“Everyone dies in the end, dear. And I’m sorry you had to see that” she takes your hands in hers. You turn away making her sigh. “If that’s my future you can’t do anything about it”

You turn to her with your jaw set in anger at her nonchalance in the matter of her life. “But your death doesn’t seem right. it was pointless. I felt it”

“I don’t fear dead”

“But you fear me. Why?” you quickly close your eyes in anger at the slip of your tongue.

The smile vanishes from her face and you curl yourself into you scotting away making grams heart clench “I don’t fear you; I know you could never hurt me or anyone who you love”

You look back at her sensing a but coming “then what is it?”

“My dear girl” she scoots over taking your hands in her “you don’t know what your capable of, and what you harness is something bigger than anything I ever known”

Your eyes held uncertainty “you’re afraid of what I’ll become. Am I not supposed not have this chaos in me”

She shakes her head “No. from what I’ve understand there is only few across the multiverse who can harness this power.”

“If you think, I don’t deserve it or capable of this power can we get rid of it?”

Grams see the fear in your eyes now mind going to dark places, you mind become ocean of wild waves, the thought of someone fear you for what you are is something she known.

She takes your face in her hands “don’t be scared, the power you harness choose you because it deemed you worthy. You can control it you already have. You never ever should be scared of yourself. You hear me”

You nod with teary eyes she smiles at you kissing your forehead and settle back in the bed.

“How do I do it?”

She thinks for a moment before standing up “get ready we are going somewhere”.

“Where?” she doesn’t give any answer hurry to get dressed. “What about my class?”

“Like you actually prefer going to class.” She raises her brow at you.

“Fair enough” shrugging you send quick texts to stiles and scott saying you won’t be coming and to derek to lay low.

You settle yourself in the passenger seat as grams starts to drive, she had asked you to take few things with the book which is seated in the back seat. You been driving for few hours yet you didn’t reach where you are going grams didn’t tell you where the both of you are going.

“Okey we are almost at the edge of the town. Where are we going?”

She hums “somewhere you can let yourself go without fearing anyone”

Your eyes widen “But I needed back home. My friends need me”

“And when they do you will be back. It will only take few hours” she comforted “beside I told bonnie to stay with her dad tonight”

“We won’t make it back evening?” your voice get high.

“Nope”

“So, how exactly we do that?”

She checks her phone a message pop up on her device “first I need to know what exactly you can do, to see what you can and can’t do”

OUTSKRIT OF TOWEN

Once you’re out of town you both drive for a couple of hours before she stops at the front of the motel only few cars on the parking lot.  Grams get out the car and you follow her; she stops and turn to look at the other side “I didn’t know. you two would come”

Confusion settled in you and your eyes follow her direction, two guys stride towards you both. They both are tall, one of them is a little bit taller than the other. The tallest one had brown hair and light green eyes there is little bit of brown hue, puppy dog eyes with broad shoulders and slender body. The other had green eyes, muscular frame a cheeky grin on his face that decorated with light freckles with dark blonde hair.

“Well, I couldn’t just sit when the Bennett witch, asked to wanted take a case near” the short one said with smug smile on his face. He turns to you “hi sweetheart, dean Winchester” he put his hand forward you glance at grams she doesn’t seem to annoyed by them its like she knew that they would be here you shake your hands with him saying your name dean gives you wink.

The taller one glare at dean and an apologetic smile on his face “don’t mind him. I’m sam Winchester” you shake your hands with sam nodding.

You then turn to grams “can you please tell me what’s going on here”

“The Winchester brothers are hunters” your eyes widen “not the mindless one who kills every supernatural being. Don’t worry. I asked they have any hunting nearby”

You glance at the brothers and sam give you soft smile while dean give you smug one its adorable actually but you cannot say it out loud or express it.

“And we do, not one but two actually a wendigo few miles ahead and a vampire nest” dean said

You nod wondering what does this has do with you and remembering how stiles would have found this terrifying but also amazing.

“And where are here to assist them?”

Grams look at the brothers then you “I was planning to send you alone”

  “What? you were sending me to die!”  your voice gets high dean and sam exchange looks of concern.

“You will not die, I wanted to see what you’re capable of how your magic works” grams said calmly “beside I will be there to if anything goes wrong”

“Is she not a witch?” dean asks

Gram sighs “I’m not exactly sure, she does harness chaos magic but there is something else”

Dean looks confused while sam seems intrigued looking at you “I didn’t think chaos magic exists” he said.

“I thought too, but here we are” grams said “which hut is near?”

A serious look comes over dean face “Wendigo but are you sure sending her alone is safe?”

“Boy her best friend is a newly turned werewolf and she already had encountered an alpha and if I’m correct two vampires” grams explain.

Dean close his mouth turning to you “I don’t know how I did it” you said quickly after seeing deans questioning glance.

“Wait grams, are you sure it’s good idea. I barely lived last time.” You lean towards her whispering “With them”

She nods “Yes. Do you not trust me?” and turns to the boys “and I’m guessing you boys won’t sit one this out” they nod agreeing. “Then this what we are going to do. She will do this alone and if only if she needs help you will intervene and I will be connected to you to see what you are exactly do when use your ability”

Everyone agrees and set out the first location. You wonder what is going on back home.

EARILER ON

While you were asleep on the other side stiles and scott along with derek just got away from the argents and police.

“What part of ‘laying low ‘don’t you understand?” scott yells while driving, they are almost out their reach.

“Yeah, be lucky it was us, if she is the one coming to save your ass. You’ll be hearing a lot” stiles add with scott agreeing with him silently. “She literally told you to stay low few hours ago”

“I almost had him!” derek hiss shifting in his seat

Stiles eagerly lean over “who the alpha?”

“Yes! He was right in front of me, and the freaking police showed up.” Derek grunt impatiently.

Stiles faced is offended on the behalf of his father “Whoa! They’re just doing their jobs- “he gets cut off by derek scoffing “Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!”

 “Can we seriously get past that? I made a dumbass mistake. I get it” scott speaks, finally calming down after shaking of them.

Stiles sighs “all right. how did you find him?”

Derek stays silent for a moment making scott look at him in annoyance “We talked about this. You have to trust at least if you expect us to help you”

“Yeah. y/n, she would not like it if you keep secret from us” stiles said nonchalantly making derek look at with a done face.

“Look, last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris.”

 “Our chemistry teacher?”

“Why him?”

“I don't know yet.”

“What’s the second?”

“Some kind of symbol.” Derek shows it scott his eyes narrowing when he sees scotts face “What? You know what this is?

“I’ve seen it on a necklace. Allison's necklace.”

Stiles slumps in his seat “that just amazing.” He takes out his phone “I’m tell y/n about all this”

“NO” derek and scott yell together the three looks at each other

 Stiles squint his eyes at them “I like to hear the reason why not”

“we will tell her. not now because one she might be sleeping and she will be pissed when she knows we were involved in freaking chase. “

Stiles nods and turns to derek who roll his eyes “same reasons”

THE WOODS

You taken in the sight of tall tress standing packed though its morning the cloudy day hides the sun, the plan is simple you along sam and dean would go in and you will take down the wendigo while grams who had done a spell that connected her with you. she said she needed peaceful atmosphere without anyone disturbing the spell. The identical charm you are wearing would act as medium that would foam the connection.

You three walk through the woods the brothers were a little behind you the tall one is carrying a bag.

“What do you guys wanna know?” You know their inching to ask you something, sam and dean look at each other.

“Well even though your grams said you are familiar too the supernatural. You seem pretty well put together, for someone who doesn’t know about her powers” dean said you stop walking and turns to them.

“Oh, I’m actually terrified to be honest, but grams believe in me and though I don’t fully understand what I am. My powers actually did save me when thought I was going die” you confess looking at your hands. “And grams trust you both to aid me and I trust you as well” you glance up sam give you reassuring smile as dean give you an understanding nod.

Sam walks up to you “do you know anything about wendigo?” he asks dean catch up and three of you resume walking.

“I know they know as the evil that devour human / mankind. That’s they were thousand-year-old was once human turned to cannibal in order to survive. They feed on human flesh and oh they use mimicry to make their prey vulnerable to lure them in and super strength and speed and that we can kill it using fire, silver bullet” you think missing how the brothers looks astounded as you speak.

Sam was hoping to share his wisdom on supernatural beings maybe even show you his dad’s journal to educate you more on the matter. Looking at dean, sam realizes his brother is equally shocked and impressed to be honest.

“And why you both look surprised?” they snap out of their trance and see you glance at them self-consciously.

Sam was quick to answer “how do you know all these? Did grams teach you”

“No. me and my friend stiles are part of online gaming community that battles mythical creature” you sheepishly say in front of the real hunters.

Dean open his mouth but nothing comes out. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Anasazi symbols. Its protection circle wendigo can’t cross over, just like simple salt circle” sam said gripping his bag tight. “Three people had gone missing few days ago around here, and only one made it alive barely he’s still in the hospital, and we did our research it’s likely the wendigo”

 “Do you think they’re alive?”

Dean nod to your question “a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time. when its awake, it keeps its victim alive. It stores them so it can feed whenever it wants”

“Not to be skeptic, but what if its something else? What did the guy said about what happened” All though you trust their verdict as they are far more experienced than you there is chance that there might be something else behind the missing people.  

“Well, why don’t you just hear what he said” dean said and turns to sam “Sammy”

Sam rolls his eyes at the name before bringing a bag to the front and take out a recoding device, you three circles together.

“Hi, we’re special agents investigating your friends missing case. Could please tell us what exactly happened” sam voice heard through the device first.

A moment pass “we were just having a good time. it’s been while since we get together, joe’s birthday was coming up and he loved camping so we planned it. everything was going great until….  it was the night. We heard someone call for our help. It spooked us bit but James one of my friends wasn’t scared. He’s not the type to get sacred easily…… we had already called the police. when he had gone to take a look it when it silent. He called out but no answer came then…. we heard some sound where James had gone and next thing, we hear is James’s voice calling out for help he sounded like he’s in pain. We both run towards him but Erik stopped suddenly I don’t know what he saw I was behind him. then he screamed at me to run…. I kept running when stopped Erik wasn’t behind me either I called for them…but something else came it slashed me across my chest, it looked like hum…. I don’t know…... just please find my friends”

“The guy was lucky police come quickly” dean said sam nodded.

“I wanted ask, while I was looking up here. I saw there is so many murders happening in your town” sam said looking at you with questioning glance.

You nod sighing “yeah. Well, there is alpha going around killing people and there are two vampires in town. One is killing people left and right. they are brothers as well. I don’t know if you know them the Salvatore brothers, Stefan and damon “

“The ripper?” sam voice come out loud, the name he had read so many times, you stands confused at the name.

“Sam quite we don’t want it come out to us” dean hiss

Sam eager eyes finds yours “you’re saying the ripper is in your town and you meet him?”

“Who is ...the ripper?”

Dean intervenes “sam we don’t have time for history class”

Sam eyes doesn’t move from you “which one’s the ripper stef- “You cut yourself off when you feel someone’s presence making you alert.

Sam and dean also realize that they’re being watched. Then a blood curdling scream echoes from the side.

Dean take out his flare gun along with sam, you glance at them “are you ready?” dean whispers to you.

You take a deep breath, trying to tap in your power the thing is watching you, analyzing from the darkness of the cloudy day and dense trees. Nodding you walk towards the sound the Winchester brothers just behind you.

The screams for help echo around the woods, but you suddenly halt a sudden feeling of hopelessness hit you raw and painful.

Eyes turning purple and you see the two missing guys tied up in cave. Without a thought you run towards the direction the brothers follow. 

“The people are in there” you say looking down the slope that led to a abandon mine.

Series masterlist

[psychoforanime]

[Megumi Fushiguro & Fem!Y/n]

Warnings: None. It's kind cute.

_______________________________________

It has been a while since the new student made it to Jujutsu school in Tokyo. She left a huge mark on everyone despite the short period. Nobara and Yuji fell in love with her the munite they met. They found her big, curly hair fascinating and stylish. Not to mention her style, at the airport, They were staring at her, thinking she was a model before she approached them introducing herself as the new student, and it took them awhile to comprehend that. They immediately became bestfriends.

Megumi don't hate her either, He respected her chill and kind personality. Especially after seeing her, laugh off Yuji and Nobara rude ass questions such as 'You are an African? if yes why are you white?' or 'How your hair stays up like that throughout the day?' Rude much? but they meant no harm, They were genuinely curious, and She knew that, and that's why she laughed and answered every question thoroughly. She didn't need too but She did. He admired that.

Gojo tho admired her for a whole different reason, To be fair, She may not leave a good mark on everyone. The way Y/n lashed out at Yoshinobu Gakuganji once for not respecting Ijichi shocked everyone. She reminded everyone that she was not japanese and that she didn't grow up respecting the elderly. Rather, she respected who deserves to be respected. To her, ijichi deserved more respect than Yoshinobu or the higher-ups ever deserved it. Let's not forget the fact that quote on quote said,'Higher-ups ? I don't respect bitchs who don't show their faces on battle fields' she was ready to fight Yoshinobu, cursed energy going through her body and blood lust, fulling the room. Gojo somehow managed to calm the situation, but the amount of respect Y/n gained wasn't something anyone can control. She was feisty and crazy enough not to think twice about fighting the higher-ups herself or anyone in that matter, keeping everyone on their toes.

That's why, when shit went down the hill in this mission, nobody doubted Y/n capability to keep up until the backup appears. Her ability was more or less simple, Teleportation. Her mind, It's her mind that scared everyone. She made a simple teleportation which supposedly trivial, at best, a 3th grade technique to 1st grade technique: instead of learning how to save up energy to teleport more people if needed and staying at that like everyone on her clan did, First, She learned how to change the teleportation technique to something similar to resizing technique and teleport a object or person to a bigger or smaller size to either blow or squish them. She also learned to transport organs, eventually leading to learning to transport cursed energy too, so instead of saving up cursed energy, she uses the enemy's energy against them. The only problem is that she has to touch the person or the object or the place to teleport it, from or to it.

With that much said, it was supposed to be a simple mission to capture a curse user and bring them back. after being surrounded, The damned old man made a pack with the heavens in exchange for his soul to open up portals and let 300 1st grade curses out and about. Who would fucking do that?! No-one had much time to think before screaming started, Y/n quickly teleported the other 3 with her out side of the mess along with her. She quickly found her way back now that her back is clear and the others are safe, She can think properly.

By the time, back-up appeared, Y/n have killed 60 of them. Thanks to her using the enemy's energy instead of her own she wasn't showing any hints of weakness. Soon enough, Kyoto's , Tokyo's and other sorcerers appeared to help. Unfortunately for Y/n the less enemy's the less powers she have. So by the time they ended the 300, and the Portals were showing the hints of blowing up. Y/n and eveyone around her was barely able to move.

"Where's that fucking blindfolded guy when he's needed?" Y/n whispered before transporting everyone away,herself excluded, with the last bit of her curse energy. She bearly was able to run toward megumi, who was also too beaten and too shocked to move. 'Damn it, I should have marked him when I had the chance.' The girl thought, regretting her life choices for once in her life. A white-haired man appeared out of nowhere front of the crowd watching his two students finding their way towards them with seconds left to the explosion, He held his hand up ready to help till he felt it.

He watched as the whole place exploded, blasting wind towards them. "Why.." The black-haired kid asked turning to Y/n. She was able to sense Gojo in time to use his curse energy, it was Gojo who joked that he will safe her life if she marked him just in case which Actually safed her. 'He knew' that all she can think right now. Before turning to Mrgumi, He had his arm around her shoulder and her arm around his terso helping him standing, their faces close enough to feel each other's breaths, she shook her head smiling,, shaking all of the thoughts aways. She just glad they made it. Looking at his sparkly eyes, "You haven't fucked me yet, can't let you die" she laughed making the boy flush bright red, his eyes wide open before turning his face away. Gaining hair ruffle from Gojo and cheeky "I told you, you are popular among the girls", "Shut up!" Megumi whispered, gaining another laugh from Gojo and Y/n together. They sure love to torture him.

After that accident, Megumi been flushing alot around Y/n. Now, those words are the only thing the poor boy can think of. 'Was she serious?'

_______________________________________

This draft, I'm still not posting anything new because of exams tho. Sorry. Hope You enjoyed. DM/Comment ideas or something if u enjoy and want more. Any support is appreciated 💯 🙏 .

[sapphiredhearts-a]

let's talk early life

Jacob had a very happy childhood . His parents were childhood sweethearts & for his memory he did not recall a time where there was any strain on their marriage . of course his twin sisters were able to recall a particular argument involving a pregnant woman in La Push once upon a time - but it seemed to go nowhere & they never spoke on it .

For the most part - Billy Black worked & Sarah Black stayed home with the children . Sarah was a beautiful woman with a sunny disposition that made anyone love her within moments . She cared about everyone & would lend a helping hand to whomever needed it . She had gone to school to be a teacher but had decided to stay home with the three children as she felt her calling was truly to be a mother .

Jacob was probably the closest to his mother , always choosing to toddle along behind her or begging her to take him wherever she went . He enjoyed time with his father but in the beginning they were not very close - only bonding over sports or cars which Jacob took a liking to very young .

Around the time Jacob was seven , his home life began to change . His mother started to become withdrawn - sad even . He was not sure what happened but overheard his sisters talking about some baby . They always quieted when he came into the room so he never learned the true story . In time it would come to be a habit - secrets were something the Black family did well .

Over the next few years Sarah would stay in bed more often than not & when she was out she often wandered to the beach alone - either walking the shore or staring off into the distance as she sat on the sand - a blank expression in her eyes . Jacob was terrified & did all he could to try to bring her back to life . Nothing worked as it was beyond his capability but he tried anyway - even going so far as to quit baseball at school and come home to try & do things for his mother . People whispered , of course , but he paid no mind to them .

Age 9 is when tragedy struck . Nobody knows what happened on the rainy night that his parents got into the car crash . Some say Billy was driving back home from the Clearwater's annual summer BBQ . Some say it was Sarah who hadn't wanted to attend in the first place . What everyone did know is that it changed the Black's family dynamic forever . Sarah died on impact & Billy was left paralyzed from the waist down - having to be put into a wheelchair for the rest of his life .

Jacob's sisters very obviously blamed Billy . Rebecca was the first to want out - staying away from the house at all hours & talking nonstop about how she would find a way from this "hell" of a town . She and Jacob had never been particularly close but this drove an even bigger wedge between the two . It took awhile but when she was in her senior year of high school - Rebecca met a tourist on vacation from Hawaii . Jacob figured she would have married him for the plane ticket alone but she seemed to truly love Solomon & left as soon as the wedding vows were said . Afterwards , she never visited .

Rachel , for the most part , tried to help out . But anybody could see that it was wearing on her . She was not made for domestic life & although she did her part in raising Jacob it was apparent that she loathed having to help Billy & had unresolved anger towards the man . When she was accepted to college she left too , leaving Jacob at home with Billy at the age of 14 .

Jacob rose to the occasion as he knew his mother would want him to do . He did well in school & even found time for his friends Quil & Embry - although they mostly hung out in his garage in case Billy needed him . Unlike his sisters , the accident had driven Billy & Jacob closer together . Sometimes he thinks it is because he was scared to lose both parents - but otherwise he tries not to think too hard on anything surrounding those years right after his mother's death . He prefers to stay optimistic .

Jacob was popular in school & certainly had his pick of girls from not only his school but in Forks . But he mostly stayed away from forming deep bonds with anyone outside of his two friends . It was too difficult to juggle anything more & he figured eventually he'd have time for himself . He never asked questions about anything about their past & it seemed that this pleased Billy . Although he did find his father's increased ramblings on the tribe's legends & history to be annoying . Jacob did not believe in anything out of the ordinary until he had to .

[the-void-writes]

Love me.

Have fun! ✨

Thank you so much Circa!!! I hope it's okay that I went with something simple for Maddie and her partners. I'm still working on their dynamics lol

Bluebrook - A New Home

“Did you make it?”

Jon was whispering into the keyhole of the door, hoping that Maddie could hear him from the other side. The others stood behind him, blocking the moonlight as they shivered and paced around. They were cold and tired, Jon knew, but at least they were still together.

“This isn’t necessary,” Anthony said, crossing his arms to keep himself warm. “Bluebrook’s got plenty of rooms, we can just live there.”

Charlie scoffed. “No offense, baby, but I’d rather not live in the place that held us captive.”

“Vesely’s gone, isn’t he? Things are different.”

“How can you be sure? Why do you, of all people, want to trust them so badly? They locked you in a damn box.”

“I don’t trust them, but I know how to deal with scientists and doctors.” Anthony’s teeth chattered as he hissed. “We’re not exactly equipped to fight mutated wildlife or whatever the hell’s out here. We need a place where we can actually be safe.”

Charlie smiled and pulled him into his shoulder. “Aww, Tony, I didn’t know you were scared. It’s okay, we’ll protect you from all the big, nasty creatures.”

Anthony pried himself away. “I’m not scared of them. I’m scared for you and your absolute lack of defensive skills.”

“I’m sorry, which of us has been to the gym in the last week?”

“Taking photos of yourself on the yoga mat isn’t exercise.”

While the two of them bickered, Jon tried to look into the keyhole through his glasses, which proved difficult when his breath kept fogging up the lenses. Sam’s big, gentle arms surrounded him, trying to keep him warm.

“Maddie’s gonna make it,” Sam said. “She’s probably just pretending she’s a spy.”

Jon smiled. “Do you remember back in middle school, when she’d sneak into the vending machines—”

“And throw down snacks for us.” Sam laughed. “Tony always left money in it afterwards.”

“Yeah… I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I miss school.”

Sam frowned and kissed his cheek. “Things will get better, Jonny. We’ll find a nice home, live a peaceful life, and maybe the world will start healing along the way. There’s always a chance for— Will you two knock it off?!”

Charlie and Anthony stopped their bickering, which had been growing louder. Sam rarely snapped at anyone, but when she did, people knew better than to test her. Their sweet, stout, partially-blind friend was more than capable of cooking someone through pure UV light.

Finally, the house came to life with lights and buzzing, and soon the front doors swung open. Maddie stood in the doorway, shaking and covered in cobwebs. Sam and Charlie rushed to them and tried to clean it off.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Please, just make sure they’re not on me.”

Charlie smiled. “You’re good, sweetie. These look old. Any bugs that made these are probably dead.”

Maddie made a small squeak. “Great, dead bugs. I’m gonna go see if the shower works.”

They rushed down the dark hall, leaving the others to gather inside. The house seemed bigger than it appeared outside. A dirty, rusted chandelier hung over the entryway, right in front of a small indoor balcony on the second floor. This small group of former Preston residents had never seen such a grand house in person before.

“You guys can look around,” Sam said, “I’ll go help Maddie.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Charlie said with a grin.

Sam’s face was as red as her hair. “Don’t be gross, Charles.”

She hurried away, and Charlie wandered further down the hall. Jon’s hands shook as he tried to lock the front door, so Anthony did it for him. With the winter wind blocked out, Anthony could better hear his partners’ footsteps, and Jon’s soft breathing as he stood beside him.

“Thank you,” Jon said.

Anthony nodded. “A place like this probably has a fireplace. We can warm you up.”

“Will you sit with me?”

He cleared his throat. “If that’s what you’d like.”

“What about you? Would you like it?”

His soft smile made Anthony’s heart beat even faster. He had promised himself to be more open for Jon, ever since he discovered that his poor friend thought he had hated him. 

“I would,” he said.

“Hey lovebirds!” Charlie shouted. “Check out this kitchen, we can finally cook!”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Please don’t let him cook anything.”

“I’ll distract him,” Jon said. “Then you can cook instead.”

“Deal.”

Jon led Anthony into the kitchen. Dinner that night may have been year-old canned spaghetti, but it felt like a grand meal. The five young lovers sat together by the fireplace, listening to music from an old record player, chatting and joking around like they had before the earth died. Jon got to sit with Anthony by the fire, staring at the dancing flames that flickered against the stones. 

He gently laid his head on Anthony’s shoulder, waiting to see if he would pull away, smiling to himself when he didn’t. The music and laughter of their partners was a perfect ambience. Jon sat a little closer.

“Tony, is it too early to say that I love you?”

“We say it all the time, don’t we?”

“Yeah, but this is— I really do love you. I hope you know that.”

Anthony looked down at him. “I know, Jon. I can see it in your mind… and I love you, too.”

Jon smiled and kissed the tip of his chin. Two dark arms came down around the duo, and Charlie peeked out between them. The firelight danced in his deep green eyes, like the very souls he controlled.

“Are you playing favorites, Tony?”

“No, Charlie, don’t worry. I’ll love you no matter how much you irritate me.”

Charlie grinned. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

He started to leave, but Tony took his hand. It still felt weird to be so forward, but it also felt freeing, in a way.

“Thank you for finding us a new home.”

He leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Get your ass over here before you make me cry.”

Jon helped Anthony off the ground and to the long couch, where Sam and Maddie immediately pulled them both down between them. Surrounded by their warm embrace, hearing their soft breathing, Anthony didn’t need to read their minds to know how much they adored him. He was just as certain, now, that they knew how much he loved them back.

[wheezyswheeloffortune]

❛ That was…an ugly and sinister thing I did, but it wasn’t me. Not, really anyways–I’d never. I’d never hurt my little ones they mean the world to me I—❜

Fingertips coated in an ash like black sludge touched the reflective surface surrounding them, it was like water but stood still, upright sort of like a mirror. She could see her reflection so clearly and what stared back was a sickly looking woman, eyes devoid of any light or joy, skin pale and coated in beads of sweat. She’s reaching for something but what? Her mind becomes blurry, static reaching down into her core gripping the base of her spine ferociously while the outer shell begins to seize up. The being falls to her knees, what once was woman now barely recognizable beyond the fiery locks and piercing gaze.

Whatever remained of her was locked away in a chest far deep somewhere in her mind, she repeated the opening statement quietly hoping it would somehow reach the surface and her desperate attempts at clawing free from her prison would maybe work. But the primal urge for something far more important is what continues to drive her vessel forward. Something much bigger than her or anyone else around her.

A mother’s love is beautiful.

It is careful and kind, it is patient and attentive. It is all knowing and fierce like a lioness a mother would do anything to protect her cubs. She is watchful, vigilant, she is protective and a guiding light for her children for years to come. Even when she’s gone she never truly leaves because parts of her soul are sprinkled throughout their lives, her presence to remain a gentle stain on their person. Her love is a flower planted inside of her children meant to grow and flourish under her nourishment and care.

A mother’s love is—

❛ Beautiful. ❜

She whispers, eyeing the handmade coffee mug a pair of much smaller and dainty hands crafted with nothing but love in their heart as they did so.

❛ It’s beautiful. I think I’ll have my tea in this before bed. I’ll have all my teas in this mug. ❜

A promise an oath.

A mother’s love is haunting.

She lingers everywhere, she knows all. She sees you in this lifetime and the next. Mother can sense her child’s distress, their secrets, their wrongdoings, she is capable of unimaginable strengths and has sight beyond her eyes. A mother’s child never has to speak of their hurt she simply knows. She can blindly feel out the wounds and make them go away, she can dig out confessions, mend your broken hearts, she sees you whether you see her.

A mother’s love is—

Haunting.

Much like this pain, this fear of having nothing she carries in her heart is haunting. The memories, the tiny laughter and small hugs, the finger paintings and old pacifiers. Nerf guns and action figures left untouched. Empty beds and hollow echo chambers of her never ending guilt. She couldn’t protect them.

❛ I couldn’t save them… ❜

A mother’s love is terrifying.

She can become your worst nightmare if you will it. A mother goes to the ends of the earth to protect her children, there isn’t anything she wouldn’t do. Her gentle and caring hands can become weapons, her tongue once dripping with honey a poisonous dagger, her mind a cathedral filled with memories that fuel her rage. She can be a beautiful monster hiding in your closet just as she can be a watchful angel in your doorway.

A mother’s love is…terrifying.

❛ You couldn’t. But I–can. ❜

That twisted and disfigured monster holds out a hand to Mother. She is kind, and patient, she is warm and welcoming, like a mother should be but she burns with the fury of a thousand suns and her heart has hardened, her cathedral a prison. She knows Mother is scared but she wants to help. They want the same thing and Mother senses it. Mother knows…she knows what must be done and so she welcomes the monster with a warm embrace that becomes scorching hot, burning itself into her senses, tangling with her cells and fusing with her mind.

❛ Together we can save them. ❜

Mother allows the monster to invade her mind, to steal her memories and use them to guide them to their babies. Home. With their boys.

[nohj3]

"All molehills look like mountains when life shoves your face in the dirt."

This is a line i wrote back in highschool, that i literally never absorbed. I wrote it as an obvious logical conclusion to people trying to tell me i was making a lot of problems seem bigger than they were.

I wrote a lot of lines like that at the time, it was an unhealthy coping mechanism, i simply shut out everyone who ever tried to talk to me about things i honestly should've talked about. Because it was... Easy. Easier than facing my problems. Simply out talk others, out write others, showcase i already have a perfect understanding of the situation to a level beyond what they were prepared to even provide, And then Just... Don't actually listen to my own self.

But this line, This one was special. Because it was heard.

I stated it in response to a comrade-in-academia, And she... She loved it. She thought so highly of it. She asked me where i quoted it from. I was so stunned by the effect of her enthusiasm, i could utter nothing save "my brain". the piercing yet expressionless gaze of a human processing, was all i could see on her face. She didn't fully believe me.

"Write something for me," Her command caught me off guard, "I wanna see if you really can write like that."

"I uh... Don't think that's something someone can just like... Do? I gotta have something to write about, You know?" My excuse as legitimate in its technicality, as it was obvious in its evasiveness.

"Ok. Write about... Hmm... I don't know. What are you feeling?"

"Absolutely nothing," i lied, unwilling to admit the horrors kept barely contained by my skin thin attachment to the social conventions i barely understood. "I could show you something i already wrote. I-if that's fine with you..."

"Ok. What do you have?", she asked, barely containing her enthusiasm through lightly stimming the edge of the table.

As i began to sift through my ludicrously overstuffed And breaking apart backpack, i came upon a realization. She can judge me based on what i wrote. Keeping that in mind, i skipped over my primary writing notebook, knowing full well everything in there would easily betray my self-destructive tendencies. Skipping my stories written for school, skipping my stories written for my shows, skipping my stories written for myself. Nothing. There was nothing left.

I looked up from my skimming, hoping that maybe i took so long she got bored and wandered off. Her eyes, gushing with the feelings of excitement and anticipation, that her body didn't seem to know how to express properly, stared at me. Patiently. Trembling. I suppose she must really like reading subpar written works.

Hesitantly, i pulled out a story i wrote for a school assignment. Nothing weird. Fully sanitized. Boring prompt. Hoping maybe i would disappoint her and this entire social engagement would end. Dreading that maybe i would disappoint her and this entire social engagement would end.

She read slowly, Carefully, Concentrating more on how i wrote than what i wrote, speaking eventually to say, "you use waaaaay too many commas. I feel like every sentence should have been like... 3 maybe 5 sentences? Also your handwriting is so bad, so is mine though. Also this paper sucks. Terrible topic. Also-"

"S-srry...," i interjected, the feelings of inadequacy interwoven into every syllable, "i don't know what you were expecting. I get lucky sometimes, but usually i just suck and am bad."

"No! Nono!! I didn't mean to upset you!," she exclaimed, "i think you're really good, i would..." Her eyes distracted by seemingly nothing in the air, as she trailed off. She clearly wants to say something, but is hesitant. Scared even. She's avoiding feeling her current emotion by being pulled towards something, anything, else.

An out.

I needed little justification other than the thought i shouldn't impress or impose upon anyone. I slipped out through the corner of her eye. Whatever she wanted of me, i clearly wasn't capable of providing. I'm nothing, Insignificant, Meaningless.

All the emotions of the situation becoming blurry and faded in mere seconds. Replaced by the all familiar, all encompassing, all potent, wall of self-hatred and self-disregard. Of course, it was stupid to think for even a second that i was happy someone cared enough to ask about my interests. They weren't even caring, probably just pitied me. A kindness i don't deserve, and it is simply morally correct of me to have removed myself so she doesn't have to taint her functioning deserving emotional psyche with my ugly presence. I've got to be more careful to not let my desires and needs, drag others into such a state as to fool themself into thinking i am worth their time.

The then-normal omnipresent depressive crushing darkness, i possessed such high quantities of, was strong, but in this one instance it wasn't strong enough to fully delete everything. Her eyes. Even today, those eyes are such a core memory, They burn in my brain. Pure unfiltered excitement. Because of me. Me. I loved it. I wish to see it more.

I'm so motivated, to see that look. To impress. To excite. Its scary, but it's also... It gives me life. Humans are such cute creatures, I love them. I want to see them happy.

Nywys, i was just reminded of that phrase, And i guess i wanted to talk about it. Sue me.

[letarasstuff]

"I don't wanna leave you, Daddy"

(A/N): This was requested by an Anon and it's based on this concept. I hope you are ready for the feels.

Summary: Hotch's daughter is an introvert. A quiet one. But why does she go even quieter after her mother's death?

Warnings: So much hurt. Angst. Fluff. It's bitter sweet.

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

(Y/N) never really was an outgoing person. Even since she was able to walk and talk, she still clung to her parents. She refused to play on the playground when other children were there. Socializing was just not her thing. Her parents were sure that she would never be the person to stand up and perform on stage spontaneously. And it is ok.

This doesn’t really change when Jack comes around. Sure, as he grows older and more capable of things (Y/N) plays with him. But it really seems like he is the only one around her age she is not afraid to befriend.

Aaron and Haley reassure themselves that their daughter will find friends in elementary school. After all this is an institution where many children go to and there also are adults trained for helping them coming along. She definitely will find at least one other kid to hang out with regularly and learn how to be a proper child. Because as of right now (Y/N) is more like a little adult, taking responsibilities, like watching over her little brother, she doesn’t need to do voluntarily. Maybe she will be more messy, rebellious, anything but a perfect child.

But this doesn’t exactly happen. (Y/N)’s teachers are really happy with her. Every parent-teacher conference is about how well and polite she is, always behaving good and following the rules. Sadly, they don’t have any good news regarding her social life. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with her classmates, it’s just that she isn’t able to strike up a conversation or is very good at keeping one long enough that a kid is interested in her.

Knowing that (Y/N) is mostly quiet in her school days, Aaron makes it a habit to bring her more often to the office. She surprisingly warms quickly up to his team and whenever she is around them the girl is an unstoppable tornado running loose around the bullpen.

This is kind of how she grows up until the age of middle school. (Y/N) learns some social skills and makes a few friends over the last few years. Unfortunately these friendships are not as deep as the parents wish, still it’s better than nothing.

Things get difficult when Aaron and Haley start to separate. It never is easy when parents fall out of love and it is not only difficult for Jack to see his father not as often as he used to, considering he still is a toddler needing both parents. Especially (Y/N), who is more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl, suffers from the situation at home.

Of course it’s hard on her to not see her father for a week or two at a time, but ever since her parents are going on parted ways she sees him at most one weekend every three weeks. This also changes her social life dramastically.

“(Y/N), don’t you wanna do something with your friends? You can invite them over for the weekend”, Haley suggests after watching her daughter not going out with somebody outside of school for several days. For the past two weeks the ten year old just comes home, does her homework and puts her nose in one of the books her Uncle Spencer recommended.

The girl only looks up at her mother to shake her head. “Why not, Sweetie? I haven’t seen William and John in so long. Are you still friends with them?” (Y/N) nods again. “So what is it? Are you guys fighting?” Haley sits down next to her on her bed.

“No, they just-just don’t know about this. I don’t want to tell them. And I want to stay home. It’s ok how it is right now”, she admits. Her mother’s heart breaks at that statement.

In this moment she realizes that anything a parent does has immediate consequences for the children. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t know this is so hard for you. Maybe you can talk to them over the next few days about it, I think it’ll help you. Do you want to watch a film with me for now? Jack has a sleepover at a friend’s. We can do a girl’s night. We hadn’t had one in a long time.”

(Y/N)’s eyes light up at that. “With all the candy in the world?” Haley smiles at the newfound excitement. “Of course. Anything you want.”

From only seeing Aaron every now and then it suddenly turns to not knowing when she will see him next. After George Foyet ambushes him and makes his family into the next target, (Y/N), her brother and her mother have to go into witness protection.

The goodbye at the hospital is painful and filled with tears. “But Dad, I don’t want to leave you. I’ll miss you too much. I don’t like not seeing you. And what about you? You will be more lonely and-and I can’t leave you”, she confesses, sobbing into him.

Hotch has to hold his own tears back. He doesn’t want to come over as stoic, but as the strong father figure he always tries to be. “Honey, I know I’ll miss you so much. You have to be strong for your mother. This will not be easy and I know it. I promise to do my best to get all of you back as soon as possible, ok? Please be good for your mother and behave. We all need to work together for you to get back fast and safely.”

(Y/N) continues to cry into his hospital gown. Aaron can’t help it and dissolves in tears himself while trying to calm her down. “Shh, Honey. Everything will be fine. I’m so so sorry for all this. I never wanted something like this to happen. Shh, we will see each other real soon. The team and I will do our best. Just please, don’t cry. Please, it all will be better. I can’t let you go without seeing your beautiful laugh for one last time.”

“I don’t wanna leave you, Daddy. I-I wanna stay with you and Uncle Dave and Auntie JJ and Uncle Spencer and Uncle Der and Auntie Penny and Auntie Em. I’m scared you won’t be fine when we come back.”

It’s needless to say that nobody cracked even a smile that day.

Going into witness protection made Haley worry about Jack especially. He is just four years old and she isn’t sure how much he understands about what’s going on. Surprisingly the boy gets accustomed to the situation pretty fast. Of course he misses his father and his people from school, but he is also quick to meet new ones in the town they moved to.

(Y/N) has bigger problems. New school. New kids. New everything.

“Maybe you can see it as a fresh start. Here is nobody you know. You can be whoever you want to be. I can take you shopping and you can try out a new style”, her mother tries to make the situation sound advantageous to her. But the girl dryly answers: “When somebody doesn’t like me how I am now, how will they like an act?”

Sam Kassmeyer regularly reports back to Aaron about his family’s well being. “Jack is thriving. His teachers describe him as a bundle of joy. (Y/N) slowly gets acclimated to the change. Haley told me she started making friends with a girl in their neighborhood. I already ran a background check and the family is clean.”

Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. He turns towards the image on Penelope’s monitor. “Happy fifth birthday, Buddy.”

A few weeks after that it seems like the events overturn each other.

Foyet coming back. Kassmeyer getting tortured. Foyet finding Haley and the children. Them coming back to their house. The call. Working the case with Jack. The gunshot. The fighting noises. Hotch opening the box and hugging both of his children, relieved to see them alive.

The following weeks are difficult for the now smaller family. They mostly consist of watching videos of happy memories and talking about their feelings. Although it’s more like Jack talking about his feelings, (Y/N) went mostly silent ever since their mother’s death. This worries her father more than anything.

Two months have gone by. “Hey Honey, I’m going into the office today. Do you wanna come with me, stay at home or go to school? Anything is fine by me”, he asks her softly, kneeling beside her chair at the table. The girl is munching on her cereal halfheartedly.

“Can I come to the office?” (Y/N) asks in a hoarse voice. It’s actually the first time in four days that Aaron hears her voice. A small smile forms on his face. “Of course, that’s nice. Aunt Penny is asking me after her favorite Hotchner for days on end now. And Uncle Spencer got a stack of books he has for you to read.”

His daughter nods and quickly gets ready. They are soon on their way to Quantico after dropping Jack off at daycare. “How are your classmates? Do you like the new school?” They decided to send (Y/N) to a different school. She couldn’t bear the thought of only being the girl whose Mom died because of a serial killer.

“It’s fine. There are a few girls who are really nice. I think we can be friends. Mo-” She suddenly cuts herself off. Aaron glances over at her. “Continue, Sweetheart. Just tell me what’s on your mind”, he tries to encourage her.

The girl hesitates before following her father’s advice. “Mom would have liked them,” she mumbles. It’s quiet for a few seconds. Hotch is looking for a suitable answer. After all it’s the first time she talked about her mother since her death. “I’m sure of it, Honey. Maybe you can invite them over and I can get to know them. Think about it, no pressure of course.” (Y/N) nods to indicate that she heard him.

Not long later they enter the bullpen. “There she is! My little Hotchner! How you doing, Baby?” Derek asks her and envelopes her into a hug. But she only shrugs her shoulders. This goes on for the rest of the day. Whenever anyone talks to her, the only answer is given by her body language.

Hotch watches helplessly Spencer trying to engage in a conversation with her. His arms and hands are waving around. (Y/N) though just looks at him without being really there mentally. It seems like she is lost in her own thoughts, like it happened so often over the last few months.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Dave asks, sitting down on the chair opposite of him. Aaron looks at him funny. “Of course. But (Y/N) is just not ready to talk about Haley and everybody grieves differently. I can’t force her to speak, Dave.”

The older agent leans back in his seat. “I don’t think she needs to talk about her. This probably is too soon. She needs to talk about you. The changes.” After a short pause, in which the other one still doesn’t get the point, Rossi continues. “That little girl just lost her mother. She is scared to lose her father, the one with the high risk job. I think that is enough to talk about.”

This occupies the agent for the remainder of the day. Aaron was so invested in fulfilling both parent roles, that he forgot that he is just a father. The man his children go to when they have a nightmare. The one, who is more lenient than their mother. He can’t be both ones. He can’t be two people in one.

A kid trusts a mother and a father usually. And he can’t be mother and father at once. Hotch has to accept the fact. The fact that (Y/N) and Jack are going to grow up without a mother. But luckily not without mother figures.

Later that day, after tucking Jack in, Aaron knocks on his daughter’s door. A small “Come in!” echoes back to him. He enters her room and spots (Y/N) already in her bed reading a book Spencer gave her today.

“Hey, do you have time before it’s lights out?” He asks, still wanting to give her the upper hand on this. The girl nods and scoots over for her father to take a place. He lays next to her, pulling his daughter into a hug.

“I know I can’t promise it. Coming back to you every time. You know it as much as I do. But I promise you to try anything and everything in the books. You guys keep me going.” Tears roll over both of their faces.

“I-I just”, (Y/N) moves her head onto his chest to sob into it, “Just don’t wanna lose you, too. I-I don’t think I-I can’t be the girl, who doesn’t have a mother AND a father. C-can you stop that from happening?” Hotch has to wipe his eyes before answering.

“I-I try to keep that from happening, Honey. I promise.”

This is how they fall asleep, squished in a twin bed close to each other. In the morning they both are overheated and got a visitor during the night. Jack wakes them up, asking why they had a sleepover without him.

This morning is the first time Aaron sees (Y/N) smiles since day zero.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 27 - When The War Comes [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns, knives, sharp objects, stabbing, hallucinations. 

Word Count: 7500

Summary: Who will you become?

You had to control your anger. You had to control the fire in your veins until you were sure that your niece was safe, that your family was safe, then—

Then you would handle this situation. Until then, it had to wait.

All the training your father had given you was basically screaming at you to attack the threat, but you managed to keep yourself from doing so while you followed him through the woods, paying close attention to your surroundings.

The cabin. This was the way to your father’s cabin in the woods.

You had counted ten armed men on the way here but you had to assume there were more scattered along the woods. You stepped over a tree root before you looked up at the night sky and quickly found the stars that would help you. Thankfully it was a clear night, and your father had taught you long before how to read the sky for direction, in case you needed to-

Hunt.

A shudder went down your spine but you quickly shook your head, you had no time for that fear lurking in your head.

Fear could wait until you made sure you and everyone back home survived.

Considering how your family had no boundaries when it came to you, you were one hundred percent sure that by the time tonight was over, they would arrive at your apartment to see where you were.

“So what is your game here?” you moved your wrists that he had bound the moment you two had reached the end of the road and got off the car to walk into the woods, “You take me there and what? You’ll kill me?”

He looked over his shoulder, “How can you ask me that?” he said and you raised your brows.

“How can I not ask you that?”

At least you could leave a note. Lincoln was just that stupid.

“They’ll come looking for me,” you told him as he rolled his eyes, still pointing the gun at you.

“Who, your boyfriend?”

“He works in the FBI, you fu—“ you had to remember to stop yourself. He had access to Lily, so you knew you had to play it along, even if you barely felt anything other than anger. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“You broke up with him once, you can do it again,” he said and pointed at the pen and paper on the kitchen island, “Just write you need some time or whatever, he can see it when he gets here. Less suspicions.”

You grabbed the pen and paper, then clenched your teeth, your mind working nonstop.

“I’m waiting, Y/N.”

You stole a look at him, then leaned in to write on the paper;

Hamlet,

I need some time alone.

Ophelia.

Ophelia died in a lake, and you hoped that Spencer could make the connection between that and the time you had told him about Lincoln pushing you into the lake by the cabin.

He took a look at the note, then made a face.

“You call him Hamlet?” he said, shaking his head, “I never really liked that play. Let’s go.”

“Do you seriously think I would harm you, in any way?” he asked when you got to the stone stairs leading to the cabin, “I will explain everything once we sit down.”

“Will you untie me?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he answered as you climbed the stairs after him, his grip on your arm almost too tight and you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from coming up with a comeback. You looked up at the cabin, the memory of the last time you were there hitting you out of nowhere and churning your stomach, but you managed not to throw up as he slightly pushed you through the open door.

Don’t be scared, you commanded yourself in your head Fear is useless.

That was one of the things your father had taught you during those predator and prey games. Prey always got scared, which led them to panic, which led them to making mistakes that would cost them their lives.

You were a predator. You had always been a predator, since you were a child, and there was no fucking way Lincoln of all people could turn you into a prey.

He pulled a chair, then motioned at you to sit down.

“Remember, if you try anything…” he said, “If I don’t send the code to my friend—“

“Yeah, you’ll hurt my niece,” you spat, “Some man, aren’t you? Threatening a kid.”

He untied your hands, then pulled them behind the chair and started tying them again, and you raised your brows slightly.

Rather than wrapping the rope around your wrists separately then pulling them together, he was just tying them together, which was a terrible rookie mistake your father would never have done. Escaping from those, especially with a rope was almost easy with enough knowledge, and you slightly widened the gap between your wrists by pressing your thumbs together, not wide enough to make him suspicious but wide enough to give you enough space to move your wrists when you wanted to get rid of the ropes.

Almost everything was automatic at this point, you were following everything your father had made sure to engrave into your mind.

“There, that’s better,” he said and let out a breath, a small smile pulling at his lips, “Hi.”

You tilted your head, looking at him silently.

“That was a bluff by the way. I would never hurt anyone you love, I thought you knew that by now.”

That seemed to distract you from the fury, “What?”

“Everyone that I killed,” he pulled a seat for himself so that he could sit across from you and leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees, “Everyone, that was for you. I did it for you. Don’t you see that? From that childhood friend to your douchebag ex?”

Oh God you were going to be sick.

Spencer was right. You were sitting with the copycat killer back there, at the charity auction.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he ran a hand through his hair, “You told me what was happening, when we were kids. You told me a week before that night in the graveyard, that’s how your father let me come with you both. My parents had drunk too much at your parents’ party— you don’t remember any of that? I was the one who you shared that sacred secret with, no one else, not even your family. It was me.”

“Sacred?” you repeated, “My father was a monster, Lincoln.”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, the glare in his eyes sharpening, “Never say that. He…he is way ahead of all of us, if he didn’t get caught he’d be an even bigger legend than he already is. He brought us together.”

“You brought me here by threatening me and you tied me to a chair. My father is a terrible person, but this right here is your choice you fucking asshole.”

“Because I need you to understand,” he nodded to himself, “You will understand.”

“I will understand what?”

“That I did this for us!” he snapped and he swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath, “That I love you.”

A hysterical laugh escaped from your lips and you gawked at him.

“You love me,” you repeated, “You— you have been terrorizing me for months, you killed people, you fucking destroyed my life because you love me?”

“I’ll set you free,” he said, “Free of all these bounds everyone else put you into. I’ve seen your potential back when we were still kids, then after your father was arrested they turned you into something else, some shadow of what you’re capable of. Then I came back and you…” he ran a hand over his face, “You decided to get into an agent’s bed.”

“Don’t even—“

“He would try to change you,” he cut you off, sniffling, “He would, Petal. He would smother you with these stupid ethical rules and all that bullshit, but I’ll— we’ll be free together.”

If your last encounter with your father had taught you anything, it was that delusional killers didn’t exactly react well to a reality check. You moved your hands under the ropes, pulling at them just a little.

You would just have to play along until you were free, then you could be out of there.

The more you know about your prey, your father’s voice echoed in your ears, The easier it will be to take them down.

“How about your girlfriend?”

His head shot up and he shrugged,

“I mean,” he trailed off, “She thinks she’s my girlfriend.”

You gritted your teeth. “Erica,” you said, “Right. My girlfriend doesn’t have the same financial status as we do, huh? My fucking assistant, Lincoln? What did you offer her?”

“Offer her?” he asked, “I didn’t have to offer her anything. Who did you think your father’s outside source was?”

You pulled back slightly and he scoffed a laugh.

“I know,” he said, “She wants to kill you, not that I would ever let her, but she can believe that for the time being. I know you feel betrayed honey—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“But we only need her until a point, after she makes a phone call to get your family off our backs, she will be my gift to you.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms to remind yourself to focus, “Your gift?”

“There’s nothing like killing someone you know,” he dragged the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, “It’s not like strangers, not at all. That shit’s special, Petal. You’ll see when the time comes.”

Before you could even think of an answer, you heard the footsteps coming closer and the door opened, making you turn your head to see Erica who almost looked intimidated for a moment upon seeing you, but she managed to pull herself together.

“You might want to check out the west team,” she told Lincoln and he paused.

“Can I trust you with this?”

Erica frowned, “You can trust me with anything, you know that,” she said softly and you closed your eyes for a moment, pulling at the ropes tight enough to hurt before you felt it get loose just a little. The rough material of the ropes almost burnt your skin the more you kept moving your hands, but you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore it.

You heard the door close and the lock sliding into its place as you opened your eyes, and saw Erica putting the key into her pocket.

“I like your dress,” she said as she sat down, “Too bad it’ll get bloody.”

“You were my father’s outside source?” you asked, trying to ignore her comment, “You?”

She gave you a bright smile, and rested her arm on the back of the chair, making herself comfortable.

“That’s right.”

“Whatever he’s paying you—“

“He’s not paying me,” she spat as if she was insulted at the implication, “You ungrateful little bitch. I’m doing this because I want to, because I respect him. I believe in what he stands for, not like you would understand.”

“Jesus, you’re one of those freaks,” you muttered to yourself, tugging at the ropes around your wrists, “Serial killer groupie huh?”

“I’m not a groupie,” she spat,  “I respect your father, not just any serial killer. It’s him. No one in your family deserves him, much less you, and—“ she shook her head, “The way you disrespect him and his name…”

“Disrespect him?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s rich.”

“He was right, you know?” she said, “Only the smart and strong is supposed to survive in this world, not weak. And he tried to raise you to follow in his footsteps, but you were too weak to do so. He just doesn’t see that.”

You clicked your tongue, “But you see that?”

“If he were my father,” she leaned in, gritting her teeth, “It doesn’t matter. By the time this is over, after I get rid of you and prove myself, he will see me as a daughter. Not you. You’re not strong enough to survive in our world. Lincoln agrees—“

“Lincoln is using you,” you cut her off, “He’s going to get rid of you as soon as he’s done. Let me guess, he told you you could kill me?”

“We’ll make you regret disrespecting father’s name first, then I will kill you, yes.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” you said, “Face it, you fucking idiot. He’s using you, just like my father is using—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when she lunged from her seat and slapped you across the face, her ring splitting your lip. You made a face, and spat out the blood filling your mouth, trying to ignore the sting on your tongue upon biting it.

“You know what?” she asked, “Lincoln always said no for some reason, but if you keep going like that, I can make you hurt really bad.”

“Aw sweetheart, you don’t have enough training for that,” you cooed, “What, you did some google search, looked up my father’s methods and now you think you can torture people? You think that’s how it goes?”

“I didn’t say it’d be physical,” she curled her lips, “You wouldn’t want your family to get hurt, do you?”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, that fire awakening at the pit of your stomach. She tilted her head, obviously pleased with your reaction.

“I suggested Lily instead of your ex….Anthony, was it? I said we should kill her and put her in the middle of your living room back then, but Linc said no. He said it’d hurt your father too.”

A numbness spread over your forehead, then went to the back of your head, reaching your spine as you blinked a couple of times.

“You were going to kill my niece?” you heard yourself ask and Erica crossed her legs.

“I bet that would’ve made you think twice before you disrespected John.”

You could almost feel it. Feel the fury taking over, that anger your father had always insisted you possessed roaring through you until it reached your heart, wrapping itself around it tighter and tighter.

Let the predator come out Petal, your father used to say Let it come out.

You rolled your shoulder back and cracked your neck with your eyes closed, an exact copy of your father as you twisted your hands under the ropes before you opened your eyes again to look at Erica.

“You don’t deserve him,” she insisted, “You all—you all just locked him away and forgot about him until Linc came back, until we started this. He will see soon that blood means nothing, me and Linc are going to be his legacy, not you.”

You tugged a little harder around the knot, then turned your wrist and managed to pull it out of the tight rope even if it scratched the skin over your wrists, making the burn spread over your arm.

“He taught you some stuff, big fucking deal,” she said, “I learned by myself. Without anyone to help me. Without someone else holding my hand.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the throbbing as you slowly pulled your other hand out of the knotted rope.

“Yeah you missed a rule though,” you asked, dragging the tip of your tongue over the dried blood on your lip, “You’re not supposed to make them bleed unless you can kill them.”

Erica pulled her brows together, then a shriek escaped from her lips as soon as you let the rope fall, raising your hands in a mocking manner so that she could see.

“You chose the wrong victim, baby,” you said and she kicked the chair at you, then darted for upstairs, screaming while you just raised your brows, rolling your eyes.

Panic always led to mistakes like these, like rushing to somewhere one couldn’t escape from.

Upstairs was always a bad idea.

You made your way to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer where your mother used to keep the knives, then grabbed a huge knife before you flipped it in your hand.

“Erica,” you called out, “Get back here, you’re fucking fired!”

She slammed a door upstairs and you scoffed a laugh, adrenaline pulsing through you as you dragged the tip of the knife over the walls, climbing the stairs.

“You know, if you give me the key I might make it quick,” you flipped the knife again, playing with it before you ran it over the steel staircase finial, letting her hear the sharp noise, “No promises though.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in here,” you sang, looking into the dark. Your father had taught you this long ago, if you couldn’t see, you had to make sure how to listen in the dark to find the location of whoever you wanted to hunt.

You took a deep breath and held it, not even moving a muscle and sure enough, a very faint creak reached your ears and you turned your head.

Second door to the left.

It used to be Mina’s room.

You let out a whistle echoing in the otherwise silent hall, disappearing into the dark before you stood in front of the door and ran the tip of the knife over the wood, almost relishing the slight whimper coming from the other side of the room.

“You were going to go after my family?” your voice rose as you kicked at the door, and Erica let out another scream.

“Lincoln!”

“Oh come on, where’s that strong survivor you’ve been telling me so much about?” you taunted, kicking at the door again but it didn’t open. “Hm? I thought you were going to prove yourself?”

“I-I swallowed the key, I can’t give it to you!”

“Ah well, I guess I’ll have to cut you open!” you shouted and kicked at the door once again and at last, the lock broke with a click and the door swung open, hitting the wall. Erica grabbed the chair closest to her, holding it up.

“Don’t!”

You flipped the knife in your hand, the grinned and took a step to her, so focused on adrenaline pulsing through your system that you didn’t even notice her eyes focusing on something over your shoulder until it was too late. Before you could even turn around, someone pulled you back, expertly avoiding the knife by bending your arm back and pressed a cloth over your mouth and nose, that sharp scent making you gag.

Chloroform.

Lincoln.

A tingling reached your head and that fuzzy warmth reached the back of your head, then closed your eyes shut.

                                                ***

You had no idea how long it took you out, but when you opened your eyes, it was still night. You grabbed at the side of your head and sat up in the bed, the whole room spinning around you.

Your childhood bedroom. You were in your childhood bedroom in the cabin.

“Hey,” Lincoln’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see him leaning on the doorframe.

Shit.

That was a mistake. Of course that was a mistake, and you couldn’t even believe yourself just how stupid you had been to act so careless.

“Easy, chloroform messes you up,” Lincoln said, “I’d stay in the bed for a while if I were you. You can’t attack anyone like this, you know?”

You weren’t supposed to follow your dad’s example in a situation like this. There was a reason why he was locked away, a reason why people had caught up with what he was doing, he was way too impulsive, way too destructive in terms of physical means. You had been so focused on protecting your family and going after the nearest threat that you had forgotten who you were.

You weren’t just your father’s daughter, you were also your mother’s.

And this right here? It wasn’t your father’s expertise yet, his time would come when you would have to fight your way out.

It was your mother’s.

Manipulation.

It was time to channel her, not your father.

“What happened?” you asked and Lincoln heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off the doorframe.

“You went after Erica,” he said, “She’s pretty shaken, but I told you Petal. You need to be patient, we just need her up to a point. After that, she’s all yours.”

You narrowed your eyes and slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair.

“And how much longer will I be subjected to this humiliation of yours? Can you give me an exact time or should I just wait here?”

He stared at you for a moment, trying to understand what you meant and you just arched a brow, a look of completely nonchalant sneer flashing over your face, the exact same expression you had seen on your mother countless times.

“I’ll take this silence as a no.”

“Humiliation?” he repeated, “When- how did I humiliate you?”

“How did you humiliate me?” you scoffed a laugh, “Are you serious right now?”

Jesus, your head was absolutely killing you but you had to focus.

“I’d never humiliate you, I love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved a dismissive hand in the air, “You love me, we’re supposed to be together. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it while ignoring your actions, is that it?”

“My actions? Y/N—“

“So you bring me in here,” you cut him off, glaring at him, “You give me this whole speech about how you’d do anything for me, how we’re—we’re meant to be, and then you leave me in the same room with your ex so that she can boast about you? How you two are in love, how you two are together?”

“I told you, we just need her until—“

“That’s your love?” you interrupted him again and pushed yourself to stand up, crossing your arms while looking him dead in the eye, “Is that the proof of your love? Rubbing your girlfriend on my face? All the while she talks about how you two are going to be my father’s legacy together, like I don’t exist?”

“She just thinks that, I made her think that so that we can use her—“

“And then,” you said through your teeth, “You stop me and knock me out while I’m going after her to get rid of her?” you clapped your hands slowly, “Yeah. Proclamation of love right there Linc, congratulations.”

He licked his lips, obviously taking aback. “Y/N, we need her for now.”

“Mm hm, exactly,” you shot him a sweet smile “Looks like you need her a lot.”

“Not like that,” he shook his head, “Not what you think, I swear. She’s nothing.”

“No, I think she’s not nothing,” you clicked your tongue, “I think you formed some sort of attachment to your prey—“

“I didn’t!”

“Because you grew soft for her, and now you’re confused whether you want me more or her.”

He strode to you in three steps and pulled you closer, tilting your head up, and you had to command yourself not to make a face.

“I want you,” he said, “I always have, you know that.”

“Bullshit.”

He groaned, “Y/N-“

“No, it’s fucking bullshit.” You pushed his hands away, and searched your mind for the final nail on the coffin.

“Did you sleep with her?”

The expression on Lincoln’s face shifted and he averted his eyes.

Bingo.

“Did you? While you were in love with me, while you knew that we were meant to be, did you or did you not sleep with her?”

“You slept with that agent,” he shot back and you shook your head.

“I didn’t know you would do anything for me,” you insisted, “I had no idea—you said you had a girlfriend, I barely remember anything from my childhood let alone sharing so much with you and you didn’t tell me. But you knew,” you dug your finger into his chest, “You knew everything and you kept it hidden from me, so answer me this, did you sleep with her? While you knew you were in love with me?”

He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, then closed it again, and you took a step back, trying to look heartbroken.

“Wow.”

“Y/N.”

“Wow. You actually did.”

“Listen to me, she doesn’t mean anything, I swear to you. It was just to manipulate—“

“Get out of my room.”

He frowned, “What?”

“Get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone until you’re ready to show me you actually love me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he started and took a step towards you, but you grabbed the nearest object which turned out to be one of your old dusty plushies and threw it to him.

“Get out!” you yelled and he took a step back, raising his hands.

“I’ll… I’ll come back when you’re calmer,” he said and closed the door behind him, and you lost your balance, falling on your knees.

People were just so easy to manipulate, thanks to your mother.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “Thanks mom, time for dad’s turn.”

Weapons.

You reached under your bed to take a look at the secret compartment that your dad used to make you put your knives, but it was of course empty. Lincoln was stupid when it came to you, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, apparently. You pushed yourself off your knees and stood up, then closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to clear your mind.

Your father had taught you this long before, in every room, there was something you could use as a weapon or turn into one.

You took a deep breath, exhaled it and opened your eyes.

It would have to be something precise, Lincoln had a point, you were in no shape to get into an actual fight with him. So you would need something sharp, and something that you could hide in either your sleeve or somewhere easily reachable. Something that Lincoln wouldn’t see until the next time.

You could tear down the bed to get to the bed springs, but it would take a long time and there was the danger of him walking in on you.

There was a chair and your post-its, some tape, small notebooks by the corner, hair ties and a music box on the desk in front of the window—

The music box.

The music box had a mirror.

“There you are,” you muttered to yourself as you took the music box, then grabbed the tape and your hair ties. You checked the door, then sat down, covered the mirror with the long skirt of your dress, then pushed on it with your elbow until you heard the small noise of the mirror breaking. You pulled back and uncovered it, then grabbed the longest shard, ripped out a couple of pages from your notebook and started taping it around the shard before you wrapped your hair ties around it so as not to let it slip or hurt your hand.

By the time you heard Lincoln’s footsteps coming upstairs, you had spent almost an hour preparing your weapon. You looked up, then closed the music box and put it back before tucking your newly made weapon under the lacy sleeve of your dress, and got on the bed, leaned your back to the bedframe and crossed your arms.

“Petal?” Lincoln called out and you gritted your teeth and turned your head when he peeked his head in.

“Hey, do you want to join me for some food downstairs?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Depends. Will your girlfriend be joining us?”

“I knocked her out and put her in your dad’s basement,” Lincoln said, “She will stay there until you feel like getting rid of her, and I won’t stand in your way this time. Okay?”

He offered you his hand and you eyed it, then pushed it away and managed to stand up on your own.

“Still dizzy?”

“A little,” you confessed, “Still angry too.”

Lincoln chuckled and heaved a sigh, “We need to talk about this jealousy of yours babe.”

You managed to control your expression and ignored him as you went downstairs. The rug was pulled to the side so that you could see the hidden door to the basement, but it was closed. You looked at the table in the middle of the living room that was covered in food, and there was a vase of jasmine flowers between the lit candles. You were still sure that you couldn’t engage in an actual fight until the chloroform was completely out of your system, but you didn’t have to worry about it since Lincoln seemed not to put any knives on the table. Your dad’s old vinyl was playing by the corner, the soothing melody creating a complete contrast with what was happening.

“A dance before dinner?” he asked you, “Come on. That dress needs to be used in a dance, don’t you think?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders and took his hand, then wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer before you started swaying with the melody.

You just needed an exact time for him to lower his defenses completely, because you only had one shot at this.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

“You have no idea how much I waited for this,” he said, “When I was in Italy, I would….dream of this at night.”

You didn’t answer, you just made sure to keep your wrist at an angle so that the mirror shard wouldn’t slip.

“And when I came back and saw you for the first time in that red gown…” he murmured, “I thought I would drop dead. You were even more beautiful than I pictured.”

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” you asked absentmindedly and he shrugged.

“I didn’t know how you would react.”

“And all those people who died?”

“Some of them were diversion,” he said, “Some of them were chosen. I promised myself no one could make you sad, ever. I would’ve killed that agent too if he was the one to break up with you, but then you said it was your choice, and… I don’t know. I thought it’d raise suspicions.”

Spencer.

He had considered killing Spencer.

Goosebumps rose on your skin but you reminded yourself to stay calm and focus, you had already slipped once because of your anger, you wouldn’t get a second chance.

“What about Anthony?” you asked, “You killed him… was it to frame me?”

“God no,” he said, shaking his head, “Of course not. Erica thought it was revenge for how you were treating John, but I wanted to make you remember how it felt to be in the scene of your father’s doing, how….how powerful it made you feel. I thought that would make you see how everyone around you was trying to make you into something you’re not. Deep down, Y/N, you’re just like me. That’s why we will be legends.”

A bitter taste appeared at the back of your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“And my father?”

“He knew we were supposed to be together,” he said, “He knew you would need a…companion in this. Us, free together. That’s why your father failed, because he couldn’t share who he was with your mother. It won’t happen with us, ever.”

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

You moved your wrist so that the shard could slip low enough for you to hold it and Lincoln leaned in slightly, his eyes closing.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled.

“Oh Lincoln,” you murmured, your heart beating in your ears, “You should’ve known better.”

With that, you drove the shard right into his stomach, making him gasp and open his eyes. Betrayal was written all over his face, it was very clear he hadn’t expected it as you twisted the shard, making him lose his breath before you pulled it back, blood splashing over your face and your dress. You shoved him, making him lose his balance and fall down, taking the coffee table with him, causing some noise and as if on cue, Erica started screaming his name from the basement.

“Erica, shut up before I come down there and break your fucking neck!” you called out and the screaming stopped.

“Thank you,” you said and turned to grin at Lincoln who was breathing hard, his face pale.

“Y/N—“

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t die right away,” you said, “Dad taught me that one, ages ago. I stabbed you in the stomach, and it’s a pretty thin shard, so it’s not the blood loss that will kill you. It’ll be the toxic shock, because right now everything in your stomach including acid is contaminating your system. Should be fun, huh?”

“Why did you—“ he coughed, and you snapped your fingers.

“Hold that thought, I gotta get something from the kitchen,” you said and walked to the kitchen to open the drawers, then grabbed some knives and scissors before you want back to the living room, “Yeah, you were saying?”

“We’re meant to be,” he managed to say, trying to breathe and you hopped on the table before you cut the floor length skirt, ripping it out.

If you were going to run through the woods, you needed to be in something you could easily move and fight in.

“Nah we’re not,” you said, “You’re delusional, that’s it.”

“Petal—“

“See, I could’ve gone easy on you,” you said, wrapping the cloth around your injured wrist, “Really. I could’ve just escaped and handed you to the FBI and be done with it, but no. You two had to bring my family and Spencer into this so now,” you tut-tutted, “Now you get to suffer.”

“He doesn’t understand you,” he said, pressing on the wound and leaning his head back to the wall, “He never will, not like I do. We’re meant to get rid of every weak person in the world, everyone who deserves to die.”

You let out a laugh, now wrapping the cloth around your knuckles, “Uh huh.”

“You’re meant to be the legacy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just meant to be a wedding planner,” you pointed at him with the knife and walked to him to grab the key from his pocket, then you pulled his boots off his feet, took off your heels and started getting into his boots.

“Petal, we’re supposed to be together.”

“Because my insane sadistic father said so?”

“Because I know you.”

You looked up from the boots you were tying as tight as possible, “Hm? You know me?”

“I do.”

You put two of the knives in each boot and jumped down to rock on the balls of your feet, trying to see if you could move well.

“That’s your first mistake buddy,” you said, now wrapping the rope over your boots, “See if you knew me, you wouldn’t be so careless, would you? You took me here and what? You didn’t think I’d kill my way out? You didn’t think I’d turn you and your serial killer groupie partner into my prey?” You pulled at the rope, “Honestly, you two fucked with the wrong legacy.”

“I don’t—“

“My father raised me to be unstoppable,” you said, “And apparently you know that. So you should’ve considered that it’d take more than two copycats to take me down, and—“ a manic laughter escaped from your lips, “Did you seriously think you could beat me at my own fucking game?”

He coughed, making a face and closed his eyes.

“You have hours until you die, but if I make it out on time, maybe I’ll send some medics here. Maybe. Depends on if I feel merciful, who knows?” you grinned, “Your survival depends on my mood, isn’t that ironic?”

“There are ten men between here and your weekend house, you’d never make it out.”

“I’m not going north,” you said and Lincoln frowned.

“South? That’s just woods.”

“No, it’s a longer way than north, but there’s a road at the end. Dad once made me find my way through the woods.”

“You can’t leave me behind,” he coughed again, “We’re meant to be together. We’re meant to work together and kill together, that’s our love story.”

You pursed your lips, then grabbed a jasmine from the vase and walked towards him.

“Even if I wanted to follow in that monster’s footsteps,” you said, looking down at him, “Even if I wanted a companion, it wouldn’t be you. You’re fucking dead weight, Linc. You don’t have what it takes.”

With that, you let the flower drop on him, unlocked the door and stepped outside, the chill air filling your lungs. After looking around to see whether it was safe, you went to the back of the house, and looked up at the stars, calculating which way to go.

Then, you tied your hair up and started running.

                                             ***

As it turned out, Lincoln had fewer men on the south of the woods, but there were still people. You had gotten rid of two of them and tied them up with the rope you had taken with you, but it would take one mistake for them to drag you back to the cabin, so you couldn’t take any risks.

You heard the faint noise of a radio and looked over your shoulder, then climbed up to the nearest tree, keeping as silent as possible. The light of a flashlight soon lit up under you and a man came into your view.

“South number five is clear,” he said into the radio and as soon as he put it into his pocket, you jumped down silently, standing behind him for a moment before you smacked his head into the tree, making him pass out. You unwrapped a part of the rope and tied his hands and feet before you stuck the cloth around your arm into his mouth so that when he woke up he wouldn’t be able to ask for help. You let out a breath and walked deeper into the woods, but as soon as you jumped over a tree root, someone grabbed you by the hair and slammed you head first into the tree. A ringing echoed in your ears, getting louder and louder but you managed to pull the knife from your boot and drive it into his leg, making him grunt and you used your whole body weight to turn around with his arm around you, popping it out of its socket and he dropped you with a yelp, kicking you in the ribs and a fire spread from your ribs into your whole body, making you stop the scream at the last minute.

“You fucking bitch-“ he said but as soon as he grabbed you again, you managed to push yourself up and grab the rest of the rope you had left. You kicked him back and jumped on his back, wrapping the rope around his neck as he tried to get you off.

“I’m not killing you you fucking idiot!” you grit out as he slammed back into the tree to get you off, “I’m making you pass out, that’s all!”

Soon enough, he dropped to his knees and fell to the ground while you tried to catch your breath, but everything hurt. You wiped at the blood that was seeping from the cut on your forehead, drenching your face and your dress but managed to tie him up and get away from him.

It didn’t take you long though. It felt like the whole forest was spinning around you and you felt someone pulling the ground from under your feet before you fell back, your eyes closing.

You had no idea how long you stayed there unconscious but the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired made you open your eyes with a gasp as you winced at the pain pulsing through your whole body.

“It doesn’t sound so good.”

You slowly turned your head to see your father sitting by the tree, his arms crossed and you let out a groan.

“Is this hell?” you asked, “I just died and it’s hell, right? There’s no way I’m hallucinating about you.”

“You didn’t die yet,” your father said as he looked at the way the shot was fired. “I assume you didn’t search for Lincoln’s gun before you walked out of the cabin?”

“Lincoln can’t move,” you said and your father tut-tutted.

“Erica could move just fine the last you saw her though.”

“Shit.” You closed your eyes for a moment and your father heaved a sigh.

“So what do we have here?” he said, “Head injury, concussion, loss of blood, and that guy over there just broke a rib or two, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone coming at you with a gun when you’re like this.”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes burning.

“I can’t move,” you managed to say through your teeth, “It hurts.”

“Does it hurt enough to kill you? Because that’s what will happen if she and her men find you here.”

You tried to blink back the tears, “What if it’s supposed to end this way?”

“Supposed to end this way?” your father stood up and glared down at you, “Petal, I didn’t spend years to train you just so that you could die in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Get up.”

“Dad, I tried to survive, okay?” you said, “I tried—”

“Well, that’s not enough right now, is it though?” he asked and snapped his fingers, “You’re a survivor, your mother and I made sure of that. Stop acting like a prey, get up.”

“Dad-“

“Get up!” his voice shot through your head and you opened your eyes again, coughing, that ringing in your ears due to the pain blocking out everything but the gunshot that sounded much closer than before. You dug your fingernails into your palms and pulled yourself up by grabbing at the nearest tree, then wiped the blood off your face again.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay, Stop acting like a prey. Which way to go?”

You looked up at the night sky and found the star you were looking for before you started making your way through the forest, even if it felt like you could pass out any second. You had no idea how long you had been walking when all of a sudden the brightness of flashlight entered your vision, making you hold your breath and grab the handle of your knife tighter, thinking that it was Lincoln and Erica’s men.

It was only when you saw a very familiar face wearing an FBI vest that you let out the breath you were holding, the knife slipping from your grip.

“Spencer?” you rasped out and he just stared at you before he started running to you.

“You’re alive,” he managed to say before he pulled you into a tight hug, making you wince in pain. He pulled back immediately, his hands cradling your head.

“Are you—“

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. It happened in less than a second, but the sound of a gunshot that rang through the forest echoed in your ears before blood splattered over his face, making you stumble as if someone pushed you from behind.

“Why is there blood?” you managed to ask before a fire spread through your chest, taking your breath away and Spencer’s eyes widened as he lowered them to the gunshot wound bleeding on your chest. Everyone ran past you, yelling something into the radio and shooting their guns at someone behind you while the fire made its way through your whole system, the ringing in your ears getting worse.

The last thing you remembered was Spencer catching you before you hit the ground but whatever he was saying to you got drowned out in the loud noise of the helicopter flying above you. The lights of it got brighter and brighter before a warmth pulled you out of the pain and surrounded you.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 28

[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

[shotorozu]

During the sports festival when everyone’s fighting against another student, I was wondering if you could do head cannons of Shinsou, Bakugou, and Mirio reacting to their quirkless crush that fights like a total badass against some bully student that underestimates her. She can whoop anybody and is a pro with close quarters combat so she has inhuman reflexes, strength (can yeet boys bigger than her easily), and knows what to do against others with strong quirks when close enough so she’s scary when fighting but she’s actually a very sweet and mellow person when people initiate a friendly conversation with her but she doesn’t take to kindly to disrespectful mofos like Monoma or others trying to put her down for being quirkless. She loves being underestimated just to see the looks on her opponent’s faces after beating the dog shit outta them.

(I’m sorry that it’s a lot but I get very descriptive with things like this 😭, if you don’t want to do it just ignore it)

i love requests like this 🤠 i don’t like how some people portray Y/N as a doormat, so do i love powerful! Y/N? yup.

quirkless! reader whooping ass

characters : shinsou hitoshi, bakugou katsuki, togata mirio

fic type : headcanons [kinda angsty?? turns into mild fluff]

legend : [Y/N = your name] since anon said “she” i’ll make it f!reader. reader’s ability matches to anon’s description too

notes : still doing all of my requests 🤠 just be a lil more patient :))

　　　　　　　≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

shinsou hitoshi

he saw you in 1-A and sat there and wondered what your quirk was at first

then it dawned on him that you’re quirkless

would’ve been lowkey bitter if he didn’t already like you so much

he’s not bitter because of his feelings. you’re actually really sweet— it would feel like a crime to hate on you

but, you don’t tolerate any slander, nope. you will clap back if anything happens

anyways, he admires you a lot— since he can finally relate to someone.

since both you and him don’t really have ‘flashy’ quirks i mean,, you don’t really have one

he’s seen you study and train from afar so you could finally hone your abilities

and so that you could catch up with your class

so, safe to say— you’re capable.

but is he a lil worried when he sees that you’re up against someone that’s been tormenting you?

kinda.. but he knows he shouldn’t underestimate your abilities

so he sits back and watches you practically beat the shit out of your bully in the match

and he’s like ❤️👄❤️ wow

afterwards, he makes sure to check if you’re okay.

and it’ll take a while for him to finally confess his feelings, because.. insecurities

he’s so happy you said yes

if anyone teases you for having no quirk,

shinsou, like the lanky person he is— will tower over them and scare them off

(even if they were taller than him, they’d be a lil scared anyway)

man’s lowkey a bean stalk. your boyfriend of a bean stalk though 👁👁

bakugou katsuki

imagine the treatment bakugou would give you because you’re quirkless

(basically— he’ll treat you like shit)

he’ll think you’re the BIGGEST extra, like.. why are you even in the hero course??

eventually, you gain his respect of course.

and he can actually see why you’re on the hero course in the first place 

you remind him a lot about deku since your nose was always stuck in a book like him. 

but in the end, it was worth it because you were always in the top with momo when it came to written tests and stuff

your technique in battle— it’s just.. 

perfect

(kinda wants to copy your technique sometimes) 

katsuki experiences field day x1 because your opponent is monoma from 1-B

which is kinda funny because.. if you don’t have a quirk—

then what the hell is he gonna copy anyway 👁👁❓

monoma’s mouth is always running per usual

but there is no back talk once you’re done with him :))

katsuki experiences field day x2 when you throw monoma across the arena

in short? he’ll make you spar with him constantly

but then he’ll be a little soft with you, he just doesn’t realize it

it’s a subconscious thing with baku <3

togata mirio

treats you like royalty

i mean.. mirio’s kinda like a golden retriever ngl, always nice to everyone

so if you quip his interest— you’ll get the finest treatment

and if you’re quirkless?? it really doesn’t matter.

if you had the baddest quirk, it still wouldn’t matter. he’s not endeavor- he’s not looking at quirks and shit

he’ll always be there regardless of quirk power, but!!

you’re so cute :)) he likes watching you study, and practice techniques in your spare time

(it’s not weird when it’s mirio, because the genuine curiosity puts you at ease.)

is he a little worried when he sees that you’re partnered up with your long time bully in the sports festival

well—

he looks pretty chillax from the outside

but he’s actually really concerned. especially if their quirk is a little different

(like.. you don’t know their weakness so oops.)

but he knows he should trust you :) so he watches as you throw your bully across the floor

he’ll be very proud of you :))

it looks like he’s just being mirio when he scand your body with his hands

but this is him discreetly checking for wounds you didn’t report to recovery girl.

the sports festival alone causes the mutual admiration to blossom

and before you guys knew it— you’re dating.

you guys are powerful, but in different ways (couple goals oh my)

(you tried carrying mirio once, and to his surprise— you actually managed to do it)

overall? the best boyfriend. take care of each other :))

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading (sorry for the late answer anon omg)

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing

do not plagiarize my work :))

[winslctrg]

I Love You, With A Touch Of Tragedy And Quite Madly. (Mildred Ratched x Reader)

summary: a regular day at work turns out to be not so regular

a/n: this is for @sassicaismysupreme surpriseeee i was ur secret fic writer. Not important, but this is my first fic ever so i hope it is any good!

warnings: slapping, angst!

Your relationship with Mildred was a fairytale. You were all sunshine and blue skies. Though some clouds might be there with the occasional rainy day, there were rarely thunderstorms.

Mildred only added to your sunshine. She has been like some sort of rainbow hanging above your little heart island, making it a happier place. Rainbows are rare and special, and that’s also how you looked at Mildred.

It had always been happy. You were used to it like that, and you liked it that way. No complications, no anxiety, no fears, no anger. Mildred was some sort of safe haven where you just never had any problems. That's probably why the situation affected you so much.

It was one of those blue sky, happy sunny days. You opened your eyes, closed them again against the rays that fell right through your curtains. You couldn't be annoyed for long though, because your head immediately met your sleeping girlfriend's.

Your mouth fell into a soft smile upon seeing her. She always seemed to have that effect on you, no matter where you guys were. It once even happened at a funeral, and Mildred had to give u a soft warning glare. Not that that helped though, it only made you smile more. She made you smile. At home, at work, in the grocery store, on the street, at parties, anywhere at anytime. She was quite simply everything to you.

You pressed a soft kiss on her temple “Wake up darling, we’ll be late.” You whispered, before running your hand softly through her hair. The sun made her features even more gorgeous than they usually were, accentuating her sharp cheekbones and her beautiful big lips. Your hand left her hair and ran softly from the forming frown between her eyebrows all the way down to her nose before putting it on her now blushing cheeks.

“Goodmorning sunshine.” You giggled. A soft smile spread on Mildred’s face as she finally opened her eyes. Her brown eyes looked nearly gold because of the sun. You begged. Wished to stay like this forever, but the alarm went off, pulling you both out of your trances. You grinned at her before you sat up and grabbed her wrist. She positioned herself right in your arms. You let your nose slip into her beautiful reddish-brown hair, smelling her expensive shampoo.

You never got used to moments like these. They made your heart race, and you were sure it also grew 3 times bigger. “I love you” you whispered into her hair, as if making a promise to yourself that your heart would forever beat for her. “I love you too honey.” She said before yawning. “Aww are you sleepy baby?” you teased. “Did i wear you out last night?” your said, and you winked at her. Mildred glared at you, but you could see the pink tones covering her ears and cheeks. You kissed her softly, before pulling away again but resting your forehead against hers, noses touching. “We have to get ready.” You whispered. “I know.” She replied. She put her soft hands on your cheeks, as her long slender thumbs started stroking the area right beside your nose. “I love you.” You said again, just for the sake of reassuring your promise to her. She knew, because she smiled and when you looked deep into her warm brown eyes you saw that same promise. “I love you too, lets get dressed.”

You were in the car to work, both of you working at the hospital. Mildred drove, always. You did try once, but then nearly hit a car because you were too busy staring at her. You didn’t mind not driving, it meant you could stare at her without the posibillity of killing an entire family and their dog.

As you both arrived on the parking lot, you made sure your hat was on right and straightened Mildred’s too. You glanced around, saw nobody and kissed her. It always cleared your mind, kissing her. It seemed to draw out any negative feelings and fill your head with love, much like a love potion.

You both stepped out of the car and went to your respective entrances. You gave Mildred a small smile before parting.

Work went slowly, but good. You were good friends with Huck, and he made time speed up just a little faster, plus seeing Mildred at lunch really made you optimistic again.

After lunch, Mildred called you and Huck to a treatment room. There was a girl there, around your age, and she looked frightened.

“Nurse Finnigan, nurse y/l/n, this is miss Ruth Davis. She’s here because of unexplainable feelings towards women, which is simply unacceptable, don’t you guys think?” You pushed up an eyebrow and looked at Huck, who also had a confused expression on his face. “Well?” Mildred asked, a slight tinge to her tone now. Huck cleared his throat. “Yeah uh sure, unacceptable.”

You, however shook your head. “I don’t think she should be tortured simply for liking women. I don’t see a problem with it honestly.” You said as calmly as you could. You met Hucks gaze, saw his shocked eyes but also his slight grin. You averted your gaze to meet Mildreds eyes, saw a flash of panic. Panic? No, now it was definitely anger. “Nurse y/l/n thats incredibly inappropriate. I suggest you find another job if you think that way.” She said, her voice sounded a little too forced for your liking. “I’d gladly do, but um I know you don’t have a problem with it either.” You said and moved your head to look at the girl. “She doesn’t,” you told her. “I’d know-“

Before you had the time to finish your sentence, you felt a hard burning on your cheek and you stumbled tot he ground. She had hit you. Your mind was running 800 miles per second. You stared back up at her with tears threatening to come out of your eyes.

“I should’ve known it wasn’t real, right? That this was all a big game to you. That you didn’t actually care about me.” You whispered and you tried to lean on your shakey hands. “I’m sorry for believing you didn’t actually hate me, I’m sorry you had to keep your act up for so long. I just thought-“ your voice broke mid sentence. “I thought we were happy.” You blinked. Didn’t, couldn’t look at her. You opened your mouth to speak again, but instead a sob made it’s way out. You shook your head feverently and ran past her. “Don’t come after me.” You murmered as your shoulders touched. Away. Away. Away.

You didn’t know how long you had ran for, you wondered how you had even kept on going that far. Breathing was becoming, air scraping it’s way through your lungs, making them bleed. Doesn’t matter, you told yourself. It definitley wasn’t bleeding as badly as your heart

You only ever wanted to be hers. To watch the sunset with her ever night in the summer, and sit by the ocean just because you could. To give her hugs for warmth when she had underestimated the cool sting of the autumn air. To hold her hand on walks during the snow in the winter, and buy her the perfect christmas presents. To pick her some blooming daisies and lavender and violets in the spring and make a bouqet, just for her. You wanted to make her feel wanted.

You came to a halt as you realized where you had run to. Her house. Because that was home. She was. Your face crumpled and you started sobbing. You rand to the nearest wall to steady yourself, before giving up and letting yourself slide down the wall. You let your head fall in your hands and buried your shaking fingers in your hair.

“Yes, I’m scared of you! You hit me!” you screamed out, voice breaking halfway through out of frustration, anger and love. That one was hard to admit, but you knew you were mad because you loved her. Because you had spent months making a flower garden with all of your memories, and all that you knew of her, and all of your feelings, and she had just set it on fire.

“Look y/n I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do.” She said. Her voice was soft and you tried to listen for any sign of a lie. You couldn’t find any. You whipped your head up, glaring at her with such passion that even you were scared of what you were capable of. “You should’ve thought about that before you put you whole palm on my face, don’t you think?” you snarled. You saw her chin tremble, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “You know, you always tell your patients not to be afraid, but i don’t think there’s anyone that’s more scared than you. I know you are, don’t even pretend you aren’t. I know you.” You paused for a second, took a shaky breath in, cursed at yourself internally. “You might not know it, but I do. 4 months don’t just go by, Mildred. Neither for you nor for me.”

You saw a tear slip out of her eye. “I’m so sorry y/n. I do know. I do care. I’m sorry.” She breathed, and you could practically hear your heart break. “I don’t know what to do, but I do care. I can’t-“ her sentence got broken up by a big intake of breath, before a loud sob escaped her mouth. “I was so scared.” She cried. Your eyebrow pushed up. You should've known she was afraid, should've known she never agreed to do the therapy, should’ve known you burnt your own flowers the minute you started talking. But you were confused, and you felt hurt and you reacted on that.

You didn't even think about her feelings, if you were going to be honest with yourself. You wanted to feel guilty, but deep down you knew you couldn’t blame yourself. She hurt you, she hit you and that wasn’t going to be forgotten in a heartbeat.

But you loved her. More than anything. And so you tried to pick up all of the broken pieces, yours and hers, and tried to glue all of it into one big love ball.

“I’m not gonna say that its okay, Mildred, because it’s not and you know that.” You started. You saw her eyes scarily looking up into yours. You took a deep breath in before continuing. “But this doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore.” Her eyes watered again. “It doesn’t?” You shook your head. “No it doesn’t, but you try doing that again and I won’t give you another chance.” Mildred shook her head violently. “Alright, come on, we’ll go home.”

That night before you guys went to bed, you approached her.

“Mildred,” you said as she was going to the bathroom. She turned around, her beautiful curls falling just right over her shoulders. “Yeah?” she said. You smiled. “I love you.” She hid a small blush while turning back around. “I love you too darling.” She replied. You smiled to yourself. Though this was too big of an issue to just blow over, you knew you and Mildred would work through it. Because you loved her, even if it was tragedy sometimes.