#I promise I'm going back to drawing but I'm distracted by literally everything

[rozetheeuwu]

Some Nancy/Tesla propaganda

[cherryclxud]

Catch me if you can Lord Holmes pt2

(ENOLA HOLMES)!Sherlock x BRIDGERTON! reader

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Description: a writer by the name of Marcus Bradford has taken the Ton by storm with his weekly edition chapter of a crime story, Sherlock is tasked with finding Marcus Bradford and solving the case of the abominable bride. but what if meeting a certain Bridgerton girl distracts him from the case?

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: none

Taglist <3 : @frost-queen @siannaplmn @annesunlight @jolixtreesunn @probabydeadbynow @chloepluto1306 @gayandfairycore @queenfairyfangirl @viylikescats @hipsternerd9 @delusional-4-fake-people

read below for credits.

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SLEEPING AT 221B BAKER STREET USUALLY came easy to Enola. Seeing as there was quite literally very little for her to do, however, for the past 2 nights it has become increasingly difficult for her not to get out of bed and shout at her brother to put the violin down. 

Sherlock was stuck, and Enola could tell by his incessant playing of the violin, the notes he was playing were all gloomy grey. With a sigh, she put her head under the pillow and slammed her hand over it to cover her ears in the hope of respite from the sound. Of course, for the first 4 hours he was playing Enola felt sympathy, but when his playing started to get in the way of her sleep that's when her sympathy towards Sherlock turned to contempt towards the violin. 

She had reached the point where she imagined scenarios of her grabbing scissors and cutting the strings, or of her taking the violin and throwing it out the window.

Somehow the music playing seemed to penetrate through the pillow, making the girl move the pillow, turn to her back and glare at the ceiling. She got up and stomped the the drawing room where her brother sat there playing the insipid instrument. 

“SHERLOCK” she shouted over the music causing her brother to play a wrong note before stopping and turning to her. “Enola? Shouldn't you be asleep by now?” he looked out the window and saw the moon still high in the sky.

Enola crossed her arms while rolling her eyes, “geez Sherlock that's a great idea, i was getting quite tired and had no idea how to remedy it, you have truly opened my eyes” Her voice was full of sarcasm yet Sherlock paid no mind to it as he was distracted.

“Hmm yes well I suppose you should get to it”.

Enola scoffed as she saw her brother pick up the violin about to resume his playing once more “Sherlock! I can't if you insist on playing at this time.” she pointed to the instrument as the older Holmes looked down at it with a sigh.

“Ah, I see, my apologies sister I seemed to have gotten carried away” he places the instrument on its stand before slamming it down on the settee with a sigh and closes his eyes as he continues to think. 

Enola turns around, happy that the peace and quiet has finally infiltrated the home, she goes on her way to her room and just as she was about to go in she stops. She turns to look to her brother, she really felt pity for him at this point, losing sleep over looking for this man who could quite literally be anywhere in England.

“Sherlock, what's wrong?”

Sherlock opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at his sister. “Nothing Enola you should go to bed, I promise I won't play anymore”

He watches as his sister walks across the room only stopping at the coffee table to pick up his tobacco pipe and hold it in between her lips in thought. “Oh look at me I'm Sherlock and I must find out everything about everyone yet never let anyone find out anything about me” she spoke in a mock deep voice as she sat next to him.

HE leaned forward and snatched the pipe from her mouth before wiping the mouthpiece with his shirt. Enola watched as he lit the pipe with a match and smoked in silence, a frown etched on his face. She decided to change the subject hoping it would get her brother to open up more about what was bothering him.

“Y/n and i have been writing to each other”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow “y/n Bridgerton? The viscount's sister?” Enola nodded 

“Yes we have been speaking since we met Nonestop, she is actually quite amusing.” Enola smiled recounting the letters they both shared. Sherlock rolled his eyes but deep inside was happy that his sister had found someone to be friends with. He was worried that his taking care of her had caused his disinterest in forging real connections with people had spread to her. He didn't want her to lean on him and not connect with anyone else. 

He found himself grateful for y/n's sudden but effective presence in his sister's life.

“She's quite like you, you know?” Enola spoke looking nowhere in particular. This caught Sherlock's attention as he looked back to his sister, “How so?”

“Well for starters she's smart…well not as smart as you, no one as smart as you” Enola rolled her eyes before grabbing a small rubber ball she found lying on the floor and bounced it up and down a few times, “She reads a lot, she told me when her brother would return from oxford for the summer she would take the books he'd read and read and study his essays and annotations” 

Sherlock, who was staring at the floor where the ball was bouncing, chuckled quietly remembering one year at Oxford when Anthony had returned from his stay with his family missing the book he was meant to be studying for the semester and sheets of essays he had worked on during the time off, and how frazzled he was trying to rewrite what he could from memory, only to have it delivered to him with a letter of apology from his sister later that night.

“You know she even read that boring book you wrote on like the two hundred and forty types of tobacco” she offhandedly spoke not noticing her brother's smile dropped “Two hundred and forty-three”

“I believe that that was the only copy sold brother mine,” she smirked

“I'll have you know I sold three copies” he grumbled looking away.

Enola laughed “That's because Mycroft and I each bought a copy in support of you”

Sherlock scoffed and stood up walking to the window and looked outside pretending to be angry at his sister. 

“Oh don't sulk brother you know that doesn't work on me, the print shop refused to print any more copies of your books in advance, that's how bad it did.” She leaned back in her seat with a smirk, “She invited me to breakfast  at Bridgerton house tomorrow, can you take me there?” 

Sherlock turned with a nod “I can drop you off and th-” he stopped mid-sentence as an idea struck him, “what did you just say?”

Enola looked at her brother worried that he was too busy to take her “She invited me for breakfast tomorrow and I wish for you to take me there. If you are busy I can take a carriage so no worri-”

“No no before that”

Enola tried to replay the conversation “I told you not to sulk, then that the book you wrote won't get printed in advance any longer”

Sherlock then turned to face away and walked to his desk that was placed in the drawing room and picked up one of the many newspapers that were turned to page 4, turned to the back of the paper and read down the page till he reached what he was looking for. 

‘Tibalt's Printing Press

5th Northumberland street

London’

Sherlock smiled looking down at the paper, “Of course, Minnie always ends up in the kitchen when she's hungry.”

Enolas eyes turn the the left as she racks her brain trying to think what in the world her brother is going on about, “pardon?”

She watched as her brother scribbled some writing on a piece of paper before marching to his pin board on the wall and sticking a pin through the newspaper set on the last page. He stepped back with a smile, Enola stood up from her seat and walked to her brother's side.

“Sherlock, is everything alright?”

The brother looked at her and nodded “It's perfect, all back on track thanks to your friend,” Enola raised an eyebrow.

“Y/n? How did she help? Wait where are you going this late?” She watched as her brother picked up his coat and the paper he scribbled on. He walked up to her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

“Don't worry dear sister, assuming all goes to plan I'll be back in time to take you to break your fast with the Bridgertons, sleep well!” And with that, he walked out of the flat door closing it behind him leaving Enola alone in the drawing room.

With a sigh she blew out the remaining candle that illuminated the room, her eyes stopped at the violin that stood defenceless in the room. A smirk found its way on her face as she looked back at the door making sure her brother wouldn't be back.

………….

THE CANDLE BURNED  LIGHTING ONE corner of y/n's bed-chamber, her eyes fled over words on the page of the book she was reading, a new author writing under the title ‘A Lady’ had written a book named ‘Pride and Prejudice’, y/n was completely infatuated with the idea that the author had so boldly revealed that whoever she was, she was a woman.

Unlike Lady Whistledown, this writer resorted to writing harmless fiction that was incredible to read, and unlike y/n she was courageous enough to reveal she was a female, and yet it was a complete shame in y/n's eyes to see that the books didn't do as well as she thought it deserved. 

She pulled her knees to her chest as she relaxed against the window, sitting on the window seat to be able to look outside easily. It had become her routine to sit at the window every night, therefore to anyone else seeing her wouldn't warrant any suspicion, but y/n wouldn't sleep until something in the scenery outside her window changed.

She just about turns to a new page when from the corner of her eye she sees a light flickering outside her window facing the garden, turning to look outside, she sees the figure of the personal valet of Anthony walking in the garden with a candlelit lantern, stopping mid-walk he turns to her window direction and then blows out his candle.

Y/n gave a smile and blew out her own candle, drowning out the last shred of light in her room, and stood up from her seat, shutting the book and placed it on her dresser. And with that, the valet walked back into the house leaving the girl to go to sleep peacefully.

…….

THE CARRIAGE WHEELS STOPPED IN FRONT OF THE printing shop letting Sherlock step out before paying the driver. The windows were illuminated by the candles inside the print shop, he watched as two men worked on the printing of the weekly newspaper. 

Sherlock walked over to the door of the print shop and tried to push it open only to find it was locked closed, however, the attempt to open it had gained him the attention of the two men who looked at each other before turning to Sherlock.

The older one of the two motioned to the younger man to go deal with him as he went back to work. The younger man rolled his eye as he walked to the door and unlocked it before stepping out to stand face to face with the detective, “You know we don't get many people coming here that don't know how to read, this being a print shop and all”

Sherlock stared blankly, the man then pointed at the sign hanging in the window “It says closed, there I read it for you, come back in the morning” he then walked back inside but as he went to shut the door Sherlock stopped it with his foot causing the man to turn back to him.

“I'm here to find out about Marcus Bradford!”

The man tried to push Sherlock back “If you're a fan then you have no luck here, we only print what we get given.” managing to push Sherlock's foot out he went to slam the door only to once again get stopped but this time by his hand. Once the door was open again then holmes pulled his hand back in pain, shaking it to relieve the soreness.

“I'm a detective, I just have a few questions regarding Mr Bradford and I'll be on my way.”

The printshop employee scratched his chin before motioning for Holmes to follow him inside, he took him to the older man who had previously sent him to deal with the problem.

“Theo? I thought I told you to deal with it” the old man spoke, Theo, however, sighed “yeah well he's a detective, won't leave”

The old man's hands stopped working on the press as he turned to meet Sherlock Holmes’ eye, “Aye, yes I recognise you, you're that Holmes guy, to what do I owe the honour?”

Theo spoke up before Sherlock could “he says he's looking for Bradford, Mr Tibalt.”

“You a fan Mr. Holmes?” Tibalt spoke, prompting Sherlock to glare in his direction.

“I assure you quite the contrary, I have been just tasked with looking into him and his background” Sherlock made sure to walk up to the elder man and stand about a foot away from him, standing taller than him he was trying to add an intimidation factor “I would appreciate your cooperation”

Tibalt stood staring at Sherlock for a good 10 seconds before speaking “I'm not sure if I can actually be of help, I haven't met the man, and neither has Theo, he doesn't deliver the stories himself”

“Then who does?”

“It really depends.”

“On?”

“4 men rotate in delivering the story every week, each one wears a mask so I don't see their faces. They don't say a word, all I get is the story and a letter with instructions on what to do along with the payment.”

Dead end. 

“And when was the last time one of the men?” Sherlock asked.

“About an hour before you graced us with your own presence. He'd be long gone. All I can tell you is I have never met mr Bradford or had any personal contact with him.”

Sherlock nodded in thought, his only chance of unveiling Mr. Bradford had quite literally beat him to the chase. Tibalt turned and faced away from Sherlock grabbing a freshly printed newspaper copy, “I can't help you much about Bradford but I can tell you this” he handed Sherlock the new concept that was due for release in the morning, “Something has changed, he's introducing new characters in the midst of the story, and it's clear that this chapter has shifted it all to focus on this character. I assumed it would interest you seeing as for the past couple of copies he had been facing what I assume is a dry spell of ideas” 

Sherlock looked at Tibalt before opening the paper to page 4, his eyes skimmed over the paper and suddenly stopped in his tracks, “Detective Sherrinford?” He looked up to the print shopkeeper who shrugged his shoulders and turned to get back to printing the rest of the papers.

Understanding that he most likely wouldn't be able to get more information, he left his address and told them to let him know if there were any updates, then thanked them and left to go home.

……..

LONDON WAS BUSTLING THAT MORNING, the weekly paper distribution brought by an onslaught of arguments and opinions about the new chapter in the story. The introduction of the character Detective Sherrinford had brought about mixed feelings.

Some believed that Bradford was losing his touch and was doing what he could to keep the story going, others believed that this was just a long-winded way of Marcus telling them that the real story was about to begin, especially with the way he ended off this week's chapter.

“The game is afoot?” Enola put down the newspaper against her lap, she looked towards Sherlock who sat across from her in the carriage on the way to the Bridgertons. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved the curtains to gauge how far along they were until the house, “A change I presume, seems Marcus Bradford has decided to take the story in a different direction” he replied, there was a tinge of frustration in his voice.

The carriage stopped in front of the Bridgerton house and Sherlock stepped out before helping Enola out next, the footman took them into the house where they were allowed into the drawing room where Anthony, Benedict, Eloise, Gregory and Violet sat. 

Anthony being the first to see them stood up in surprise when he saw the Holmes sibling there, “Lord Holmes what a pleasant surprise this morning” he stood up and walked to them and shook their hands before inviting them further into the drawing room in the direction of his family, “this is my mother.” Violet stood from her seat with a smile, as Sherlock took her hand and placed a light kiss on it, then Anthony introduced the rest of his siblings in the room before turning to Sherlock “To what do I owe this fine visit to Holmes?”

“I invited Enola for breakfast brother” y/n who had just walked into the room spoke as she approached the group. Sherlock watched as she and Enola hugged, then as she turned to him and shook his hand, “Good morning Lord Holmes, it's very nice to see you again”

“Likewise Miss Bridgerton” he nodded to her. “I presume you have read the new chapter out today lord holmes, He added a new character what was his name” y/n put her hand the her chin as she pretended to have forgotten the name which Sherlock could of course detect however decided not to call her out on her actions and played along “detective Sherrinford i presume is the name you are trying to remember miss Bridgerton”

“Ahh yes, you are quite right lord holmes, I'm quite forgetful when it comes to these things” she lied jokingly as she spoke, making a small smile play on Sherlock's own lips.

“It's a shame seeing as the author has now added this character, who is a recluse detective who will possibly that forever to solve a case with already many plotholes, the only way the story can go is down.”

y/ns smile fell for a second but she made sure to replace it quickly enough to not be noticeable, “I don't know, I have come to take quite the liking to Detective Sherrinford, I think he will do great to solve this case, I think this story is getting better” she spoke with a smile.

As Sherlock and y/n spoke no one really paid any mind to them. Anthony and Benedict were busy talking, Enola had struck up a conversation with Eloise and Gregory was reading the story in the paper, and no one was paying them any mind…

But violet, she could see it.

Her daughter never took the time to talk to a man for this long about anything, not even about books or stories there was something there. And she was adamant about helping it grow.

“I don't know lord holmes, I would have thought you’d like the character, I think Sherrinford is exactly like you.” y/n’s words caused Enola and Eloise to look towards them in shock, “y/n! You are completely right, how could I not make that connection earlier myself “Enola spoke as she walked to the pair quickly.

“What are you two on about, the man is nothing like me”

And there stood the three arguing about why Sherrinford is or isn't like Sherlock until inevitably, a maid walked into the drawing room and called out that breakfast was ready.

“I guess this means I should take my leave not, Enola ill pick you up in 3 hours” Just as Sherlock was speaking about leaving, Violet interrupted his farewells “Lord Holmes please do join us for breakfast”

Sherlock just about shook his head and was about to decline before Violet spoke again “I had the cook prepare extra just for you” and with that, he couldn't refuse, no matter how much he wanted to.

….

The family and the Holmes siblings filtered into the dining area, Enola and y/n sat next to each other, and just about when Gregory was about to sit next to y/n on her other side, his mother motioned for him to sit elsewhere leaving Sherlock no other seat but that one, not that it really bothered him.

The families started eating and exchanging conversation, the atmosphere was delightful, and Enola was aglow, it had been a long while since she sat down for breakfast with a family seeing as usually she and Sherlock wake up at different times and end up eating anything.

“Lord Sherlock, it really is a pleasure having you and your sister here, I must say I'm surprised I havent seen you in the ton more often, no soirees nor balls” Violet spoke as she cut another piece of the omelette in her plate. Sherlock swallowed the food in his mouth before nodding to Violet “That is indeed true viscountess Bridgerton, I simply haven't found the time to integrate into society, there's too much work and research and clients. In fact it is my fault Enola has yet to debut, I had been meaning to help her this season however i got sidetracked.” 

Violet nodded her face full of sympathy towards the two siblings, it was a known fact around the ton that the Holmes family had lost not one but both parents in the same year, their father had been taken ill for months before suffering through an unfortunately painful exit and their mother had been so in love with him and followed him mere months after due to a broken heart. 

Since then little has been known about the Holmes family, they had become reclusive and barely interacted with the rest of the ton. Sherlock and Enola, who were 9 and 2 at the time, were put under the care and sanction of their older brother Viscount Mycroft who himself was 15. It was like the Holmeses ceased to exist any longer, that was until a few years ago when Viscount Mycroft got married and Sherlock moved out to a flat in Central London, it was widely believed that Sherlock found the Viscount Holmes’ new wife to be unappealing to share a mansion with, sooner or later in a visit back home he decided he would take his younger sister to live with him.

“Well better late than never I say” Violet spoke softly with a smile targeted at Sherlock. Her eyes flicker to y/n who was eating her food quietly while listening to the conversation then back to Sherlock. “you know, there is a soiree tomorrow night at the Dunphrees,”

Anthony stared at his mother in shock understanding what she was doing “Mother!”

Violet of course ignored him knowing Anthony really is only good for ruining her plans. “We shall be attending, I say you should come”

Enola looked up from her plate excited “Oh can we brother, it sounds like so much fun” y/n snorted quickly while holding back a laugh. Sherlock glanced at her before looking to his sister whose eyes was practically begging him, “ Enola you don't had a dress for the occasion and I doubt one can be made in time” 

Y/n smirked as she looked at him, “That is no worry at all lord holmes i have 4 daughters surely I have a couple of dresses to spare that will be her size.” Violet interjected. y/n and Enola looked at each other excitedly, Sherlock's lips pressed together in a semi-frustrated smile before looking at his sister and y/n. Enola looked very excited as she shared a hug with y/n, and for a moment his eyes lingered on the Bridgerton girl, he was thankful for her existence in his sister's life, she was in fact a very interesting person to talk to, and maybe having her around would make him feel less guilty over not always being there for his sister. The said Bridgerton girl turned to face Sherlock awaiting his decision, only to be met with his own eyes looking at her, he quickly looked away while clearing his throat embarrassed at having been caught staring at her, but this action did not elude Violet’s eyee, she smiled softly at the bashfulness of sherlock.

With a sigh, he nodded albeit quite a bit reluctantly but part of him knew that Enola needed this, and in fact he needed a break, so maybe he needed this too. “I don't see why not, God knows we require a chance for respite.” Enola gleamed at the thought of attending her first soiree tomorrow.

The families continued their breakfast and their endless conversations, many topics including the breach of secrecy of Anthony and Sherlock Oxford days, they even told stories of the Duke of Hastings from their days living together. Enola revealed quite a bit of her childhood activities, and the two siblings shared their distaste for their sister in law, hyacinth chatted about how their elder sister Daphne would have almost been married to the prince of Prussia had it not been for her love for the duke, this conversation managed to segway into Eloise talking about Lady Whistledown and who she may be.

“Speaking of hidden writers,” y/n spoke as she turned to look at Sherlock “How has your hunt for Mr Bradford lord homles, someone of your calibre must have reached some conclusion.”

Sherlock nearly choked on the tea he was drinking, everyone at the table went quiet actually quite curious about his findings. “Lord Sherlock you found Mr. Marcus Bradford?” Gregory exclaimed, having been quite a fan of the writer's weekly updates. 

Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief the detective shook his head “I'm afraid I'm still looking, he has proven to be quite a difficult man to find. I went to the printing shop that prints and distributes the weekly paper, unfortunately, they have no clue who he is either, seems he doesn't deliver the chapters himself for all I know he is on the other side of England.”

y/n’s eyes moved to the side in thought as everyone sighed in frustration expressing their disappointment in the possibility of not knowing the writer behind the book. 

“Well that would make no sense” y/n spoke up causing all eyes to move to her.

“It makes perfect sense miss Bridgerton, there are other places in England a man can live other than Mayfair” Sherlock spoke sarcastically, confused as to why y/n would find such a simple ordeal strange, his words caused both Anthony and Benedict to chuckle.

y/n glared at her brothers then directed her glare to Sherlock “Laugh all you want men, I have a point to make. Tell me Lord Holmes why would a man on the other side of England write a story only for it to be published in Mayfair only? Surely he wants to see the fruits of his labour in person, even if he doesn't take the credit for it.”

“What makes you so sure that the man only has it published in Mayfair and not all over England?” Sherlock spoke, now completely serious, of course, he was quite upset that a point like this could have fled his mind. He had been too busy looking for the man himself when the actual paper held most of the clues he would need anyway. He thought it would be best to listen to y/n seeing as it was her words that triggered him to find the first clue in the first place.

Something told him that she knew much more than she let on about this case.

“Simple. We receive two different newspapers per week, one is the English paper, and the other is the Mayfair weekly paper, and yet the story only appears in the Mayfair weekly. That means your elusive writer is either an idiot-” Violet scolded her daughter for her use of an insult, however y/n brushed it off with an apologetic look aimed at her, before facing Sherlock again “-and is sending a copy of his writing to every separate town and city in England rather than just placing it in the English paper that goes all over England, or he is walking among us here in Mayfair”

The two stared eye to eye for a good 10 seconds in silence that even Colin had to clear his throat to almost ease the tension. Sherlock was the first to speak, “Well deduced Miss Bridgerton, you seemed to have caught on to a point I seemed to have missed” he smirked, “This is the second time, one more time and I may just have to engage you.” y/n’s smile dropped at his words and her face heated up as violet and Enola let out a quiet gasp. Sherlock cleared up his throat and quickly went to fix his wording.

“Engage you in other cases i mean, sometimes I could use an outsider's eye on the matter” he spoke while avoiding y/n’s eyes, his fingers tracing the rim of the teacup in his hands. y/n was in a similar situation but had a small smile that danced on her lips.

“Holmes doesn't jest” y/ns smiled as her eyes shot up to look at Anthony who had made a habit of ruining the moment “Y/n is a young lady and shouldn’t really be exposed to some of the cases you deal with, don't you agree” she glared at him. “And what of it brother? What does my being a lady have to do with a case? It’s not like crime stops when I walk in the room just because I'm a lady.” she spoke while rolling her eyes, she knew her brother meant well but sometimes he was overbearing. 

“y/n-”

“Actually viscount Bridgerton, I completely understand your argument” Sherlock's words caused y/n to look at him disappointed “However as Miss Bridgerton has worded it wonderfully, crime doesn't stop because the fairer sex exists. I truly believe there is no such thing as protecting them from the truth, only hiding the truth. I think Miss Bridgerton would benefit from being challenged by a few questions, no need to see a crime scene herself. I do this with Enola all the time, and she doesn't seem to mind at all.”

Enola quickly nodded at her brother's words in agreement “It's true Lord Bridgerton, it’s quite fun, like solving puzzles, it keeps me occupied and gives me the ability to spend time with Sherlock.”

Violet interjected before Anthony could speak again,” These are quite bold ideas you share lord holmes, not many men would agree with you.”

“And not many women too” Eloise muttered with an eye roll.

But Sherlock kept his resolve and looked to y/n and his sister before looking back to Violet, “Well viscountess Bridgeton, I am quite a fanatic of what many may call strange ideals. I believe that a day will come, when a war will break out,” the whole table gasped in shock at his words, “one half of the human race against the other, the invisible army always standing by the men's shoulder, there has to come a day where us men stand back and view women as equals who deserve respect and demand to be heard”

 “I think it's a wonderful idea lord holmes, you letting y/n help out in your cases that is.” Violet broke the silence as she clasped her two hands together, she met eyes with y/n who smiled at her, she smiled back and gave her daughter a wink.

If he were to be the man her daughter would love, then she would rather back her up than be against her and cause her daughter to abstain from the thought of love or marriage in general.

Gregory sat up excitedly “Lord Holmes! When you do find Mr. Bradford do you think you can get him to sign a copy of his books for me?” 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow with a smile at the excitement in his voice “Thats IF, but I don't see why not”

“No, it’s WHEN, Lord Holmes, I’m sure you are much closer to the man than you think” y/n spoke while motioning to Anthony valet to fetch her more tea with a smile. Sherlock looked at the teacup in y/n’s hands in confusion “I’m not sure im any closer to finding him, no one in the ton knows him”

The valet held the teacup as he poured tea for y/n as she spoke “Who says Marcus Bradford is the writer's real name?” it was like clockwork, Sherlock looked at y/n as she spoke, and the teacup slipped out of the valet's hands dropping some of the contents of the cup straight into y/ns lap. Sherlock quickly grabbed a tablecloth from in front of him and started dabbing the tea on her lap, them action caused her eyes to widen and for her to stand up quickly and move away, Anthony and Benedict stood up, both rushing to their sister, countless apologies were spewed from the valet's mouth. It was actually quite chaotic.

“It’s fine, I'm fine” y/n spoke with a nervous smile. “ one of the downsides of being a girl is wearing many layers, though I suppose in this case it is an upside” she let out a giggle while looking at everyone, her eyes moved to the valet who was still apologising “no harm no foul Hudson, I'm fine” 

“I may have to get changed though, Enola,” she turned to face her friend, “Why don't you join me, we can look for a dress for you to wear for tomorrow's soiree”

The younger Holmes got up with a smile and joined her as the two rushed off to y/n’s room.

Everyone returned to their seats and slowly continued on with their conversation, however, Sherlock felt uneasy now in his seat, looking up in front of him his eyes met with Anthony’s eyes, who almost seemed to be glaring back at him.  The eldest Bridgerton brother hadn't missed how Sherlock reacted to the tea dropped on his sister, he wanted to diminish any feelings that may be growing from y/n towards Holmes as fast as possible, to him Sherlock wasn't right for his sister.

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AN: First of all I am absolutely blown away by the number of likes and requests for tags I have gotten, I love you all, literally thought this story was going to flop. I'm sorry it took a while for the second chapter to come out hopefully next chapter won't take as long. TRULY LIKE WOW.

This chapter has so many easter eggs feel free to let me know which ones you found out through my ask box or comments, and if there is smth you would like me to add in any upcoming chapters let me know too<3

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I do not own Bridgerton

I do not own Sherlock or Enola Holmes

and I most certainly don't own the abominable bride story

I do not own Sherrinford

they belong to their rightful owners

I only own the fic idea.

[unlikelyjapan]

s2e3 rewatch notes

One more before the weekend...

"When I was a kid anything that would give me some type of excitement, or amusement or enjoyment would get fucked ... Sometimes they'd try too hard, or they'd make promises they weren't able to keep" - everything in Carmy's AA statement can be related to cooking, the restaurant, drawing, Claire - pretty much the sum of Carmy's parts now.

Second Carmy/Syd kitchen scene:

Carmy is always the first to ask about anyone's parents (but only to Syd) - just like he inquires about Syd's Dad, his first concern is to ask about Marcus' mom while they debate sending him to Copenhagen. Family and people, in general, are always at the forefront of his mind, while progression is always at the forefront of Syd's (even if she does genuinely cares and checks in, it's secondary)

Carmy's "I want to make a suggestion" to go out was so loaded - it was obviously a premeditated move that he wanted to do the food tour with Syd. "I think WE need to go out, and we need to try some stuff"

After he tells her he'll see her in an hour, Goodbye Girl by Squeeze starts playing, and the track ends as Tina realizes that Ebra isn't ever going to be by her side in class *dies twice*

Richie dropping off his daughter: I have a precocious 6-year-old daughter as well and.....they tried to squeeze way too many lines into Eva to advance Richie's storyline when it should have come via Tiff or something - I hate being a negative nelly, but this part is so botched/lifetime drama-y.

(His obvious tenderness is sweet though)

10:44am call with Claire: this is only 2ish hours after his AA talk - I guess the subject matter was resonating with him?

Her forcing the convo on how ingratiated she is with his family makes me throw up my hands and say "no wonder the guy had a fucking panic attack later!". I was just highlighting how in AA how his family tries too hard sometimes - this is a prime example with her "I know all the fuckin' Faks" jousting.

And my god, she knew he was about to tell her that he was busy today, and she claps back "can you not make this weird?" - it literally harkens back to his family's bullying and expectations that Carmy will pacify them. (I know she can't know all this, but damn)

This part of the conversation gets its own bullet point:

"You know, he [Fak] told me that you guys are really close and that he's your best friend" - I didn't realize the first go around how bold the attempt at enmeshment was. With Fishes as context, the toxicity levels in this conversation are off the rails.

Also, her demented smile when she says "really?" when he says "no...no, Fak's not my best friend" - aggghhhh!

"No, no. He is. He's probably my best friend"

What the hell is this? "That's interesting, to sit with, for you" with the continued weird little smile -this isn't flirting, this is her relishing in the fact that she can manipulate him.

Why didn't I clue into how caustically fucked this scene was the first time? I think I was so distracted by the whispy dialogue and cadence of the conversation that I actually blacked out of the dialogue. Thank goodness for subtitles, because this script is mildly psychotic to read.

I know Storer said that one of the themes of this season is "winning is losing" - Claire is definitely playing to win at all costs. Is s2e10 showing that she lost? Or am I sitting through this dialogue again next season? I NEED TO KNOW.

Anyways, Secret Teadrops by Martin Rev (google the lyrics) plays as sydney enters Kasama - God, the music suggests she was thrilled to be spending a day out of the usual context with Carmy, and her checking her phone constantly is killing me.

Twenty Five Miles by Edwin Starr starts playing at the start of the food montage, just as Sydney gets the text from Carmy that she'll be doing it alone.

"I've been walking for three days and two lonely nights, and you know that I'm mighty mad"

After the owner of Avec tells her that she needs a great partner above all else, the lyrics blare again with "although my feet are tired, I can't lose my stride" - she can't abandon faith in Carmy just yet.

After the Pelican meats scene where the butcher (I forget his name, sorry!) tells Syd that he and his wife lost their restaurant in Bucktown after a business partner cut and ran, the song again blares with "I'm SO tired, but I just can't lose my stride"

Syd starts to adjust her language to "I'm not exactly solo" in the next restaurant scene- ugh - painful.

Enter conversations about profit sharing. Naiya assumes that she and Carmy are INVOLVED involved, and when she finds out they're just "gentleman's agreement" partners, she basically tells her to watch her back. Syd registers the statement, but looks so dejected, like she knows she's on a fool's errand now.

The lyrics flare one last time simply with "I've got to walk on"

Cue Carmy's phone going to voicemail as she has the jitters on the loading dock. She looks so sad, but also resigned to her fate at this point.

Sydney calls Marcus right after trying to call Carmy looking for any kind of sign or reinforcement. We're at the triangle again, with Marcus interpreting it one way, and Syd....really not reading anything into it at all.

I feel like Fak making fun of Marcus for "looking forward' with that big, dumb smile on his face means he knows Marcus' affection for Sydney.... and I'm starting to realize all the plots I don't like are the result of Fak's intuition and/or meddling.

Syd awkwardly trying to poach BOH workers is adorably baller and shows how aggressive she is just now realizing she needs to become- and she's so terrible at it, and I love her.

Future Perfect by Duretti Column (what an awesome deep cut) playing - I love that this part of the montage is Syd diving deep into herself and her more analytically-bent creative process and fuck everyone else. It's just her carrying the creative load of the restaurant right now, but she's truly free.

Lyrics repeat "You tell me stories, you speak in pictures"

She's being absolutely present ("Don't live in the future") and letting the food and the city that birthed it speak to her honestly and it's just so beautiful. The old family pictures surface in her memory alongside the plates she's crafting - her own contribution to the chaos menu, her past and present combined, her future (The Bear) undetermined.

Back to The Bear with "Make You Happy" by Tommy McGee playing in the background - I feel like enough ink has been spilled on this scene, but honestly read the lyrics here - ack.

One small observation after Carmy says "I'll let you know" - in the background, Marcus looks completely defeated, Fak's suppressing a laugh or something, and we get Richie's "ooooooohhhhhhh!"while Carm gives him dagger eyes. Y'all....these are not great men.

Syd rightfully realizes she needs to get the fuck away from everyone in that instant if she's going to do anything productive with the inspiration she's culled from her day of exploration and calls in the favor from the kitchen. I love that it almost immediately cuts to her there with her emotional support spoon 🥺

The ravioli failure - i.e. the fantasy vision of the food she had on the plate during her journey day not matching the reality of what she can craft on her own = the fantasy vision of the restaurant/life she could craft with Carmy not matching the reality of what she can is forced to craft on her own.

Oof, taking a break for a few days now....

[memberment]

Genesis

I am back from work. My internet is down. However, thanks to the gods, I have hotspot. Updates are here tn. I'm working on a redraw of Marj and Bebe. ALSO.

Abt to start writing Clyde and Kenny going on a date (THERE HAS TO BE SOME FLUFF IN THIS OTHERWISE WHERE'S THE FUN, RIGHT?)

(I totally lied I am not about to work on either of those things right now I'm about to concept my cypher for Trinitarianism. And I'm only directly saying it on this acc because there are like six people here. But there is a cypher and it is in relation to the art. I am HOPING someone picks up on HOW bc I will not be stating that. Unless I say fuck it we ball and I do. But I probably won't.)

1:43 update I got nothing done so far bc I got distracted for two whole hours explaining the plot of this entire fic to my brother god bless. BUT. The prologue art on trinitarianism has been reposted. There doesn't appear to be anything different about it though.

It is 4:58 and I've been testing shit for an hour and I keep accidentally posting and I'm GONNA SCREAM

HOW DO I GET IMAGES TO ACTUALLY UPLOAD LIKE I AM TRYNA POST A CHAPTER ON SUNDAYYYYY

It's 6:27 and I'm still lost I am calling god himself to give me an explanation because I WANT TO START POSTING THIS. ON SUNDAY. I DO NOT WANT TO WAIT UNTIL THE NEXT LINE UP. BUT I CANNOT GET IMAGES TO WORK AND THERE ARE SPECIFIC IN FIC IMAGES I NEED. I ALREADY MADE THEM. AHHH.

But anyways I'm working on the Marj/Bebe redraw in hopes that I can actually get everything done for Sunday and I got to a point with the line art where I just started coloring and I'm leaving everything up to god lmao

Anyways, send ur thoughts and prayers that one of my ao3 pals can make these pics fucking work bc I will actually scream if I can't get them to work LMAO

6:35 update NEVER FUCKING MIND I GOT IT SOMEONE QUE UP THE WAR IS OVER PART OF THAT CHRISTMAS SONG I'M LOSING MY SHIT

HOLY SHIT Y'ALL I JUST FIGURED OUT THE BEST THING FOR HEIDI'S INTRO CHAPTER I AM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND

Also I am SO sorry if any of you have post notifs on and your email is blowing up from me I kept accidentally posting the same fucking thing while trying to test stuff

I promise I will stfu soon LMAO

Yeah okay I just figured everything out. I'm losing my shit. Screaming. Crying. Throwing up. Anyways, expect MAD SHIT to be hidden within the walls of this fic. Like. They are gonna be HIDING. IN. PLAIN. SIGHT.

anyways first real chapter is going up Sunday because I! FIGURED! IT! OUT! (It's literally 8 in the morning I've been fucking with this for basically three hours (I took an hour break to draw bc ao3 got me mad) and I am running off diet Dr Pepper and vibes alone, excuse my insanity.)

[jackhues]

peanut's reaction to leafs vs tampa

NOTE: this is from the game on NOV/06/23. since peanut's too small for ig, lmk if you guys wanna see stuff like this for p's world!

she was watching the game back in new jersey with mama and jack bcz luke's on the roadtrip with the rest of the team. nico joined them bcz peanut missed him.

the knies goal made her rlly happy at the start, and she was cheering with mama, while nico and jack were talking about the plays that led up to it

almost immediately after that, peanut began to hate it. tampa scored less than a minute after, and then they scored again, and again, and again... and the game was 4-1: tampa

nico distracts peanut while jack's trying to calm mama down as she threatens to destroy the leafs defense singlehandedly and take their place

when they switched goalies, peanut began cheering for woll, but she got sad when she saw samsonov all frustrated. she's asking mama "call sammy. i wanna talk to sammy." and mama's like "p, it's the middle of the game. i can't reach him rn. we'll call after." and peanut doesn't like it, but she can't rlly argue

and then matthews scored two in the second period, and peanut's all fired up again. she's running around the living room going "go leafs go! that's my dada!"

she's cheering again the next period when calle ties it, and then literally starts bouncing off the walls when mitch scores eight seconds later to get the leafs up one.

and then tampa ties it

when overtime starts, peanut's back to making up random chants to cheer the leafs on, screaming at the t.v. like they can hear her

it must've worked, bcz calle scored and the leafs won -- cue peanut losing her literal mind

she fts aus immediately like "papá, you did so good. you won the game. and TWO goals! i saw you drawed a p on your glove and gave it a kiss for your celly. i got so happy! i'm so happy rn."

and aus is grinning, so fucking happy that peanut's this happy for the win and that she noticed how he drew a little p on his gloves

and then she talks to sammy and she's like promising that he's still her favourite and that she's gonna wear his jersey to give him some luck. and sammy's obvs frustrated, but seeing this little kid do everything to make him happy makes him calm down a bit.

and then she talks with mitchy and knies for a bit, just blabbering random stuff she heard nico and jack talking about and the two look so impressed, and don't realize it's not her own thoughts but two nhlers who were analyzing the game

[ilanorgratvol]

Rough tempest they will raise - Part 11

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

The illusion, as beautiful as it was, was nothing more than a fleeting fantasy aimed at distracting them, if only temporarily, from the impending inevitability. Now, standing in Gale's room, the sorceress couldn't help but wonder—would it have been better to lose herself in this sweet oblivion? To throw it all away and return to Waterdeep, only to face the looming evil again after some time? No doubt, the Absolute, whatever it was, would continue to consume cities if no one stood against it.

"I hate that I have to stay here again."

Talia, intensely focusing, struggled with the multitude of clasps and ties on Gale's leather bracers, helping him dress for the upcoming battle with Ketheric Thorm.

"I know. And I'm grateful that you're not contesting this decision," - he observed her hands, tilting his head slightly, - "Besides, I thought you'd be glad to stay close to someone who, as I understand it, has become dear to you."

Talia raised an eyebrow in misunderstanding, casting a fleeting glance at the wizard's face.

"Rolan..." - it seemed to her that Gale sighed in annoyance, - "I saw you two one of the nights when we arrived here. Out on the street," - he gestured vaguely toward the window.

Talia felt her cheeks flush. She simply smiled slightly, not taking her eyes off her task: 

"I knew you were watching."

"Oh, really?" - Gale smirked bitterly, - "Not exactly the spectacle I hoped to see before sleep, to be honest..."

"Gale..." - Talia paused for a moment and looked into his eyes mischievously, - "I KNEW you were watching."

She could literally see the gears turning in his mind through his eyes. He furrowed his brows momentarily in confusion before a spark of playfulness appeared in his eyes, and he cracked a slight smile: 

"You're a little minx..."

"Lovebirds, time to move out," - Astarion opened the door fully armed, with a bow slung over his shoulder. He paused for a second, surprised to see the sorceress still holding Gale's hand, then smirked slyly, - "You're not Tav..."

"Thank the gods, I’m not" - the sorceress rolled her eyes in jest.

"Out, in five minutes," - the elf strutted out of the room, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

Talia fastened the last buckle but didn't let go of his hand: 

"Gale, you need to promise me that..."

"As tempting as that is, you know I can't make such a promise," - he tried to smile reassuringly, -  "But I'll do everything possible to ensure it doesn't come to that."

"That's not very comforting..." - she sighed.

"Tally..."

"I know... I know," - she gently stroked his robe few times, then sighed, - "Come here."

"What are you..." - the wizard started to say before she drew closer, tenderly placing her hands on either side of his face and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes, savoring the unexpected warmth and affection, leaning in slightly to prolong the moment.

"Show them what the Wizard of Waterdeep is made of." - Talia finally released him, her gaze filled with confidence.

He nodded and walked out of the room, casting a last look at the sorceress over his shoulder.

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

Talia was pacing up and down Isobel's balcony impatiently. Every now and then, she cast a glance at the Towers, hoping to see any hint of what was happening inside, and at the same time, fearing to see anything that might resemble the destructive energy being released from the Sphere. The day was drawing to a close, as far as one could tell in these lands, and there was still no news. Rolan and his siblings had tried a few times to distract her from her oppressive thoughts with idle chatter and a glass of wine, but her feet quickly carried her back to the familiar balcony, where her eyes, dried out from the wind and attempts to blink as infrequently as possible, could not tear themselves away from the ill-fated towers.

"Still nothing?" - Rolan joined her on the balcony.

Talia shook her head, not taking her eyes off the towers.

"Well, at least the sky is beautiful today," - the tiefling looked up at the sky, which was sparkling with stars. A full moon had risen above the towers, illuminating the lake below, - "I haven’t seen the stars so bright in a long time..."

"Stars..." - the sorceress echoed thoughtfully, - "Stars! Rolan!" - she suddenly jumped up to him as if stung, grabbing the sleeves of his robe, - "This is a cursed place, there are no stars here!"

She was about to explain more to him, as the tiefling clearly did not fully understand what was happening, when a shout from the first floor reached them: 

"Sorceress! You are needed here!"

Talia ran down the stairs with a smile on her face, but upon seeing the scene that unfolded before her, her smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. In the middle of the tavern stood Astarion and Shadowheart, both covered in some strange slime, blood, and sweat. They were struggling to hold up Gale, who was barely managing to stand on his own in an attempt to maintain his dignity.

As Talia approached, the tension in the tavern was palpable. Gale’s face was ashen, his eyes dull from exhaustion or pain. He tried to smile when he saw her, an effort that only deepened the lines of fatigue etched across his face.

“What happened?” - Talia’s voice was a mix of concern and command. She shifted Gale's weight onto herself, his arm limply hanging around her neck. Carefully touching his side to support him more, she felt something warm and wet streaming onto her fingers.

“We might have encountered something bigger than we expected...,” - Shadowheart explained, her voice raspy.

Astarion, wiping some grime from his face with a less soiled part of his sleeve, chimed in:

“An understatement, darling. We faced literally a god! And it seems our wizard has a penchant for getting close to any deity he can reach.”

Gale’s attempt to straighten up was futile; his strength was clearly spent:

“It was necessary. You should have seen this crown… this power. We had to try…”

“Why did you drag him all this way?! Shadowheart, just heal him!” - Talia’s heart tightened, hearing the wizard’s hoarse voice.

She just shook her head guiltily:

“Sorry, I’m spent for today. We used up all the healing potions we had in reserve, but it wasn’t enough.”

Talia growled and slightly adjusted his arm on her shoulder to make it easier to carry him: 

“You have a penchant for self-destruction, don’t you, wizard?”

She slowly began the ascent up the stairs, helping Gale reach his room. Astarion and Shadowheart where going to help her, but she growled at them like a she-wolf protecting her cub: 

“You’ve done enough!”

Gale was much taller and heavier than her, but somehow she managed to get him to his room. The wizard practically fell onto the bed, groaning in pain.

"It's okay... Everything will be okay..." - Talia frantically scurried around the room, gathering medicines and supplies. She placed a basin, into which she magically conjured warm water, quickly tore one of her clean shirts into rags, and finally leaned over the wizard.

"Don't you dare pass out, hear me?" - she placed her hand on his cheek, noticing that he was slowly closing his eyes, - "Look at me."

With some effort, he half-opened his eyes: 

"Clearly, you're not giving me much of a choice..."

Talia nodded, satisfied with his response, and turned her attention to the wizard's bloodied robe. She began unfastening it to access the wound, but he flinched slightly in an attempt to dodge, grimacing in pain. Talia smirked:

"What, do I need to take you out on a date before I can take your clothes off?"

She tried to ease Gale's tension, but in reality, she was more trying to calm herself. Her heart was pounding wildly with anxiety for his condition, she tried to hold back tears and, clenching her teeth, knew that now she just needed to get things right. Emotions could be let loose later, once the crisis was past.

"Our relationship has gone too far for a first date, don't you think?" - Gale replied with a groan, but he moved his hands away and let her do her work.

As Talia carefully peeled away the layers of clothing to reveal the wound, she couldn't suppress a gasp. The injury was worse than she had feared; a deep, dark gash that seemed to pulse ominously with his every heartbeat.

"Gods below," - she muttered under her breath, quickly wetting a cloth in the basin and pressing it gently against the wound to cleanse it. Gale winced, but his gaze never wavered from her face, a testament to his trust in her.

“Is it bad?” - he asked, trying to sit up to see the wound, but in vain attempts, he dropped his head back onto the pillow, wincing in pain.

“It will be if you keep moving,” - the sorceress sighed heavily, dipping the cloth in the water, which instantly turned dark red with blood, - “The wound needs to be cauterized.”

“I'm used to being the one who does the searing, not the one being seared…” - Gale squirmed uncomfortably on the bed, clearly dreading the imminent procedure.

Talia picked up a knife from the bedside table and leaned over the wizard, pinning him down with her body to prevent him from moving. Her knee pressed against one of his arms along his side. Her free hand pressed his shoulder, and her chest was close to his. The blade of the knife, heated by magic, turned redder with each second.

“Do you trust me?” - she asked almost in a whisper, leaning close to his face.

“A rather broad question, given the circumstances…” - Gale’s eyes darted between her and the knife in her hand, - “I'm afraid you’ll have to elaborate…”

“Gale!” - Talia snapped him out of his rambling. His eyes refocused on hers.

“With my life…” - he finally exhaled.

She seemed to contemplate for a few seconds, her eyebrows furrowed, before she finally closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. He was hot. Literally, he must have had a fever from the wound, his breath was that warm. Gale closed his eyes and moaned softly with pleasure. But the next moment, pleasure turned to searing, bright pain as the sorceress finally applied the heated knife to his wound. He opened his eyes wide, his moan turning into a scream of agony.

Talia pulled away from his face, tensing her muscles to hold him in place. His back arched, lifting off the bed's surface. His hand gripped her forearm, squeezing so tightly she was sure it would leave a bruised mark the next day. It seemed his entire being was focused only on escaping the all-consuming pain.

“I know... I know... just a bit longer...” - her voice trembled traitorously, - “I’m sorry... Just a little bit longer... You’re doing so well...”

Finally, she removed the blade from the wound and carelessly threw it into a corner of the room as if it was the source of all their troubles. She placed her hands on either side of the wizard's face, trying to steady his rapid breathing and make him look at her:

"It's over... it's all okay now," - she breathed deeply herself, not realizing she had been holding her breath while cauterizing the wound, now compensating for the lack of oxygen.

Gale opened his eyes, unable to focus on anything. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his hair was messily spread on the pillow around his face, and his chest, still heaving rapidly, was beginning to stabilize.

"Why would you do that?!" - he finally managed to speak.

"There could have been an infection, we couldn't wait until morning..." - she gently brushed strands of hair from his forehead, slightly tilting her head as if she were an artist making final adjustments to an already perfect painting.

"Talia..." - he grumbled discontentedly, knowing full well she understood what he really meant.

"What?" - she finally pulled away from the wizard and stood up from the bed, - "I had to distract you somehow."

"Well, you certainly succeeded, no doubt about that," - Gale managed to prop himself up on the pillows, - "I do love poetry, but even I understand that no kiss can truly heal. And certainly not numb pain."

"Next time, I'll just shove a stick in your mouth then," - she retorted, turning away from him to focus on the herbs lying on the table nearby. The sorceress carefully separated the leaves from the stems, placing them in a mortar, added a bit of water, and whispered a spell before starting to crush them into a paste with slow, confident movements.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to offend you," - the wizard's voice gradually softened as the pain subsided, -  "The smell of one's own burnt flesh doesn't exactly set the mood for romance. Though..." - he hesitated for a moment but continued, - "I'm not against such distractions. On the contrary, I'm all for it."

Talia paused for a second, feeling familiar shivers run through her body. She almost smiled but managed to maintain her composure and returned to her task:

"Next time, there's no need to slash your guts for it," - her face flushed with a betraying blush, - "Just ask nicely."

"Sure I will..."

The sorceress finished preparing the ointment, returned to the bed, and carefully sat down, focusing on the wound. Its edges were slightly charred, but the bleeding had clearly stopped, and the crisis seemed to have passed. In the morning, Shadowheart would do everything to speed up Gale's recovery, but for now, the ointment was sufficient to let the wizard finally sleep without flinching in pain every five minutes. With these thoughts, Talia carefully scooped up a small handful of ointment on her fingers and gently ran them along the edge of the wound. Gale flinched from the initial coolness but then, feeling the relief brought by the herbs, relaxed. His eyes were half-closed, his relaxed gaze shifting from her fingers to her face and back. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes before Talia finally broke it:

"My brother..." - her voice took on a slightly nostalgic tone tinged with sadness and melancholy.

"What?" - Gale didn't immediately understand what she was referring to.

"The person I've been looking for. The one Elminster promised to help find. It's my brother - Nathaniel," - she continued slowly rubbing the ointment into the wizard's skin, carefully, trying not to cause any undue pain. Her eyes were focused on her fingers, but it was evident how memories washed over her like a tide caught off guard. She melancholically and quietly continued:

"My mother was one of the elven sorceresses sent on a ship from Sarifal to Neverwinter to help local wizards deal with the aftermath of the Spellplague. Their ship encountered a storm, and they were forced to change course. That's how they ended up in Port Llast - a small village of stonemasons just north of Neverwinter. The village where my father lived - he had a small workshop where he created sculptures from marble. The storm ended after three days, the elves' ship continued its journey across the sea..." - the sorceress smiled faintly, - "but my mother stayed. And nine months later, my brother and I were born."

The wizard fell silent, as if afraid that saying a word would interrupt the flow of the sorceress's thoughts, and she would end her story. Her fingers, meanwhile, continued their gentle journey across his skin:

"My mother died of fever when we were ten," - her voice trembled slightly, the melancholic smile fading from her face, - "By then, Nathaniel and I had already begun to show our abilities, and only mother could teach us how to manage the wild magic surges. After her death, our father, as much as he wanted to, simply didn't know what to do with us. And what could he do... a simple stonemason, for whom a trip to Neverwinter was the grandest adventure of his life..."

Gale frowned, not fully grasping the significance of what was said:

"Didn't he care about you?"

"On the contrary, perhaps too much..." - Talia sighed heavily, - "But he knew little about the Weave and couldn't give us what we needed most - an understanding of what was happening to us and how to cope with it."

Talia finally finished applying the ointment, gently placed a clean gauze bandage over the wound, and moved back to the table to tidy up. In honest, she just couldn't continue her story while Gale was looking at her so intently. She bent over the dirty, bloodied rags, squeezing them in her hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her eyes seemed to focus on one point, her voice turning cold: 

"Imagine his relief when one day not just one sorcerer, but a whole order of them, appeared in our village. They offered to teach us, to show us how to control the Weave and not harm ourselves. They taught us how to use magic to…" - She paused, struggling to find the right words, - "…to punish those who disrupted the usual order of things."

"Punish...?" - Gale frowned, but stopped himself when he saw Talia's significant look.

"We were children, Gale. Children who had spent their entire lives in that damned quarry and knew nothing of life."

"I'm not judging you…" - he tried to explain. She just nodded understandingly and looked away.

"When we turned eighteen, we were supposed to undergo an initiation ritual. I remember my father was so proud of us..." - Talia stopped, dropping the rags from her hands and heavily sitting down on a nearby chair. Her hands were still covered in the wizard's blood, and she stared at them as if mesmerized, - "That night…" - she seemed to barely hold back tears, - "we were told that from that moment on, our new lives would begin. And for that, we had to get rid of the old one..."

"Don't go on... You don't have to..." - the wizard clearly understood where this was heading.

"I couldn't. I didn't," - her facial features suddenly hardened, her jaw tensed, her eyebrows furrowed, - "Nathaniel, on the other hand... always was the obedient student…" - she gritted through her teeth.

Gale felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. How had he managed all this time not to bother to learn more about her? How could he have been so indifferent? How could he whine and whimper like a beaten puppy about the fickleness of his fate, when she silently carried all this inside her? He wanted to hold her, to press her to his chest, to stroke her snow-white hair, to tell her that it was all in the past, that he wouldn't let anything like it happen again as long as she was with him. But all he could do was whisper almost silently, - "Tally…"

As if waking from a trance, she lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes flashing:

"People are capable of terrible deeds, Gale. And many of them cannot be forgiven, should not be forgiven. Believe me, I've had fifteen years to become an expert at this." - Her gaze softened slightly, - "But what you did for your goddess is nothing compared to what I had to face. And her unwillingness... her inability to forgive you is just a demonstration of her own weakness and cowardice."

"Are you ready to forgive your brother for what he did?"

"I never said I possessed the necessary qualities either," - the sorceress stood up from the table, wiped her hands on a clean towel, and headed for the exit of the room.

"Stay..." - Gale said pleadingly.

She merely shook her head slightly: 

"I'll visit you in the morning. Right now... I need some air."

She left the room without waiting for his response. The wizard laid his head back on the pillows, sighing heavily, staring at the ceiling. Was there any truth in what she had told him? Was the guilt, which oppressed him and consumed him from the inside, just something imposed by Mystra to cover her own weakness and pride? In their last encounter, the goddess had told him that he had let her down, disappointed her, even betrayed her. But was that really what he had tried to invoke in her with his actions? Wasn't it just a leap of faith in an attempt to give her everything and even more? Now he was unsure of anything... Healing sleep finally overtook him, and with these thoughts, he slowly succumbed to their lulling flow.

[youngpettyqueen]

"I’m sorry—" "No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault" for houlihawk 👀

this. got away from me a bit in terms of length but the dialogue started writing itself so who can blame me

The rain has softened from a vicious downpour to a peaceful pattering, the sound filling the empty OR. Hawkeye tries to focus on that and not on what's to come, looking away as Margaret takes a swab soaked with alcohol to the cut in his palm, sliced just underneath his fingers.

The calming pitter-patter of the rain is, unfortunately, not enough of a distraction. He still hisses sharply the second the alcohol touches the wound, clenching and unclenching his free fist a few times to fight the urge to jerk his injured hand out of Margaret's grasp.

"Sorry," Margaret winces, even as she continues to dab at the bloody cut and he continues to whine, "Sorry, I'm sorry-"

"No-" Hawkeye cuts in before she can get another apology in, "No, don't be sorry. It's not your fault,” She doesn’t look up at him, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the task at hand, her mouth set in a deep scowl. That makes a little red flag go a-waving in his head, so he tries, “You do know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Of course it was my fault,” Margaret’s tone bites as it comes out, though he can tell the harshness isn’t directed at him, “I’m the one who stabbed you.”

“Stabbed?” Hawkeye echoes incredulously, “Woah, woah, pump the brakes, Margaret. I know I’m being a big baby about it, but let’s not get dramatic. This is a nick!” He exclaims, gesturing at the cut with his free hand for emphasis, “It’s really not that bad! I could still operate with it, remember?” It hurt like a bitch to do so, of course, but he keeps that tidbit to himself, “It’ll be a funny story in a few days, I promise.” 

Margaret shakes her head, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Don’t try to make me feel better, not when I made a stupid mistake like this,” She says, scrubbing a bit harder at the blood that had managed to dry in the lines of his palm, “I could’ve seriously hurt you, and why?” She asks, and then, not waiting for an answer, supplies, “Because I couldn’t keep myself under control.”

“C’mon, Margaret, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Hawkeye pleads, “It was the perfect storm. Literally. The perfect storm to take out our generator, make it so dark you couldn't see properly, and then scare you half to death with thunder so loud you'd think we were being bombed. Half the OR jumped out of their skin, it could’ve happened to anybody!” He insists, “You just happened to be giving me a scalpel and my hand just happened to be within slicing range,” She glares at him and he winces, “Ok, sorry, not my best choice of words. But you get my point- it was an accident.” He presses.

Margaret inspects her work for a moment, examining the cleaned wound. “It won’t need stitches,” She tells him, completely avoiding everything he just said, “But I still need to dress it. Hold still.” She advises, looking away to rummage through his medical bag, which sits between them on the operating table.

“Margaret,” He says. When she doesn’t reply, he tries again, “Margaret.” 

“What?” Margaret shoots another glare at him as she opens a dressing pad, “There’s no excuse for it! What kind of nurse hurts her doctor because she can’t handle a little thunder? What kind of-“ She folds the dressing around the wound and presses it in place a bit harder than necessary, drawing another painful hiss out of him, “Sorry! Sorry,” She’s quick to relax her grip, “I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I’m such a mess…” 

“It’s alright,” Hawkeye reassures her. She doesn’t look convinced, quickly looking away from him and grabbing out a roll of bandages, “But to answer your question, I know exactly what kind of nurse does that,” Her eyes flick to him, unsure, and he tells her, “The human kind.”

Margaret rolls her eyes. "Don't even try that with me, Hawkeye," She turns her attention back to his hand as she starts to wrap. “I should be better than that.”

Hawkeye raises a brow at her. “Better than human?” He asks.

“Yes,” She snips, then quickly corrects, “No. I..." She sighs, her hands coming to a pause, "I don’t know.”

It’s Hawkeye’s turn to frown. “This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” She doesn’t answer. He leans forward into her space, tapping his knee against hers, “What’s going on? Talk to me.” He invites.

"Everything's fine." Margaret replies, automatic.

Hawkeye ducks down, trying to angle himself under her to force the eye contact. "Try again." He prompts.

Margaret closes her eyes, then sighs heavily. "Fine," She meets his eyes at last, “I wouldn’t let what happened today fly if it was one of my nurses who did it. So, I can’t let it fly for me,” She admits, “I’m supposed to be setting an example for them. What kind of example am I setting when I can’t control myself over some thunder? What kind of example will I be setting if this happens during shelling?” She resumes wrapping his injured hand, looping the bandage around his wrist a few times, “I should be able to just… power through. Get over it.” She insists.

Hawkeye can understand where she’s coming from. The weights on their shoulders are different, but similar enough in some ways that he can really feel for her here. He knows how it feels to need to set an example. He knows how it feels when he can’t meet the standard he’s set. He knows how it feels to need to get over something that can’t be gotten over. He knows fear.

But he also knows that the soft, relating approach he would usually employ won’t work with her. She doesn't respond to softness, not when she's feeling like this. The best way to get through to her is to be blunt, direct.

So he asks, “Would you tell me to just get over my claustrophobia?”

Margaret’s eyes snap up to his face again. Her brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“My claustrophobia,” Hawkeye repeats, “You know, the thing that made it so I couldn’t stay in a cave for more than a few seconds. The totally irrational fear that if the place I’m in is small enough, it’ll just run out of air. Would you tell me to just get over that?” He asks.

“Of course not.” Margaret’s reply is immediate, she looks almost offended at the question.

“Alright,” Hawkeye leans in a bit more, “Then why do you think you ‘just need’ to get over your fear of loud noises?” 

She stares at him for a moment. “Because…” She starts, but trails off, “Because… well, because…” A couple more attempts bear nothing. She looks back at his hand, “That’s different.”

He’s not letting her off that easily. “How so?”

“It just is.” She replies stubbornly.

“Explain it to me.” He challenges.

Margaret opens her mouth. Closes it. Then she sighs. “Alright, I see your point,” She concedes, “I suppose I’m being a bit unfair on myself.”

“Only a bit,” Hawkeye agrees, unable to help a little smirk. That quickly softens as he continues, “The only example you’re setting for the nurses is that you’re as human as they are. Because like it or not, Margaret, you’re only human. They won’t think any less of you for that. I know I don’t,” He taps his knee against hers again, this time playfully, “In fact, I think it’s one of your best features.” He cracks, trying to inject some levity.

Margaret considers him for a moment, her eyes searching his face. Then that frown of hers finally softens, her shoulder visibly relaxing as some tension leaves her body. “Thank you, Hawkeye,” She murmurs. She looks down at his hand as she finishes wrapping, holding it gently in both of her own, “I… I am sorry, though. Really.” She adds.

Hawkeye raises a wry brow at her. “It’s gonna be no fun to use this to extort you if you keep acting like a kicked puppy about it,” He informs her. When that doesn’t get a smile on her face, he continues, “It’s fine, Margaret. Really. You did worse to me with the whip that one-“

Her eyes immediately widen like saucers. "Hawkeye!" She hisses, scandalized, quickly looking around the empty OR as if someone might pop up from the shadows to catch them.

Hawkeye laughs, unable to help himself at the sight of the red quickly colouring her cheeks. "Sorry, sorry," He says, even though he's not really sorry at all, “But really- I'm fine. Like I said, it’ll be a funny story a few days from now. And I promise to only use it to get attention from you once per day. Cross my heart,” He crosses his hand over his heart with a teasing grin, “Wouldn’t want to worry you, after all. Even if you fussing over me like this is kinda sweet.” He admits.

Margaret harrumphs, sitting back with a frown, but it quickly becomes obvious she's fighting a smile and losing. "I'm not sweet." She tells him.

"Mm," Hawkeye hums, "Course not, that's why you're still holding my hand," He holds it up to demonstrate, as both her hands follow where they're looped around his wrist, "Kiss it better?" He requests, just to be cheeky.

Margaret raises a brow at him. Then she rolls her eyes, shaking her head as that fond smile he's been trying to draw out finally graces her face. "I bet you think you're cute." She says.

"I'm adorable," He agrees, "C'mon, one little kiss. You know boo-boos can't get better without kisses." He waves his injured hand a little for emphasis.

"Is that your professional opinion, doctor?" She asks. At his eager nod, she giggles quietly, "Alright, alright," And then she brings his hand up to press a quick, delicate kiss to his palm, "There. All better." She says as she lowers his hand back down, covering it with both of her own. 

“Think I could convince you to give me one of those right here?” Hawkeye asks, pointing at his lips. 

Margaret smiles oh-so-sweetly at him. “Not unless you’ve got an injury that needs attention.” She replies. 

“Gimme two minutes to find Charles, I bet I can get him to punch me in the mouth.” He presses.

Margaret laughs, a proper laugh this time. Bright against the gloomy backdrop of the rain outside. "You're ridiculous!" She cackles.

Hawkeye just smiles. "Yeah." He agrees. He's already won his victory- her sunbeam smile, warm and glowing and all too easy to bask in.

[ezekieltobiasfletcher]

Keep It Simple

The worst of my bout with COVID is over. Tomorrow will be two weeks since I noticed the uncomfortable tingle in my throat. Yesterday marks one week since I suffered the worst of it. I am on the mend, but some symptoms still linger. As much as I want them to go away, I need these remaining mild symptoms to linger a little while longer as a reminder. I need to be reminded of the promises I made to my higher power that I would take better care of myself. To sleep when I am tired, and not to use substinances, screens, and people to distract myself from the work and pains of living my life on life's terms. I need to be reminded of how honest I was with myself as I pleaded through prayer to survive this virus. I need to be reminded that I will not find my salvation in thinking about what I need to do. I will only save myself by focusing on my higher power and walking my talk. If I want things to be different, then I need to continue breaking from my old habits and coping mechanisms and act as-if, being different, everyday, one day at a time.

I had very little appetite while I was in the depths of COVID. For a few days, all I could tolerate was Lipton Noodles packets with some added rice. The first day I felt a little better, I knew I needed to consume calories, protein, and fiber to help my decimated digestion system. I decided to keep it simple, and made myself two eggs, scrambled in the pan, and two slices of wheat toast with butter. I also decided to nourish my soul by playing one of my favorite games with my mind. I call it, "look how lucky I am..."

I was raised by an early Boomer mother, born in the latter half of the 1940's. She was raised by parents who grew up during the depression, and she also spent a great deal of time with her maternal grandparents, who together with my maternal grandparents, all survived The Great Depression. The love and hardships that my mom was raised with gave her the ability to always find silver linings and to make do with what she had. I will write more about her someday, but for today, I just want you to know that I am very grateful for her and her simple, everyday values that bring me comfort when I need it most. My mother's spirit is part of the great amalgamation that is my "higher power".

As I was making my breakfast, I put on a YouTube Music playlist called: Depression Era, Golden Age of Radio. I remembered stories I was told about what it was like living through world wars, the 1918 flu, and the Great Depression. While preparing my meal, these memories of stories from my family made me thankful to have a stove, cookware, a toaster, sliced bread, butter, eggs, salt and pepper, and a warm home with indoor hot water plumbing to live in. By my grandparents and great grandparent's standards, I have everything I need to live a good and simple life. By simply having a job and a home in the United States, I am in the top 5% of the world. Look how lucky I am.

As horrible as COVID has been for me, it helped me get to bed earlier, I haven't had any marijuana in two weeks, I've limited my screen time, I removed all the social media apps from the home screen of my phone, I've logged off from work by 5:30pm each day, I'm being more intentional about my meals, and with not getting the munchies from the pot, I'm not snacking all the time like Scooby and Shaggy. And as shitty as being sick was, literal pun intended, I am back to my pre-COVID lockdown weight. So yeah... I'm letting this recent mental bottoming out affect me, and I'm getting out of my own way and drawing even closer to my higher power. Look how lucky I am to be alive and be able to change for the better.

For what it's worth, that meal of eggs, toast, and a small glass of orange juice, it was the most delicious fucking meal I have had in a long time. I never want to forget the depth of gratitude I felt on that morning; ever.

[ronin-deactivated19851026]

so i've been extremely overwhelmed by....... i guess everything online lmao, it's really hard to focus on things when you're constantly bombarded with things you don't really need at the moment

i'm trying to get back into journaling but damn it's so hard. i know my head isn't empty, i spawn walls of texts almost daily, but my mind goes blank when i'm in front of an open notebook because i don't know what's truly worthy of writing down? it's kind of like with drawing at this point. i'm stuck with the art block because i don't know what's worthy of drawing. and guess what made me feel this way? the social media lmfao. i hate that literally every idea i consider cool i never depict because my brain immediately goes like, "who cares about this?", "this won't get noticed and also you're too late, so don't be cringe", etc

i hate this so much idk. anyway, i think i'm going to make a list of things to focus on, both personal projects/artistic inspirations and fandom related ones. i do have things i overfixate on for years, so why am i letting myself be distracted by some random content ideas that only matter to me for like a day or two...?

i should also start limiting inspirations in general, looking at my folder rn and realizing that there are just WAY TOO MANY things i want to incorporate into my work and it really overwhelms me. reminds me of various artists saying that "less is more" and holy crap i should start limiting myself. this is something i slowly started to realize on my own when i did some pixel art, which is limited already due to its nature, with some color palettes instead of randomly staring at a color wheel for half an hour, not being able to decide which one to use.

also i found out about artfol, social media for artists, and so far it seems promising? haven't tried it yet, maybe i will upload some stuff there later. also maybe i'll finally sort everything here on tunglr dot com and make a separate art blog and will use this one as my "main"-diary-esque blog where i won't post much. it's not like i'm on here anyway, my dash feels overwhelming so i don't even scroll past 3-4 posts a day anymore on here. i'm tired of social media. it doesn't feel personal anymore, it's not fun, not interesting...

fomo effect used to fuck me up before something clicked and i stopped scrolling things. because due to nature of the modern internet, i have more chances of stumbling across useful/interesting information if i just keep scrolling through junk. since as you know, google is dead anyway, shit is hard to find these days, and indeed, every cool thing i managed to find was through random braindead scrolling (post 2016 i mean, i miss mid 2000s era when stuff was actually GOOGLEABLE and you didn't need to scroll long ass feed to stumble across cool things, you could get there at your own pace while just surfing the web). so the habit was made worse by "damn what if i miss some obscure post that features obscure cool thing that will matter to me once i get to know it??" but i'm just so fucking exhausted... everything i love about the internet because so dormant, niche even. the internet, as i define it, is dead to me. it's really heartbreaking

[chocoenvy]

heyo, it’s me pretty anon. (i like it better than bully anon too :))

i think i fucked up

so, i’ll keep this simple since i need to go to bed cause it’s like 4:30am and i get up at 8 lmao.

since the cruise my dad and step-mom decided to physically split as well. my dad is signing for a divorced in the next couple of days. my step-mom is in a completely different state rn with her youngest daughter and mother. my mom mom doesn’t know about the divorced and honestly i think no one’s told her since we don’t wanna hear it.

so um, i haven’t really gotten a chance to talk to anyone about this stuff since i live in a small town and everyone knows everyone yknow? so firstly, thank you for letting me vent. it’s nice to talk to someone the same age anonymously. you give good advice.

anyway, all of this has kinda been building up on me, which is super weird cause i thought i wouldn’t care. i’m a senior in high school rn so it’s not like i can’t go visit her once i graduate. and my dad and step mom are both encouraging me to keep up a relationship with her. she wasn’t really around much and when she was it was only ever good one on one since with my dad it would be borderline abusive. (or maybe actually abusive, i’m not really sure i know how to identify it. it just seems normal to me)

my dad also asked me if i had contacted my step mom like a couple days after she left. i’d been wanting to but i had no idea what to say to her. so i didn’t. he said to me, and i don’t think i’ll ever forget this, “oh. i thought you loved her.” in the most casual tone. my heart is broken. i got really upset with him and he literally could not comprehend why. i’m starting to second guess myself if i loved her or not. i know for a fact that i did, but does she know it?

so yknow the new ios 16 update? weird change of pace i know but i swear it’s important. well i just decided like an hour ago to get it and i fucking hate it. fun fact, if you have spotify on and your phone turns off then they change YOUR LOCKSCREEN to match the spotify song. wtf. well i started off hating it cause i had to scroll through over 2,000 photos just to find the exact same ones i was currently using (it’s venti and xiao btw) and i started hyperventilating.

well i was doing my daydreams when i realized the spotify thing. and i completely stopped. i had a full blown panic attack for at least 45 minutes. i was hyperventilating so hard i honestly thought i was going to passed out. i later down so i at least wouldn’t fall and everything.

i think i panicked because of all the penh up emotions that i have going on rn.

after i finally calmed down, i went over to plug in my chrome book for school. and then i remembered i had an eyebrow razor in my backpack…

i think you know what i meant when i said i fucked up.

it was only four cuts. not deep enough to draw blood except for one, all tiny on my thigh where no one can see them. i can’t believe i did it though. and the worst part, the absolute worst part is, the relief i felt? it’s like i actually have control.

i know you said the ice cube method. i’ve actually told other freinds going through a hard time about it too. but at the moment, i just wasn’t thinking straight.

im scared im gonna do it again. any ideas on what i should do? lol

with love, pretty anon

HELLO PRETTY <33 I'm so sososososo sorry for answering this so late but!

tw: self harm, relapses, sensitive topics

It's completely valid and I cannot fault you for relapsing it is a very normal part of healing. So long as you get back up, everything will be okay I promise.

But! I remembered an app that I had come across some years ago. I forgot the name and when I tried to look it up i found calm harm.

The app I thought of describes self harm as a wave. The want to harm yourself flows in and then out. It comes and goes. The trick is to distract yourself before the feeling takes over your actions. Calm Harm definitely helps with it from what I've seen. I've never tried these apps though. There are also counters that count how long you've gone without cutting if that kind of thing helps.

Would definitely recommend! As well as watching videos or creating a playlist full of videos/songs that make you happy! Find something that makes you happy and hold onto it for when you need it! I can completely understand not being in the right state of mind and forgetting it which is why you should have it on your phone so you can access it before you can access something else. It also helps if you're ever in public - or even in private - and need to calm down.

Gather resources to prepare for these down times. It'll help!

I understand that self harm can feel good, god trust me I know, but it's not worth it. There are other things that can make you feel better than self harm can. And I can't speak for you but after I self harm I just feel so much shame?? And fear?? Mostly because I don't want someone to find them but I just feel ashamed.

I can't explain it and I really don't have much room to talk because I'm still stuck in self harm. But if it means anything, I would be very proud to see you heal from this <3

I'm glad you can talk about this anonymously but if you ever need to talk to me one on one my dms are always open <3

Take care! And I'm sorry for answering so late, I hope you're okay <33

[phireflies]

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗲

eddie gives you drawing ideas when you're experiencing art block. [wc; 2.3k]

pairing; eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings; swearing and fluff, i think that's literally it (written on my phone so mistakes too)

a/n; is this completely self-indulgent... maybe... i will edit this when i wake up i swear

"i'm at a loss, eds," you say, throwing yourself onto his bed, arms and legs splayed out.

"why's that?" he was fiddling with the strings on his guitar, not looking up at you.

you sigh. "my sketchbook is like, empty and i have to turn it in by friday."

"that's in two days," he states.

"wow really? i didn't know that."

"teasing." he laughs, putting his guitar down, finally looking at you. "all outta ideas?" you nod. "draw me."

when you sit up, your face is so close to his, noses almost touching. "i can't draw you, i'll mess it up."

"then it'll be abstract. c'mon, i'll sit like a statue, i promise!”

you laugh so hard you throw your head back. the thought of eddie munson sitting still, like a statue no less, was wild. he couldn't stop fidgeting as if his life depended on it.

looking over at him, you noticed that he would make a good subject. his hands were really nice after all, the rings the cherry on top. you loved his eyes too, and his hair, and his nose. everything about him.

"okay," you say, smiling. he leans in so your nose touches his, and smiles. "i can draw you."

"fuck yeah, babe! can you do it with a colored pencil? you have those right?"

you nod. "i only have red and blue though."

"red, red's my favorite color."

you nod again, confirming the color. eddie had taken you home, to his home, after school like always, so you had all of your art supplies with you. it wasn't much, a few hb pencils, pens, and two colored pencils.

inside, eddie was freaking out. he loved your art, and would shower you with compliments and kisses when you showed him a new piece, throwing in a few can you draw hellfire posters? too.

he'd never thought to ask for a portrait before. maybe it was because some part of him, something very deep down inside him, thought it would be scary to see someone else's interpretation of him. he was excited nevertheless.

you pulled out your sketchbook with almost twenty-five percent of it filled and sighed, letting your fingers roam around the cover - feeling the divots of when you pushed your pencil too hard in to make a mark, meaningless doodles, and words.

"you can go back to doing whatever, i can go from there."

eddie kissed your temple and leaned back to get his guitar. he started messing with the strings again as if they weren't perfect the first time around.

you looked around eddies room, which had somewhat become your room. wayne suggested you move in, to help keep it clean. eddie even made a stack of your clothes on his floor.

"what's the theme of this one? they all got themes, right?" he asked, half distracted.

"uh, not sure. think it's something like family or your idea of home."

eddie smiled to himself. "yeah? you're okay with putting me with that theme?"

you started sketching out his room, the perspective a little wonky but it would turn out fine. "'course eds, not to be all cheesy but you're kinda my idea of home." you are my home, you want to say.

"that's awfully sweet of you." he teases again, but neither of you can deny the blush creeping onto his face. it starts at the tip of his ears. "just so happens that you're my idea of home too. i mean, you put your shoes next to mine!" he repeats what you said, but leaves out the kinda.

you laugh hard again, but don't reply. you relish at this moment, of eddie doing whatever he does, back towards you, but still touching you, and you doing what you love, of who you love.

your focus is turned back onto the page as you start to slowly add in blocks, mapping out the clothes on his floor, the posters, and little trinkets. crosshatching is used to add depth and shadows and make it all look a little better, more real.

when it's finished, you write home at the top right and sign your name under. "look, eds."

"you're a modern da vinci, babe." he pretends to not see the title at the top but smiles like an idiot to himself when he turns away.

you move on to the next page. anatomy. it was never something that you were particularly good at, everything looking a little off.

eddie's backside turns out to be a great reference. you start out with the outline of his back and his hair, then you slowly add details in, carving them in. you don't offer to show him this one.

next, you draw the guitar, where it hangs in front of the mirror. eddie moved on to messing with his amp. you draw the pick on his nightstand, and the box of cigarettes, though you don't draw the label. it's just a box on paper, but you know it's more.

"s'it working?" he asks. you've gotten caught up in your drawing that you didn't realize he sat right next to you again.

you hum, nodding. "i'm tired already."

it was pretty late, and you were pretty tired. "m'tired too. you sure this burst of inspiration won't disappear by tomorrow?"

"nope, because you'll still be here, i hope."

he smiles wide again. idiot, you think. my idiot. "always gonna be here."

with that, eddie helps you get situated to sleep, and you're out.

when the birds outside wake you up, you're excited to draw, your hands itching. you're excited because you get to draw eddie. the entire day was going to be focused on drawing him, his features and his hands and his tattoos, everything that makes him eddie.

because of how the trailer is set, the sun shines bright through his window, perfectly highlighting eddie. the sheets have slid down to his lower back, so you can see the curves of his back and the few light freckles on his shoulders.

it’s perfect, he’s perfect. you have to draw him.

moving as slowly as you can, you reach down to grab your sketchbook off the floor, along with a colored pencil. you mark down the general shape of him, and then work on his face - half in the pillow with furrowed eyebrows and pouted lips. you wonder what he was dreaming about.

you make sure to get the way his hair falls into his eyes and over his shoulder, a few distinct curls on his cheek.

“freak.” he mutters, opening his eyes a smidge.

“you asked for this.”

he huffs, slowly getting up with a groan. “guess i did. can i see?”

you shake your head and move the sketchbook away. “not yet, when i get it back. monday.” you say, promising.

“monday.” he agrees. “d’you want eggs? think that’s all we got.”

you nod. “eggs sound perfect, eds.” smiling, you think back on all of the other times eddie made eggs and how he dumped salt on them.

he stands up to find a shirt and pants, but not before he presses a kiss to your temple and each cheek.

you follow him into the kitchen, still clutching the sketchbook. wayne’s sitting in his chair, sipping a coffee. it was rare to see him so early.

“hi wayne.” you say, to which he turns back and waves.

“you know she’s an artist right?” eddie says, cracking four eggs into a hot pan. they sizzle.

wayne laughs. “‘course i do, you show me everything she’s ever given you.”

your face heats up at the new knowledge. “you do?”

eddie looks sheepish, like you weren’t supposed to know. he shrugs, a red blush painting his face. “i mean, yeah, sometimes.”

“all the time!” wayne corrects with a loud laugh.

eddie scowls playfully and returns to his cooking. attempt at cooking.

while eddie begins to plate the eggs, wayne departs, reminding you to show him more art. wayne was your second biggest fan, after eddie of course.

eddie, thankfully, learned how much salt is too much, so the eggs were edible. “wish we had bacon or something.” he says with his mouth full of food. you’d scold him for that, but you were too enamored with the sight before you.

his hair was a mess, his eyes were still droopy and half-lidded, and he was smiling at you once he swallowed his food. his smile. you wanted it burned into your memory forever.

“this is good.” you manage.

“you’re staring.” he states, smiling even wider.

you scoff, trying to play it off. “i do not stare!”

eddie’s finished with his eggs, so he gets up to clean his plate. he kissed your head as he passes you. “i stare at you too. in a completely normal way, though.”

“that was a normal way!” you join him in cleaning your plate.

the rest of the morning continues like it always does, brushing your teeth together, and getting dressed together, and leaving together.

the rest of the day, however, doesn’t go like you hope it does. you don’t see eddie for much of it, and all you want to do is draw him. it’s a funny feeling, not wanting to do anything but draw and draw and draw. maybe it was something eddie-specific.

before you knew it, you were walking into the drama room to watch eddie’s dungeons and dragons campaign.

the boys all lit up at the sight of you, waving and greeting you, then getting back into setting up.

“babe! how’d the drawing thing go today?” he asked, pulling you aside.

you shrugged. “didn’t do much, didn’t see you much.” he frowns. “i can do more tonight though!”

“you’ll show me?”

you smile, shrugging. “can’t make any promises.”

“god, you’re awful.”

eddie laughs loudly before running to begin the campaign. you have a seat near the table, where you can see the party to either side and eddie in the middle. the glow of the florescent light make it look like he’s got a halo around his head.

as the group progresses in the campaign and gets more rowdy, you decide to draw it. a little sketch, nothing too detailed. you’ve adopted the younger kids, so they fit in with the theme. found family, you think.

eddie’s in the middle with his arms out, and everyone else is at the sides, smiling wide with unique expressions on their faces.

you’ve still got a good chunk of sketchbook left, so you draw the party’s characters. it’s a little unclear what the exact vision was for all of them, but you do the best you can. you end up with numerous half-rendered pieces of their dungeons and dragons characters with the respective player labeled at the top.

by the time you’re done, they’ve finished the session and are cleaning up.

“was that a good one?” you ask when eddie’s done.

he puts a hand on your waist and leads you out to his van. he nods. “one of the best. think you’re my lucky charm, babe.”

“that’s cheesy.”

he pauses, thinking. “you’re right, but wasn’t that sweet? i just came up with that!”

you laugh and push his shoulder. “i could tell.”

“you’re evil.” he smiles, no real harm behind his words. “what’d you draw?“

eddie starts his van and begins to drive out of the school lot. “just you and the party, their characters, stuff like that.”

“y’know, they’d love to see that stuff.”

you nod. “i’ll tear out the pages when it’s all graded. they can keep it if they deem it worthy of their vision.”

eddie snorts. “they love you, of course they’d love it!”

you want to disagree, but eddie turns up his music so you can’t. you glare at him, but it eventually fades into an endearing smile.

once you’re at his trailer again, you’re quick to pick up where you left off - sketching his hands doing whatever he’s doing, in this case, smoking.

you draw his hand with a cigarette between his first and second finger, lightly sketching a line to make a string of smoke. you make sure to get his rings. you continue onto his arm, where he’s rolled up the sleeve. his tattoos are visible, so you draw them too. accuracy is not a concern, as you already know you’ve got them down perfectly. you know him like the back of your hand.

“think you’ll finish by tomorrow?”

you nod, drawing his side profile. “sure i will, i’ve got enough you to last a lifetime.”

“god.” he sighs, smiling to himself.

the page is full, so you turn to the next and focus on his eyes. what they look like when he smiles, the wrinkles in the corners, eyelashes kissing. what they look like when he’s happy and full of fondness. what they look like closed.

“you’re gonna get frostbite.” he says, pulling you you up and into the trailer.

“it’s seventy degrees.”

“it happens, heat frostbite.”

you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “so… heatstroke?”

“maybe.”

the rest of the night is filled with laughter and funny looks as you try to get eddie’s not-so-patient expression down on the page. you’d have to see the real thing though, a pencil can only do so much.

the remaining pages of your sketchbook are filled with his hands. floating hands cut off at the wrist, just doing random things - holding a pick, practicing guitar, attempting homework, hold your hand. that was the hardest, trying to hold his and draw with the other.

“fucking finally.” you swear, wiping your forehead. “finally finished.”

“proud of you. all of little ole me too.” he smiles smugly, poking your side. “you’re gonna get the best grade on that goddamn sketchbook.”

you laugh, looking at him. admiring him. “i think i did well. you’re my muse now.”

eddie laughs loudly, trying to hide the growing blush on his face. to be someone’s muse was an honor, to be your muse.

you were eddie’s muse, numerous corroded coffin songs being written about you or with you in mind. two different artists, but you were all the same.

[mackenzielovee]

crazy love (part 3) - rafe cameron

a/n: GUYS i'm so excited to give you part 4!!!! it's gonna get juicy!!! i hope you love this. i've genuinely never been this excited over a story before. (not my gif - but it fucks me up)

Summary: You realize what you want. And you realize that is Rafe Cameron.

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing.

Word Count: 5.7k+

series masterlist

my writing

Your jaw drops as you look over at Rafe, who has gone from partial to sheer amusement. You look at him, as if asking 'what do i do?' to which he shrugs, as if to say 'I don't care'. You turn to the mirror and fix your hair, then, with shaky hands, emerge from your bathroom. You set a reminder in your head to kick Rafe's ass for not giving even half a shit that you two could get caught right now.

"JJ," you greet, slipping through the bathroom door and shutting it quickly behind you.

JJ lights up when he sees you, rushing over and pulling you into his arms. You hug him back, mainly just to try and distract him from two things. The first being the bundle of food in a to-go bag that rests on your floor, clearly too much for one person. The second is Rafe's truck keys, which he threw down on your bed while he was climbing in the window. Luckily, JJ's back is to both items, so you try your best to keep it that way.

"Hey," he rubs your back, "I'm sorry to barge in. I just really wanted to see you."

You nod once you pull away from his hug, keeping a grip on his arm so he doesn't turn around. You truly have no idea how you're going to cover the keys without drawing attention to the food.

"It's okay," you shake your head.

"How are you?" he asks, bringing a hand up to rub the soft skin on your cheek.

You swallow, trying not to give away the fact that you had literally had an orgasm ten minutes ago.

"Sleepy," you lie. You couldn't be more wide awake.

He laughs lightly at you, and you watch as he stares at you in adoration. You watch him, too, and note how much he really seems to care for you. It affirms for you that you just can't tell him what's happened - you can't hurt him like that.

"I thought you were going out on the boat," you state.

"Decided not to," he shrugs, obviously not wanting to address it.

"You did? Or they did?"

"Honey-"

"JJ."

"I decided not to," he admits, "I just- I feel like you left pretty abruptly last night and I wanted to make sure you're okay. And we're okay."

You bring your hand up, stroking his cheek. His skin isn't as soft as Rafe's but you still feel happy to be so close to him. JJ's always been a big piece of your heart, even if he can get on your nerves often. He's just too clingy for you.

"I'm fine. We're fine," you tell him, keeping your voice soft.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

JJ smiles and then tries to turn, but you hold tight to him so he doesn't. He looks at you in confusion, so you plaster a smile on your face to convince him everything's fine.

"I actually can't hang out, though," you tell him, eyeing the food again, "Macy and I are gonna hang out."

Macy, your little sister, isn't even home. But JJ doesn't know that.

"Is that who all the food's for?" he chuckles, pointing to the bag he noticed when he walked in.

"Yeah," you nod, wondering if he also noticed the car keys.

If he did, he doesn't draw attention to them. He nods and then untangles himself from you, stepping toward the door. You take a split second to rush over to your bed, pulling the comforter over Rafe's car keys.

"Can we talk tonight? Maybe FaceTime?" he asks, standing at the door and waiting for you to come kiss him goodbye.

"Sure," you nod. You can handle a FaceTime call. The look of happiness on his face makes your heart ache.

You know JJ's so sweet, and you're lucky to have a guy like him. You really wish he did it for you. But you just can't get there. You know you're being selfish by holding onto him, and the guilt is starting to suffocate you as you glance at the bathroom door once more. You half expected Rafe to come out here just for the hell of it.

"Okay, love," he kisses your cheek, "Have fun with Macy. I'll call ya later."

You nod and then give him a quick peck on the lips. He smiles and then opens the door, slipping out quickly. You sigh and press your body up against it, relieved that nothing bad came of JJ's surprise visit. Even if he runs into your parents, you know it won't turn into anything. It'll be a quick 'hello' and then out the front door.

You rush back into your bathroom and find Rafe in the same position on the floor, still cleaning his shoes. When you enter, he looks up at you with the widest smirk you've ever seen in your life.

"So," he starts, already making you roll your eyes, "How'd that go, Mrs. Maybank?"

"Shut up," you grumble, sitting down on the vanity again. Surprisingly, Rafe makes no effort to come over to you. He just goes back to his shoes.

"You know, you could just break up with him."

Rafe's words are blunt, and he won't meet your eyes for a reason. He doesn't want to put pressure on you to make a choice, given your conversation yesterday, but he thinks you staying with JJ is beyond pointless.

"I don't want to hurt him, Rafe," you reason.

Rafe huffs, trying not to roll his eyes at you, "How's he gonna feel when he finds out I've been fucking you?"

You throw your head back, banging it into the wall. Rafe's eyes shoot up at the noise, but when he realizes you're fine, he sighs and goes back to cleaning.

"Are you almost done with that?" you snap at him, "It's been forever."

"Well, I stopped to listen to the show."

The smirk on his face is so evident that you throw your deodorant stick at him. He ducks and avoids it easily, but clearly doesn't learn his lesson.

"Can we talk tonight?" he mocks, then laughs loudly, "Maybe FaceTime?"

"Rafe, knock it off," you say, not even bothering to pretend you find it funny.

"Oh, come on," Rafe groans, "You're not really into all that, are you?"

You shrug, moving your attention to a loose thread on your shirt. Of course you're into it. Knowing JJ wants to talk to you makes you feel good. It makes you glad that someone out there does.

"Jesus, baby," Rafe stands up, "I don't mean to sound like an asshole. But I know you. That doesn't do it for you."

You roll your eyes, but deep down, you know he's right. It sounds toxic as hell when Rafe says it, though. As nice as it is to know JJ wants to talk to you, it's not enough.

"Can we eat, now?" you change the subject.

Rafe nods his head, ready to ease up on his attitude. He picks you up the same way he carried you in here, and although you both know you can walk, he just wants to feel you around him.

He sets you down on your bed and then picks up the bag of food, carrying it over to you. He digs out all the different boxes and spreads them out, then hands you a fork. He'd gotten everything; hashbrowns, eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage and muffins.

You two laugh when you get syrup on your chin, but it gives Rafe an excuse when he licks it off. He lets you have the last piece of sausage, even though he hates bacon and refuses it when you tell him there's more left. By the time the food is gone, you and Rafe are practically in a food coma. You lay back on the bed and groan while Rafe tucks the empty boxes back into the bag and throws it on the floor.

He cuddles his way into your space, kissing your neck and your jawline softly. You moan and he continues, but then you push him off. He's confused and makes a face at you, to which you explain quickly.

"Too full," you grumble.

Rafe groans, throwing his head back, "Next time, I'm bringing something light."

You laugh and then move onto your side, using your hand to support your head as you stare at him. He looks up at you, taking in every detail. Your eyes, your nose, the way you part your hair, everything. He's missed too much.

"Surprised you're not with Topper and Kelce today."

"Golf on Wednesday," he informs you, "In the evening. I'll be unavailable, so don't text. You'll have to settle for mediocre sex."

You sigh as Rafe laughs at his own joke, but feels guilty quickly. He reaches over and grabs your other hand, bringing it up to his heart. He lays your palm flat on his chest, the fabric of his shirt being the only thing between your skin.

"I'm scared, Rafe," you admit quietly. He gives you a confused look, then sits up himself. You leave your hand where it is.

"Of what, gorgeous?"

You smile softly, "Of you. You really hurt me last time."

He frowns, looking down at your hand on his chest instead of in your eyes.

"I know. I know I did, baby. And I'm sorry."

You nod your head, then move your hand up to his cheek. You're sure, when your skin touches his, that you were meant to touch him forever.

"So, what do you want?" you ask him after a minute, "Like, with me?"

He furrows his eyebrows, but he knows exactly what you're talking about. He leans over and kisses you gently, then pulls back and whispers against your lips, "Everything."

You grin, pulling him in for another kiss. You both know then that it's going to turn into something else. You crawl into his lap, feeling his hands grab your ass as he continues to kiss you. You grab onto his neck, trying to pull him even closer.

"Goddamn," Rafe mutters in between kisses, "You're really fucking good at this."

You wake up hours later, naked and tangled under your sheets, Rafe snoring softly above you. Full bellies and a lot of sex seems to be a recipe for an early afternoon nap. You reach across him and check your phone, seeing it's later in the afternoon now. You look up and note how Rafe's feet hang off the edge of your bed because he's so tall. You laugh, but keep yourself quiet so as not to wake him.

When your eyes trail up to the sleeping boy in your bed, your mind is made up in an insant. Yes, Rafe hurt you last time. Yes, Rafe was an asshole before. Still kind of is. But every time you look at him, your stomach turns. In a good way. You get those butterflies and feelings that no other person on this planet has ever given you. You need him the same way you need air to breathe. You're addicted, obsessed even, and you don't mind a single bit.

You're going to break up with JJ. That's what you decide when you bring your hand up to his face, using the base of your thumb to stroke the skin underneath is eye. You try to be gentle, so as not to wake him.

"It's you," you whisper to him as he breathes in and out, on pace every time, "It's totally you, Rafe Cameron."

You smile and then lay your head back down on his chest with a quick kiss to his neck. His breathing never falters, never stops or fumbles. But when you lay your head back down and breathe him in, you don't notice Rafe opening his eyes. He stares at the top of your head for what feels like hours, keeping his breathing steady in case you have anything else to say to him.

After a while, he takes a deep breath and then yawns, hoping he fakes you out. You lift your head up and smile at him, completely convinced that he's just decided to join you.

"Afternoon, baby," he smiles, his sleepy voice making your heart skip a beat.

"Hi."

"What time is it?"

He flicks his wrist up to look at his Rolex, answering his own question. It's later than he thought. He smiles down at you and runs his hand through your hair.

"I gotta get going," he whispers.

"No," you pout, wrapping both your arms and legs around his body to keep him. As if he couldn't just pick you up, the same way he had done before.

"Aw, come on," he groans, but really, his heart swells at your gesture.

"Rafe," you whimper, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He groans even louder, bringing one hand underneath the covers and down to your butt.

"Don't start that shit with me," he warns you.

You just shake your head and remove yourself from him, rolling to the other side of the bed. He laughs at you but stands up anyway, dressing himself again. Once he buckles his belt, he crawls back into the bed and lays on top of the comforter, trying to kiss you on the cheek.

"Come on, pretty girl. Gimme a kiss."

You shake your head and bury your face in the blankets, making it impossible for Rafe to kiss you. You're not totally fucking with him, you really don't want him to go.

"Baby," he says, voice stern, "Give me a goddamn kiss."

His command makes you spin around in the sheets, opening your eyes to find a dominant look in his eye. He knows it gets you every time. He watches as you smile, trying to hide it in your sheets.

"There she is," he smirks, leaning down and forcing the blankets away from your face.

"Don't leave," you pout as he kisses on your cheeks.

He sighs against your skin, like you're frustrating the hell out of him. He shakes his head and moves his lips down to your jawline.

"You know I'd stay if I could," he mumbles against your skin, "But, Dad."

"Fine," you mutter.

You don't fight him when he brings his lips back to yours to kiss you. He bites your bottom lip and pulls it back with his teeth, turning you on. He almost hates that he's turning you on and then leaving, but he just couldn't resist.

"FaceTime you tonight!" Rafe teases as he jumps up from the bed.

"Get out, Cameron," you grumble, tossing up your middle finger at him.

"See you later, baby," he grins as he pulls the window up.

He had fished his car keys out of your sheets when he accidentally rolled you over them. You had yelled out an 'ow', to which Rafe told you to stop being dramatic before he quite literally shut you up with his dick.

"Feel free to send pics later. I'll be thinking about you, anyway," his devilish grin takes over his face.

You roll your eyes, "Go."

He grins once more and then climbs out the window. You roll over in your bed, already feeling cold and lonely. You could spend all the time in the world with him and it still wouldn't be enough.

You FaceTime JJ later that night. You feel guilty, considering you've made up your mind about ending things with him, but you refuse to do so over the phone. He deserves better than that, and you know it. He chats with you about how Pope tripped and fell out on the porch earlier, then informs you that he works a night shift on Wednesday at the Club. You remember that's the day Rafe's golfing with the boys, but you don't tell JJ that. For obvious reasons.

He hangs up with you after about an hour, wishing you sweet dreams and promising he'll be around to collect you before school in the morning.

You take a deep breath when you hang up with him, promising yourself that you'll end things with him tomorrow after school. You'd just be a bitch if you did it on the way to school. You want him to be able to focus on his classes before you break his heart.

The thought of knowing you're going to break his heart makes you cry. You never wanted to hurt him. You never wanted to feel this way about Rafe, and although you can admit you've gone about it in a round-about way, you know Rafe is who you're meant to be with. You lay in bed and feel it all, debating whether or not you should tell JJ you've been with Rafe. You know the look on his face will be absolutely gut wrenching, and you're horrified of making him feel worse than he already will.

As you cry, and debate, and worry, you realize you can still smell Rafe on your sheets. You breathe in the scent on your pillow, allowing it to comfort you. As if on cue, your phone vibrates on the nightstand.

Rafe: Bummed. No pics. Just kidding. Had a great day with you. Learned a lot, such as: bring less food, three fingers makes you come quickest, and listen to you when you think I'm asleep. Goodnight, gorgeous.

Your heart drops to your stomach at his last comment. Listen to you when you think I'm asleep. You realize what you had said to him, how you told him it was totally him. Your face flushes crimson, and you're really glad he can't see you. Your phone buzzes again before you can respond.

Rafe: P.S., if you're on the phone with pretty boy right now, tell him I said it's my turn on FaceTime.

You roll your eyes, knowing Rafe is having too much fun teasing you about JJ and his FaceTime request. You type out your response, reading over it about four times before you click send.

It's you, Rafe Cameron. And P.S., not on the phone. P.S.S., no pics for you.

You know it will make him laugh, which is all you really care about. You don't have to worry about whether you're being too flirty or not flirty enough, because you already have him. That's the most amazing feeling in the world to you.

Rafe: Gonna have to take a few of my own then. Maybe when my head is between your legs.

Thinking about me, are ya?

Rafe: Always, baby. Phone sex?

No. Busy on the phone with JJ ;)

Rafe: Ha ha. Hit me up when you come. Next month.

Like you could do better?

Rafe: I made you come in three minutes this morning. In your bathroom. Yeah, I can do better.

Sure. Goodnight, Rafe Cameron. Sleep tight.

Rafe: Busy dreaming of you. Goodnight, pretty girl.

JJ's early picking you up the next morning. He comes up to your room, leaving all your friends in the car, and greets you. He kisses you on the lips, making a joke about sending your friends on their way so the two of you could have sex before school. You had just laughed, telling him silently that wasn't an option.

He walks you downstairs, hand in his, admiring how you look. Even though it's just jeans and a t-shirt, you still look beautiful to him.

"I feel like I barely spent time with you this weekend," JJ tells you as you close your front door, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

You're not sure why he's apologizing, when you know good and well you were the one who kicked him out of your room yesterday. You shrug, telling him silently that the time away didn't affect you the same way it did him.

"It's fine," you tell him, walking over to the van. You pull open the door and smile to your friends, who all look so exhausted they could kill your happy ass.

"What's gotten into you?" John B grumbles as he stares at your wide smile.

Rafe Cameron, you think.

"Come on," you say as you climb in, wrapping your arms around Kie and giving her a squeeze, "It's a beautiful day! You guys just need to adjust your attitude."

John B glances at JJ with a disgusted look, "Is she high?"

"Dunno," JJ shrugs, enjoying you too much to care why you're happy all of the sudden.

"No," you laugh, patting John B's arm. He gives JJ a shrug, as if to silently tell him you might be drunk.

"So, let's analyze," Pope speaks up, turning around in the passenger seat, "Y/N is a wild child all summer, then starts dating JJ and chills out of her party phase, gets super depressed for weeks, then we all run into the Kooks at the Halloween bonfire, and all of the sudden she's perked back up again. I think we can all figure out what's going on here."

You stare at Pope, trying to figure out if he genuinely has it figured out. A part of you wants to tell him to shut up, because JJ would never connect the bonfire events to your mood changes now. You almost wish you were better at hiding your happiness.

"Well?" Kie questions impatiently

"Pope-"

"She parties with Kooks," he states, as if it's obvious, "That must have been what Rafe was talking to her about-"

"No," John B speaks up, "She told me she's never met Rafe before. And I specifically asked if she'd ever been to a Kook rager-"

"Well, maybe she's never been to a rager, just a party."

"Same difference, Pope."

"If you asked me if I've ever been to a rager, I'd say no-"

"Well, that's because you study on Friday nights."

"My house is quiet then!"

"And why is that, huh?"

"My parents go out."

"Your parents go out, dude. And you don't."

"All right," you interrupt Pope and John B's incessant back and forth, "Can we just go to school, please?"

Kie nods her head in agreement, not sure why any of you were analyzing your mood swings. She just always assumes you're either pregnant or fighting with JJ and not wanting to involve everyone else.

John B turns around and starts the van, watching in the rear view as JJ moves beside you and wraps an arm around you.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks.

You nod, then give him a cheesy smile. He returns it, of course he does, because you just look so cute.

"Good. Sorry about them."

You sigh and lean your head on his shoulder, feeling him press his cheeks against the top of your head.

"They're my friends, too. You don't have to apologize."

"I know. I'm sorry."

School comes and goes quickly. It's almost like the time is teasing you, ticking by faster than it normally would because you're dreading the end of the day. As much as you're going to hate doing this, it's in JJ's best interest. You can't keep lying to him. He deserves an opportunity to be with someone who sees a future with him.

He waits for you by the main doors in and out of the building once school is over. When he spots you, a big grin forms on his face. He holds out his hand as you get nearer to him, and you feel your heart sink. Your first instinct when you touch him is to be selfish. To hold on and not let him go because a part of you loves the little things, even if the big things aren't enough for you. Just as Rafe pointed out.

JJ's the boy who texts you every fifteen minutes to check on you when you're not feeling well. He's the boy who bought you four different kinds of flowers one night just because he couldn't decide which ones were prettiest. He's the one who wants to FaceTime you and talk to you before he falls asleep; the one who doesn't go out on the boat because he's worried about you. And you were about to give all that up.

"I was thinking," you say to him as the two of you approach the van, hand in hand, "Maybe we could hang out after school. Just us."

JJ's sure he has whiplash by the way he yanks his head to the side to look at you. Alone time with you sounds like just what he needs to feel better about his crazy day. He had a ton of homework, which he probably wouldn't do.

"Absolutely," he agrees, grinning widely.

The two of you wander back to your house after promising the friends you'd come back to eat with them later. You know you probably won't be in attendance, but you tell them you'll be there anyway.

When you get up to your bedroom, JJ collapses on your bed and smiles. He obviously wants you to join him, but you sit down at your desk instead. JJ sits up after that, knowing something's up.

"What is it?" he asks, staring and watching your movements as if that will clue him in.

"I've been thinking."

JJ's eyes widen as he shrugs, as if to silently ask what that means. As much as he would love to be able to, he can't read your mind.

"Sweetheart-"

"JJ, I think-"

"Sorry."

"Sorry."

Both of your cheeks flush when you interrupt the other, making you sigh and sit back in your chair. JJ sits up even further, as if he's pulled toward you when you move back.

"JJ," you start again, "I think, um, I think this isn't working anymore."

JJ stares at you, a blank expression on his face. He blinks, then glances down at the chair you're sitting in.

"Well, if it's not rocking back, I can try to fix it. I knew that thing was a piece of shit when I put it together for you."

You close your eyes and shake your head, "What?"

JJ points to the chair you're sitting in, "Your chair isn't working anymore?"

"Oh, my God," you groan. The last thing you want to do is repeat yourself. It was hard enough to say it the first time.

"It's not a big deal, honey. I have tools back at the house-"

"No, JJ," you stop him, "Us. We're not working anymore."

JJ sits back now, relaxing his back. He stares at you, waiting on you to take it back. When you don't speak, he starts to process your words.

"So, the chair's fine?"

You groan again, "JJ, the fucking chair is fine."

He frowns and stares at the ground. You watch him, wondering what he's really thinking about.

"That's some fine craftsmanship, then," he mumbles.

You set your head in your hands, wondering when the hell he's gonna stop talking about your desk chair. He's quiet for a while, and when he speaks, it almost scares you.

"So, you don't think this is working?" he clarifies.

You look up at him and nod, watching him frown once again.

"Funny," he scoffs, "I happen to think we're working like a well-oiled machine. Or your desk chair, apparently."

You try so hard not to roll your eyes. He's focusing on the desk chair, you realize, because it's easy. Easier to process than the fact that you only invited him over here to break up with him.

"JJ, it's not you-"

"Don't," he shakes his head, "It obviously is."

You sigh, but don't know what else to tell him. You've decided not to disclose that you're seeing Rafe right now. He doesn't need to get hurt any more than he already is.

"I mean," he says after a minute, but then shakes his head, "Why?"

"I just..." you trail off, then start back up once you decide what you want to say, "I'm not happy. And I know, with my moods and everything, that I can't be making your life easy-"

"I don't care," he says quickly, moving from the bed to the floor and setting his hands on your thighs, "I don't care about my life being easy. We live on the damn Cut, Y/N. It's never gonna be easy. But I want it to be annoyingly difficult, with you."

You close your eyes and exhale, which makes JJ lose all hope that he can convince you to stay with him. He can tell there's more, even if you're dead set on claiming this was the reason.

"I'm sorry, JJ," you say, "I just can't do this anymore."

He shakes his head, begging you silently to change your mind. You have to look away when his eyes get glossy.

"Please, sweetheart," he says, his voice cracking, "Don't do this."

You take his head in your hands and wipe away the tears with the base of your thumb. He smiles under your touch, wondering if this is the last time he'll ever feel it.

"I never wanted to hurt you," you whisper, your eyes steaming up as well.

"I finally got you," he says, more to himself than to you, "And now I don't anymore. Please, honey. I'll fix it. Whatever I did. Just tell me."

You smile, letting a tear fall from your eye. This sweet boy, this man, deserves someone so good. Someone better than you.

"You didn't do a thing," you tell him, still smiling, "You're perfect, JJ. Such a good man. I just have some things to figure out, and I need to do it on my own."

He swallows and nods, tears falling freely from his eyes now. He stands up, removing his hands from your legs.

"Well, I'll be here when you figure it all out. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. You're what I want."

You stand up, ready to tell him not to wait for you, when he steps forward and cups your face in his hands, bringing his lips to yours. You accept his kiss, keeping it gentle and sweet. He pulls away after a moment, staring at your eyes.

"You know where I'll be. Come find me."

He removes his hands from your face and starts toward your bedroom door. You want to call out, tell him everything you're thinking, but it all gets caught in your throat. He slips out, and just like that, JJ Maybank is gone.

You're sadder than you thought you were going to be. You lay down on your bed and pull the covers over you, letting the tears spill from your eyes. Even though you've been so terribly unhappy these past few months, the finalization of ending things with JJ makes your heart hurt.

Sleep takes over you, lasting for hours. You wake up in the late evening, having missed dinner with your family. You can still feel how puffy your eyes are, but you don't let that bug you as you reach for your phone.

You frown when you don't see any messages from Rafe at all. You haven't spoken to him at all today. It's been almost an entire day since he's even bothered to text you, and as much as you don't want to be that girl, you can't help it when the pit in your stomach grows. You wonder if you've made a huge mistake, trusting Rafe Cameron for a second time. He doesn't even know you broke up with JJ, and you now have no idea how he will react to the news.

When your mom asks you later on that evening how JJ is, you break down. You tell her about how you two broke up, how you didn't feel the same way about him that you had in the beginning. You leave out certain details, certain Rafe Cameron details, as you explain. She grabs ahold of you and hugs you, telling you it's all going to be okay.

You barricade yourself in your room later that night, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. You stare up at your ceiling, begging your brain to let you fall asleep. Your phone lights up on your nightstand, but you ignore it. You really don't care who it is.

The thought crosses your mind that it could be Rafe -finally-and you can't help it. You grab onto your phone and tap on the screen, determined that it's just an email or Instagram notification.

Rafe: Hey, baby. Sorry. Busy day at the office today. Would call, but worried you're with you know who. Can I see you tomorrow?

You stare at the message, wondering why butterflies are not filling your stomach like they usually do.

Yes.

Rafe FaceTimes you not twenty seconds after you send the text. You groan, just wanting to be left alone. Against your better judgement, you answer it, watching his face illuminate your screen.

"What'd I do?" he says immediately, mad he can't see your face because the light is off in your bedroom.

"What?"

"I caught the attitude in your message. Are you at home?"

You know he knows you are, otherwise he wouldn't have FaceTimed you.

"Yeah."

"Baby," he groans, "What's going on? Turn your lamp on. I want to see your pretty face."

"I'm trying to sleep, Rafe," you sigh, running your hand over your face as if to try and relieve stress. You watch Rafe roll his eyes into the camera.

"Fine," he grumbles, "Sleep. Can I please see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," you tell him again, "Do you have to work tomorrow?"

"Until five," he nods his head, still mad he can't see you.

"Come after."

"Okay," he agrees, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," you reply evenly, "Goodnight, handsome."

Your nickname seems to cheer him up based on the grin that spreads across his face. You can tell he's doing his best not to blush, but you note the bits of pink spread across his cheeks.

"Goodnight, gorgeous," he smiles, "Can't wait to see you tomorrow."

"Me, too. Talk tomorrow."

"Sweet dreams."

You hang up first, even though you'd give anything for him to be here with you. You decide you're going to tell him about JJ in person tomorrow, when you two really have time to get into it.

And when you roll over in bed, having heard Rafe's voice, you find it a whole lot easier to fall asleep. Right as you drift off, you wonder if you really were upset about JJ, or if it was Rafe not texting that really got you.

Tags: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @outrbanks @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash

[helloalycia]

my patient’s neighbour [four] // wanda maximoff

summary: taking Wanda to meet your parents wasn't the best decision in hindsight...

warning/s: none i don't think?

author's note: i’m not sure what to say other than sorry in advance oops

part one | part two | part three | part five | part six | part seven | masterlist | wattpad

The restaurant my parents chose wasn't too flashy but rather comforting and homely, with an Italian theme and matching cuisine. It was bustling with people, but it didn't take long for Wanda and I to find my parents sat at the back waiting for us.

"You gonna be okay?" I asked, glancing at her with a comforting squeeze of the hand.

"I've got you, haven't I?" she asked playfully, her accent thicker than usual as she spoke. And though she was joking, I knew there was truth to her words which sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy.

"You're cute," I said with adoration, appreciating how lovely her eyes looked in the dimly-lit restaurant. "Come on."

Hand in hand, we approached my parents' table and I had hopes that tonight would go well. My parents weren't exactly intimidating – at least anyone I'd ever known hadn't got that impression – but I still worried for Wanda. Unlike her, I couldn't read minds, so I couldn't tell if she was actually looking forward to tonight or if she was just doing it for me.

"Y/N, you're here!" my mum exclaimed with a grin when she spotted me.

"I am," I said with a nervous smile, before motioning to Wanda. "And so is Wanda, my girlfriend."

"Yes, Y/N mentioned you would be coming," my mum said with a friendly smile, looking to Wanda, before motioning to the table. "Please, sit, sit."

I squeezed Wanda's hand gently before pulling out a chair for her. She smiled at me appreciatively before I took a seat beside her, facing my parents.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Wanda," my dad said with a nod. "Y/N mentioned you plenty of times when we'd call to catch up with her."

"You, too," Wanda spoke politely. "Both of you. Y/N told me that you're travelling the world, is that right?"

I leaned on my hand and glanced at Wanda, who shot me a mischievous smile. Quirking a brow, I mentally applauded her. Getting my parents to talk about their travels was an easy way of bonding with them – they would tell every server and customer in this restaurant about their travelling if they could. She'd cracked them instantly.

I'm just that good, milashka (cutie).

Trying not to laugh as her words echoed in my mind because of her powers, I leaned back into my seat and listened in as my parents went into a ramble about their ongoing adventures. This was pretty much how the rest of the evening went, as the four of us dined on expensive wine and delicious pizza. They seemed to be getting along well, with Wanda asking all the right questions and giving them her picture-perfect smile that impressed all the elders. Heck, she was even impressing me.

Naively, I appreciated how well the evening was going until my parents decided to talk to Wanda about her career.

"So, Y/N mentioned you're one of those Revengers," my mum remembered as we ate.

"Avengers," I corrected her, mildly embarrassed.

Wanda chuckled, glancing at me, before nodding. "Yes, I am. For over a year now, I've been working with them."

"Them being Iron Man, Captain America, the Black Widow...?" my dad asked, looking up as if trying to remember the rest, further embarrassing me.

"Those are the ones," Wanda quipped with a nod.

My mum hummed in response as my dad nodded before leaning back in his seat and eyeing Wanda curiously.

"I can't imagine your job is the safest," he began. "You protect people from threats, right? Keep them safe."

Wanda seemed caught off guard, but recovered quickly. "It's got it's... dangers, yes. But I can handle myself. I've got powers and I know how to use them."

"You do," my dad agreed, before his eyes flickered to me briefly. "But Y/N doesn't. She's just a regular human."

I set my fork down on my plate and looked to him calmly. "Dad, what are you saying?"

"No, it's fine," Wanda said reassuringly, resting her hand on my leg under the table. I grabbed it and held it as she continued to speak to my father. "Y/N doesn't have powers, you are correct."

"And dating an Avenger, I can imagine, must put a huge target on her back," he said with concern, and my mum nodded in agreement. "How can we be certain that she is safe?"

"Dad!"

"Your father is right, Y/N," my mum said, giving me a look, before her expression softened as she looked to a startled Wanda. "We're not implying that you're incapable, Wanda. We can clearly see that you care about our daughter. And you're a lovely person. You're pretty much perfect."

Wanda swallowed hard. "But?"

My mother frowned. "But dating you is bound to put our Y/N in danger. She could get hurt just for being involved with you, with your friends. She doesn't have powers to protect herself. And I can't imagine you're around her all the time to keep her safe."

As angry as I was at my parents for saying this stuff – even if they were saying it out of love – memories of the incident flashed to mind. They were right, but it was a risk I'd accepted when dating Wanda. What good was it doing by bringing this up now?

Noticing Wanda's silence, I spoke up instead. "I appreciate your concern, guys, but I'm an adult. I understand the danger I may be put in by being with Wanda. But I love her and I know that she is here for me if anything were to ever happen."

"We know," my father said, giving me a small nod. "We just thought we'd share our opinion anyway. It's been weighing on us for a while is all."

I sighed quietly. I couldn't exactly fault them for that.

"Anyway, never mind that," my mum said, setting down her fork. "Now that we've got that out the way, let's order some dessert, yeah? Our treat."

Nodding, I let my parents get excited as they perused the dessert menus before them. Instead, I looked to the quiet brunette beside me and saw how lost in thought she was, eyes focused on the table and stuck in a daydream.

With the hand that was holding hers, I patted her hand with my thumb to earn her attention. She looked up suddenly, questioning gaze falling to me. I frowned and quirked a brow, wondering if she was okay. She forced a smile my way, squeezing my hand reassuringly, but I didn't believe her. I also couldn't question it right in front of my parents, so I decided to speak with her later.

Dessert went by quickly as Wanda, suddenly, wasn't very talkative. I didn't know if my parents noticed, but I sure did and I felt extremely guilty. If I had known of my parents' concerns, I never would have brought Wanda to meet them tonight.

After the evening came to a close and we all stepped out of the restaurant, I expected to be going home with my parents since we lived together, but they claimed they had more plans together tonight.

"Wow, you guys have more of a social life than we do," I joked when they told me to make my own way home.

Wanda barely smiled and I felt bad.

"We'll be back in a few hours," my mum promised, before pulling me in for a hug. "Tonight was fun. A great final night before we leave tomorrow."

I returned the hug and as I gave my dad one, I heard Wanda thanking my mum for the lovely evening halfheartedly. After saying our final goodbyes, Wanda led me to her car in silence, giving me time to try and put some jumbled thoughts together coherently.

As she had been for the past hour, Wanda was quiet on the drive back to my place. Whenever I would glance in her direction, she'd be chewing on her lip and focusing on driving, though the blank expression on her face made me think that maybe she was distracted. It didn't take a genius to know she was thinking about my parents' words and I suddenly felt guilty for putting that all on her.

"I'm sorry," I blurted halfway through the journey. "I'm sorry for what they said. It wasn't fair of them, I know that. They just... they meant well, Wanda, they really did." I tucked my hands under my thighs, wincing as their words echoed in my mind. "It doesn't change anything though, y'know? We're still us. We're still okay. I don't want you to feel like anything's changed because it hasn't."

I paused, swallowing hard, and glanced her way. She didn't even look my way, still in the same position as she was before I started to speak. Looking back to the road ahead, I let out a disappointed sigh, figuring she wasn't in a talking mood. I didn't blame her, but I hoped she would have understood what I meant.

The remainder of the drive was like this, Wanda deep in thought and me huddled under an imaginary blanket of guilt. When we finally reached my house, she turned the engine off and I waited for her to say something, literally anything. Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel mindlessly and I figured she was out of words for tonight.

"I'll ring you in the morning," I mumbled quietly, opening the car door. "If you want to speak, that is."

Leaving her there, I grabbed my bag and headed to the front door, but stopped when I heard her get out the car, too. Waiting, I turned around and watched as she approached me, eyebrows knitted in thought.

"Please say something," I said with pleading eyes.

She licked her lips, biting her lower lip so hard I'm surprised she didn't draw blood. Finally, she released it and looked to me with apologetic eyes.

"Your parents were right," she said.

I blinked with confusion. "What?"

She nodded, looking down at her shoes momentarily. "They were right, what they said. My life puts you in danger."

"Yeah, I know," I agreed, crossing my arms. "I knew that when I got with you, but that doesn't change anything."

She gave a disbelieving smile. "Seriously? Y/N, that changes everything."

"No, it doesn't," I told her sternly, growing frustrated. "This is the stuff you sacrifice when you love someone."

She sighed, shaking her head and looking away. "You shouldn't have to."

"But I chose to," I said, clenching my jaw.

"Don't you remember what happened last time?" she asked, stepping forward and holding my hand. "The incident?"

"We said we wouldn't talk about that," I reminded her with a low voice.

"But you remember, right? When they took you and I wasn't there? They could've hurt you!"

"Shut up!" I told her, raising my voice. Pulling my hand away from hers and taking a step back, I continued, "Why are you saying that? You came! You helped me!"

"But what if they did something to you before I got there?" she snapped. "What if I hadn't got to you on time?"

The memories came spilling into my mind, escaping the locked box I kept them in. Tears burned the corner of my eyes as I tried to think about anything else.

"You remember how scared you were?" Wanda asked, frowning at me with exasperated eyes. "You couldn't be by yourself for weeks!"

"Why are you doing this?!" I yelled, clenching my fists. "Why are you trying to frighten me?!"

"Because you should be frightened!" she retorted, stepping closer to me. Her dark green eyes were swirling storms of rage as she added, "It could happen again!"

I shoved her away from me, pinching the bridge of my nose with annoyance. Tears slipped from my eyes at the terrifying memory of what happened, what could have gone wrong, but I ignored them as I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Why the hell was she acting like this? Making me so angry at her for no reason?

"It's not even just that," she continued, jaw tensed. "How many times do I get hurt because of work and you get worried?"

"That's because I care about you," I muttered through stinging eyes.

"This will always be my life," she said, a hint of regret in her words as she looked to me. "I can't change it."

"I'm not asking you to!"

"Exactly! You're not! Which means you'll suck it up and stay with me and will live your life in constant concern for my well-being. It's not right."

I opened my mouth to respond because what she was saying was entirely stupid. But my emotions got the better of me and no words came out. Instead, my bottom lip quivered as I sucked up a breath.

"I need time to think," she suddenly said, anger disappearing from her voice and being replaced with an astute calmness.

My gaze snapped her way and through blurry vision, I watched her step back with her hands on her hips.

"So you can what – think about breaking up with me?" I said bitterly, and despite my anger, I didn't expect her to look at me with a softened expression, meaning my words were correct.

"Maybe it's better that way, Y/N," she said gently, eyes meeting mine.

I squeezed my hands together and tried to breathe through the pent-up anger that she'd caused, but the longer she stared at me, waiting for a response, the more I wanted to explode.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I muttered, scrunching my eyebrows together.

She pressed her lips together, looking away, and it only pissed me off more.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Wanda?!" I yelled. "You're quitting on our relationship because, what, you think I'm in danger? Well, news flash, honey, the worst already happened and I'm still here!"

She barely flinched as she avoided my eyes.

"You're a fucking coward!" I said, pointing at her. "If you needed an excuse to end things, you could have just said so!"

Breathing out, I wiped my tears away shakily. I expected her to argue back, to realise she'd made a mistake and regretted her words, but as I waited, I knew she was certain of her decision.

"Fine," I settled, brimming with rage. "Fuck off, Wanda."

Still, nothing.

Turning on my heel, I stormed to my front door and went through my keys with difficulty, hands shaking with anger. I heard Wanda's car door shut from behind me but didn't bother turning around. I clearly didn't need to as I heard the tyres screech against the road and knew she was gone.

Kicking my door with frustration, I found the key and opened up before heading inside and slamming the door behind me. How dare she break up with me because of something that I chose off my own back! She just gave up like we meant nothing to her, not even bothering to talk things out with me! And selfishly, she left me feeling pissed and resenting her more than I ever thought I would.

"What a bitch!" I shouted into the empty house, throwing my keys to the side harshly.

When they clinked against glass, I looked up and saw the vase of flowers Wanda had given me before dinner.

"The first and fucking last," I said dryly, before grabbing ahold of it and throwing it against the wall without thinking.

The glass shattered on impact, leaving a mess of water, flowers and small shards on the wooden floor. I looked at it, the brokenness resembling how my heart felt. As the adrenaline of my actions and previous angry words wore off, all that was left was hurt and pain and oh God, Wanda was gone. She'd left me. She'd given up.

I sank to the floor, pulling my legs up to my chest, and hugged them tightly. Stifling my cries, I dug myself into my knees and felt a pain in my heart. Why didn't she fight for us? Did she not love me enough? Was I not enough?

—

"You ignored the memes I sent you, I thought you died."

As Natasha pushed right past me and into my house, I blinked with disbelief.

"Sure, come right in," I mumbled sarcastically, closing the front door.

Following after Natasha, I found her making herself at home in the living room, plonking herself on the couch and pulling her feet up comfortably.

"You could have sent an emoji or something," she continued, giving me a knowing look. "They were some good memes."

"Well, forgive me if I wasn't in the mood," I said sourly, joining her on the couch.

Her playful smile faded as she picked up on my words. "How are you doing, sweetie?"

I ran a hand through my hair and leaned my elbow on the back of the couch, getting comfortable. It had been two weeks since Wanda broke up with me and in those two weeks, I hadn't been doing particularly well. I guess you could say I was still in a slump. A horrible, tiresome, angry, sadness-filled slump.

"I'm fine."

She pursed her lips, looking like she wanted to argue, but thankfully, she didn't. I was glad – the last thing I wanted was to prove that I was okay when, really, all I wanted to do was curl in a ball and suffocate under my duvet.

"I'm sorry," she said, resting her hand on mine. "If it's any consolation, I think Wanda made a huge mistake."

"Ah, so she told you," I said with a nod of realisation. I hadn't told Natasha the specifics of why we broke up, but clearly Wanda did. I guess it made sense – they were teammates. If anything, I was surprised Natasha still wanted to speak to me, instead expecting her to side with her friend.

"She did," Natasha answered. "And I think she's an idiot, but that's not my business. I just came here to make sure you were okay."

"Really? I thought you wanted to show me the memes," I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood with a small smile.

She chuckled, slapping my hand gently. "That, too... but seriously."

My smile faded as I looked down, my finger playing with my trousers distractedly. "I'm not okay, but I'll get there." I began to glare at my trousers, my anger for the witch returning. "I have to be. Because she doesn't want me anymore... fuck her."

"I'd rather not," Natasha mumbled.

Though my anger was present, making me tense like it had been the last few weeks, I couldn't help but smile at Natasha's words. Then laughter bubbled from my lips and for the first time since Wanda left, I felt momentarily happy.

"I'm glad we can still be friends," Natasha said, making me look to her with a smile. "I know that you and Wanda are over now... but I still like hanging out with you."

"Me, too," I said in agreement. "Thanks for coming to check in. You didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did." She nodded before offering me a small, encouraging smile. "You're gonna be okay, y'know."

I wanted to believe her, but despite how pissed I was at Wanda, I still loved her. And I couldn't imagine stopping, though I knew I'd have to if I was to make it through this.

—

Getting over Wanda was a difficult process. Everything I felt was a mixture of resentment, exhaustion and misery because I missed her. I missed being able to call her when I saw somebody do something stupid in public; I missed kissing her when I hadn't seen her in a long time; I missed hearing her adorable accent first thing when I woke up after she spent the night; I missed her.

Two months followed the breakup and the only time I'd see her was when she'd dodge Anna's apartment upon knowing I was going to take care of her. I guess I was glad in that sense, as it meant I wouldn't have to deal with her awkwardly. But it also made me feel like shit because it meant she didn't care about me at all. Clearly our breakup wasn't affecting her like it did with me.

And it was definitely affecting me.

I was scrolling through Instagram one day when I saw a particular post on my feed from Natasha's account. Yeah, one of the Avengers had a private Instagram account. She gave me her username when she saw me on it one day and I remember being so confused to how she had it.

"I'm an Avenger, not a hermit," was her response, and from that day onwards, we followed each other.

So, I saw a post on her Instagram and it was some goofy photo of her, Tony, Bruce and Wanda. They were posing with exaggerated smiles as Natasha grinned up front; the caption said something about working long days, but I wasn't paying much attention as, naturally, my gaze fell to Wanda.

Just like everyone else, she had a playful, exaggerated smile on her lips like nothing kept her down, but what stood out was the sling around her arm and the cast underneath. It must have happened in a mission or something and it wasn't my business, but I couldn't help but worry. Was she okay? Was she looking after herself? I wanted to text Natasha and ask, but I stopped myself.

She'd broken up with me for this very reason. I wasn't agreeing with it, but for a second, I did see why she'd made her point. It still wasn't fair though. She didn't get to make that choice for me.

We weren't together anymore, I reminded myself. She broke up with me. It had been two months and I needed to let go. If she didn't care about me, why should I waste my time and energy caring about her?

Not letting it get to me anymore, I simply liked the post before continuing my scrolling. Though I knew that deep down, her face was imprinted in my mind and I still worried for her well-being.

—

The fourth month following our breakup was when I properly saw Wanda again, excluding the times she would duck out of Anna's apartment upon my arrival to care for her. It was also the first time since the breakup that Wanda made the effort to speak to me.

I was sat eating dinner on my day off when I got a call from the hospital nearby, interrupting my meal. The nurse was explaining how Anna had fallen over and hurt her back and was now in a hospital room. She was calling me because she thought I'd like to know since I was her registered nurse and carer. I was glad to get the call, immediately pulling my shoes and coat on and rushing over there to make sure she was okay. She didn't have anyone else apart from Wanda and I – it was no question I had to go.

Though, of course, I didn't really think about the fact that Wanda may be there until I saw her there. I also didn't consider the fact that I was wearing my pyjamas when I stepped in the lift and headed to Anna's floor. Too late now.

After asking the receptionist where Anna's room was, I found Wanda hanging around it outside the door. With only Anna on my mind, I approached her and tried to hide my panic. She spotted me instantly, stopping her pacing and looking to me with tired eyes and a frown on her face.

I didn't care that she looked worried, nor that she was holding up well since we last spoke in anger. I didn't care that she'd dyed her hair a reddish-brown colour, nor that she managed to pull off both that and the whole 'loungewear' look in a place surrounded by blinding white and blue. I didn't care that my heart ached when her green eyes found mine, nor that I missed seeing her so close and not in my dreams for once. I didn't care about any of it. Or, at least, I tried to tell myself that.

"What happened?" I cut straight to the point, stopping in front of her. "Is Anna okay?"

Wanda nodded instantly. "She's fine. She tripped over her dining room chair and hurt her back. The doctors just checked her out and said it's nothing too serious, but she won't be able to walk for a while."

I pressed my lips together, feeling the panic wear off at the sound of good news. Anna had always been more than just a patient to me and the last thing I wanted was to hear she'd hurt herself badly.

"Can I see her?" I asked Wanda, quirking a brow.

"Yeah, of course," Wanda said, before looking away awkwardly. "I was just waiting out here for you. The nurse said you were coming."

I chose to say nothing as I walked past her and into Anna's room, seeing the older woman laying on a hospital bed and staring at the ceiling. When she noticed my presence, she smiled at me and motioned for me to join her side.

"It's so good to see you, milaya (sweetie)," she said happily, as I stopped by her side, "but you didn't have to come! I'm not dying."

I heard Wanda enter the room behind me, but she took a seat on the chairs opposite the bed. Ignoring her, I smiled down at Anna and grabbed her hand.

"Don't say that," I told her gently. "Of course I'm here. You're my number one priority. I had to make sure you were okay!"

Anna waved her hand in typical Anna fashion. "I've suffered worse. I'm absolutely fine."

I knew it was best not to question her, so I didn't.

"I'm glad you're both here," she said, looking between Wanda and I, making me swallow awkwardly.

Since breaking up, I hadn't mentioned it to Anna, but she wasn't stupid and she'd clearly noticed that we weren't spending time together anymore. I didn't know if Wanda had told her, but if she had, Anna never mentioned anything. Like now, she simply looked between us both with a grateful smile, unaware of how awkward we felt.

Thankfully, the awkward silence was interrupted when a doctor walked in the room. After introducing herself, I asked if I could speak to her outside about Anna and she happily obliged. She told me about Anna's condition and how it would affect the way I cared for her, especially regarding her new medication, and I asked anything and everything to make sure she was truly okay. After being reassured that she was, I thanked the doctor and returned to Anna's room, only to find Wanda and Anna in a heated a argument.

I couldn't tell what had got them so fussy as they were bickering in Russian, sentences too fast for me to comprehend with my limited knowledge of the language. It got to a point where Anna began slapping Wanda on the arm, looking angrier than ever, so I stepped between them and pulled Wanda away.

"What the hell is going on here?" I interrupted, holding Anna's slapping hand down to the bed and raising a hand to keep Wanda at bay. I looked between them, seeing the frustration in both their expressions, and asked questioningly, "Well?"

Wanda said nothing, eyes avoiding mine as usual, so I looked down to Anna who was glancing between us before spouting off into another ramble in Russian, trying to grab Wanda so she could yell at her directly. To my annoyance, Wanda tried to push past me, yelling back, and I was unfortunately caught in the middle as I attempted to keep them from ripping each other's throats out.

Thankfully, their bickering came to a halt when an unknown voice called into the room: "What is going on in here?"

I looked to the door, following the mystery voice, and saw a young woman, maybe in her thirties, standing in the doorway and looking between the three of us with confusion. I had no idea who she was, though she seemed familiar. Judging from the confusion Wanda had, she didn't seem to know either.

"Sasha," Anna breathed out with surprise, and then I realised. That was Anna's granddaughter. "What are you doing here?"

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging nor trying to romanticize yandere behavior. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, toxic relationship, violent behavior, murder, sexual scenes, paranoia leading to mental blackouts, miscarriage, suicide attempt, mental disorders and death are contained within this post. Read at your own discretion.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟿𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟾𝟻 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟼'𝟶 𝙵𝚃.

𝙰𝚐𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□90%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□90%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

•𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝

•𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝

•𝚃𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗

•𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛

•𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mingi was someone who always kept to himself, never wanting to draw any kind of attention.

Unfortunately for him, he got a lot of attention while he was studying in university, and not the good kind.

He accidentally bumped into one of the jocks at school, and from that moment on, his life was hell.

He was constantly belittled, shoved to the floor, his locker filled with vicious and cruel messages ranging from "freak" to "kill yourself."

Mingi often just sighed and continued his day, as if this was totally normal.

It's not that he didn't understand what was going on or didn't care.

He was just too awkward and scared to stand up to himself.

So he often just came home, feeling hopeless and in despair.

Many times he hardly ate and would end up crawling inside his blankets and cry himself to sleep.

Even the few people he talked to stopped associating themselves with him out of fear of becoming the bullies' next target.

So Mingi resigned himself to being alone and to think no one would ever care about him....

Until you came along.

You had recently transferred to his school and one of the first things you saw was the poor sandy hair colored giant get punched in the stomach by his locker.

You were so disgusted and sickened by their behavior that you did not hesitate to go over and make sure he was all right.

"Hey, do you need help?" You asked as you helped him get up.

"I I'm fine...t-thanks.." Without another word, he left you standing there, running off to his next class.

He thought that'd be the last time he saw you but during lunch break, you made it a point to look for him and talk to him.

"Are you feeling better?"

Mingi looked up at you with wide eyes, wondering if it really was him you were talking to.

"Y-yeah...I'm fine. T-thanks"

Smiling at him, you sat next to him, taking out your lunch while trying to make conversation with him.

All throughout it, Mingi seemed agitated, scared almost.

You felt really bad and asked him if something was bothering him.

Sighing he told you:

"Look, I appreciate your concern, but I think it's best if you stay away from me.... I don't want them to hurt you because of me..."

You saw the sadness in his eyes, the loneliness behind them and that made you want to stay with him even more.

"What's your name?" You asked what you had really wanted to know since the beginning.

"Song Mingi." He answered you.

Grinning at him, you held out your hand.

"Well Song Mingi, I'm L/N Y/N. Your soon to be new best friend."

Mingi's mouth dropped at your words, he couldn't possibly believe you were serious.

But you were and not only did you become his closest friend, you also became his protector.

Unlike him, you were fearless, vivacious, outgoing and spontaneous.

And Mingi began to admire you a lot for it....

More than admired, he began to worship you, falling deeply in love with you.

For once in his life, he was happy, truly happy and filled with joy.

Instead of crying himself to sleep, he went to bed all excited to spend the next day with you.

And of course you two spent a lot of time together, since he became your math tutor cause you were the absolute worst with numbers.

You were thankful that Mingi was so patient and caring towards you.

He never showed any signs of frustration or annoyance even after explaining the equation to you about 20 times.

"Y/N. Pay attention or you won't ace the test." He often told you, adding a little pinch to your nose or cheek to get you to focus.

He also loved just talking to you during these sessions.

Obviously being your best friend, he also ended up picking up on what sort of things you liked in a guy.

He would often observe you at school or while you two were out.

One time he even read through a few of your messages with one of your other friends from your old school.

It was exactly what Mingi needed to know, he now had a glimpse of the type of boyfriend you wanted.

And for you.....he'd end up becoming that boyfriend.

So while you were in spring break, he prepared everything.

He got rid of his cardigans and vests, trading them for leather and jean jackets.

He ended up cutting his hair differently and started wearing tighter fitting pants that accentuated his thick thighs.

So when you saw him again, it was a complete 180° from the shy, nerdy boy you knew.

"Whoah! Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

You weren't going to lie, Mingi did look very attractive.

You were glad though that he was still the cute, adorable and somewhat clumsy boy he was when you first met him.

Because that's the Mingi you knew and loved.

And you wouldn't trade him for anything in the world.

It was after finals that Mingi decided to ask you out.

You were both out celebrating the fact you both passed when he popped the question:

"Y/N will you go out with me?" He suddenly blurted out.

You were taken aback, but said yes nonetheless.

Mingi was so happy.

He was extremely devoted to you as a boyfriend, always saying yes to you and going along with whatever it was you wanted.

Anything you said, he would do it.

"Anywhere you want to go is fine with me."

"Anything you want is fine with me."

You thought it was really sweet at first, he really wanted to make you happy.

But after almost a year of dating, it kinda started to get annoying.

It bothered you that he never seemed to have an opinion of his own.

You actually snapped at him one day while planning a date out.

"Can't you freaking decide for yourself once?"

Mingi just whipped his head at you, unable to comprehend why you were yelling at him.

"Do you not even care about me or this relationship? Cause honestly it seems like you're not actually putting effort into it and if it's like that, why am I even wasting my time on you?"

Mingi got really scared when you began walking out the door, he pleaded with you to stay, to talk through it.

"I'll do anything! Y/N please just don't leave me! What do you want me to do?!" He begged as he got on his knees.

"I want you to leave me alone!"

Alone......that word struck a chord in Mingi's head.....alone.

No....he couldn't go back to being alone...go back to the cold world that he was used to.

He began hyperventilating, his head was spinning and it was pounding like there was no tomorrow.

He doesn't remember much after that. All he remembers was the annoying knocking at the door.

He remembers opening it and seeing a random salesperson there....

But after that, it's all a big black faze, and when he finally came to his senses....

He was covered in blood, and a bludgeoned corpse was sprawled across the kitchen floor.

Although he was panicking, Mingi knew that you could not find out about this.

So he quickly got to work and cleaned up all traces of blood and managed to get rid of the body with no one seeing him.

He was so confused about what happened and panicking about if you found out, that he didn't hear you come in the house until you literally stood in front of him.

He instantly got on his knees and hugged your waist.

"Baby I was so scared that you left me forever! Please I'm sorry I made you feel like I don't care about you, I do! I fucking love you so much, and I promise I'll try harder....

Just for you..."

You felt so bad seeing him, and truly you loved him and felt like it was a petty thing to get mad about.

You pulled him up and reassured him that you weren't mad anymore and that you were too much in love with him to leave.

Mingi felt so relieved. He couldn't even begin to fathom what would happen if he did lose you.

He'd probably go insane.

True to his word, Mingi did try harder to get rid of that habit of just following what you said like a little puppy, and would now start expressing himself more.

Now the problem was he went the complete opposite direction: now he seemed to question your every decision and it would lead to small tiny banters between you two.

One time you got tired of him making a fuss over the fact you were spending so much time with a classmate that it turned really ugly.

"We're working on a project Mingi! Nothing else!" You shouted at him.

"What do you need to be going to his house though and staying til late hours of the night? Why can't you two do it here?!"

"Because you end up distracting us both and throwing passive aggressive words to him." You were exhausted from all the screaming by now you were losing your patience.

"Are you sure it's not because you're just whoring yourself out with them?" He didn't mean for those words to come out...but they did.

And you didn't mean to get so angry to the point of slapping him, but you did and that's when it hit you that you went too far.

You both stood there stunned at what happened, Mingi more hurt than anything by your actions, while you felt ashamed of yourself.

You lifted your hand against the very person you were protecting at first.....and now you hated yourself for hurting him like his past bullies.

Ashamed and full of guilt, you turned away and began walking out.

"Wait no! Y/N please! It's ok! It was my fault! I shouldn't have said that! Please let's just work it out!"

"No Mingi! I can't! I..... I need a break."

Mingi's world came crumbling down when you said that. He went into a slight catatonic state as he watched you walk away.

Once he regained his senses, he ran after you, desperate to bring you back, running around aimlessly through the dark streets and alleys, calling out for you but you were nowhere to be seen.

"Get lost you dirty bastard." A passerby rudely shoved him out of the way.

In a matter of seconds, Mingi's eyes darkened, his fist clenched at his side as rage now coursed through his body.

He turned his head to look back at the stranger who was now walking away.

Smirking, Mingi pulled out the switchblade he was carrying in his pocket before creeping quietly to the man.

Someone had to pay the price and feel the wrath and despair he felt at losing his goddess......and he found them.

It had been roughly a month since you last saw Mingi and although you hated to admit it, you missed him. But you knew you had to stay away for his sake.

But things don't go as planned and you soon found out you were going to have to see him sooner than you thought...

Because you were now pregnant with his child and you had to let him know.

You were so nervous about telling him, your hand trembled as you opened the door to the apartment you used to share with Mingi.

You quietly stepped inside, too afraid to call out for him just yet.

But then you heard some weird noises coming from the bedroom, your heart somewhat dropping when you distinguished what sounded like moans and panting.

You could also make out Mingi's deep voice calling out your name.

Opening the door open, your hand flew to your mouth, semi-muffling your sharp gasp as you took in the scene of Mingi fucking some random girl with her face covered on the bed you two shared not too long ago.

"What the fuck Mingi?!" You exclaimed in utter disgust and betrayal.

"Y/N! I can explain!" All color drained from Mingi's face as he pulled himself out of the girl and quickly dressed himself.

You couldn't bear to stay there another moment, you just ran out of there once again.

But you didn't get far because Mingi swiftly caught up to you and enraptured you in his arms.

"Don't touch me! You're disgusting! You liar! You cheater!" You tossed and writhed around as you tried to escape his grasp, while Mingi tried to hold you still and trying to talk to you.

You felt an immense pain run through your stomach at that moment, your body becoming paralyzed as some weird and excruciating torment bursted in you.

Mingi noticed as well how you clutched your stomach and had difficulty breathing so he wasted no time in taking you to the hospital.

You woke up hours later, late at night, a nurse by your side and Mingi on the other, his hand holding onto yours as tears poured from his eyes.

"What happened?" You immediately asked, your hand instinctively going to your belly.

The nurse explained with sorrow how you had lost the baby, apologizing profusely to you, knowing you were probably in pain.

You went berserk when she told you that, first you denied it, then you began screaming while trying to pull off the IVs attached to you.

Mingi tried to calm you down, but instead he made things worse with his presence.

"This is all your fault! If it wasn't because of you, my baby would be alive!"

Those words cut Mingi deep inside, you killed him immediately with them.

Other nurses rushed in to calm you down as one of them pulled Mingi away for his protection and for yours.

You were numb for the next few days, refusing to see anyone and especially not Mingi, you gave strict orders not to let him in.

You were planning on never seeing him again.

The very day you were released from the hospital though, he was the first person you encountered while you were on your way home.

"Y/N?" He asked, startling you when he came out from the corner.

Your feet shifted slowly, almost losing balance on the small step on your front door.

"What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear I never wanted to see you." Not wanting to waste another minute, you quickly punched in your passcode.

"Y/N baby you don't mean that! I love you! And you love me!"

You let out a dry and haughty laugh at that.

"You? Love me? Is that why you were fucking some whore behind my back?"

"I swear she didn't mean anything! And I made her cover her face because I was thinking of you the entire time..."

You rolled your eyes at that, feeling absolutely disgusted.

"But then I realized she was to blame for everything and so I got rid of her so I can make you happy, forgive me and we could start again."

You halted your actions when he said that.

"Mingi...what do you mean you got rid of her?"

If his last words disturbed you, now you were absolutely horrified as he calmly told you how he mutilated her body and discarded her remains in a lake outside of the city.

You actually felt sick and nearly threw up right then and there.

"Mingi.....what..... you're insane! How could you-?"

Mingi couldn't understand why you were upset.

"Don't you see? I did it for you Y/N. Everything I've ever done is for you."

Now it dawned on you, the person you've ever loved was sick, extremely sick and needed help.

"Mingi.....don't come near me again....stay away....seriously..."

And once again another struggle between you two ensued, you wanting to run away while he held onto you for dear life.

"Stop Mingi! Let me go! I don't love you anymore!"

The spinning in his head started once again, his vision becoming hazy, he could hear his own heartbeat resonating in his ears, his hand shook violently as it reached for an all too familiar object he kept hidden in his pocket....

Everything turned dark and blinding....

But when he came back, there he was, staring in shock at your lifeless body, a fresh, clean cut running all across your neck, blood still spurting out and staining his hands.

"Oh my God! What have I done?!" Mingi cried out, wailing and screaming erratically at the thought that he had just murdered his soulmate with his own hands.

He couldn't bear the thought of living without you, he just couldn't....

And so he picked up the very tool he used to kill you and held up to his own neck....

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Maybe Prompts

I'm running low on motivation and haven't written anything other than Wayne!Bro in forever so send me up to 3 prompts and a character and/or characters you want and I'll write a short fic.

My request rules are there for a reason so only ask for what I can and do write for!

(this list isn't mine, took some stuff from other people's lists and removed anything I wasn't okay writing)

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Wanna bet?”

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Kiss me.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

“It’s hard to get used to...” “what is?” “Being someone that someone cares for...”

“The first time you smiled it felt like the universe aligned.”

“It hurts...” “what?” “Loving someone who doesn’t love you...”

"just because you can doesn’t mean you should"

"you were put on this earth to give me a headache"

"you are a terrible influence"

"one of us is clearly smarter than the other"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"In my defense, I really wanted to."

"At least I didn't break any laws."

"What did you do this time?"

"I don't hate you."

"Don't call me that."

“Just marry me already."

“I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest.”

“Is that what you call an apology?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“There is no way this much stupid can fit inside one person.”

“I’m never leaving...I promise."

“Can I kiss you?”

“God, I love you.”

“You’re so fucking cute.”

“Stop being a fucking prick.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“You’re my everything.”

“i like being close to you. you’re warm.”

“you know where to find me.”

“Stop doing that”

“i think i might be in some kind of love with you.”

“you need a place to stay for the night”

“if you interrupt me one more time— so help me god”

“is that my shirt?”

“my mother adores you.”

“is that a drawing of me?”

“i’ve never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time.”

“stop looking at me like that!”

“i’m not scared but if you are, you can hold my hand.”

“this isn’t adrenaline, i want to spend my life with you.”

“Take my jacket, it’s cold”

“My friends get annoyed by how much I talk about you sometimes”

“I’m not going anywhere”

“no one’s ever made me feel like this.”

“here, let me help you.”

“we’re quite literally fugitives of the state.” - “so no pizza?”

“you’re insane.” - “people keep telling me that.”

“you’re pretty.” - “you’re drunk.”

“i told you i’d come home to you.”

“i’ll keep you safe.”

“i’ll spend a thousand lifetimes coming back to you.”

“i didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”

“please never stop smiling.”

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

“How are you this perfect?”

“I’ve waited so long for this.”

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”

“I really want to kiss you right now.” “Then do it.”

“Stop distracting me.”

[missfangirll]

Congratulations on reaching 200!!! Along with the challenge/wager thing, I have a for-real, sincere, fic request ♡ I am an absolute SLUT for WinTeam so if you could write a little WinTeam for me I would actually cry from the joy... maybe a getting together thing or something like that? But honestly I'm just constantly starved for WinTeam content while waiting for Between Us.... CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN!!

Alrighty, this is my first time ever writing Thai BL, so have mercy  😁 (And I don’t know if Team is slightly OOC, he TALKS so much 😁) Anyway, have some Win/Team fluff 😍🥰 (Maybe you recognise the title 😁)

- - - - - -

Fandom: Until we meet again Rating: General Relationship: Win/Team Tags: Fluff, First Kiss (or rather Second First Kiss), Getting Together Words: 1085 Summary: Team can’t sleep. That in itself is neither new nor unexpected. The reason why, however, is.

Read on AO3

- - - - - -

A Broccoli and a Promise

Team can’t sleep. That in itself is neither new nor unexpected. The reason why, however, is.

It’s said that any couples that kiss under the mistletoe will have a long and lasting love.

Team turns on his stomach, hiding his face in the pillow, and groans.

That damn idiot. That damn, pretty, annoying, radiant, wonderful, irritating… He forgot where he was going with this, but damn Win.

It was such a great day, really, but then Win had to go and make it complicated. He brought a mistletoe - no, a goddamn broccoli - to cajole Team into kissing him, and he actually did. 

Why did I kiss him?

And, even worse, why did I LIKE it??

It’s true, he spent last night with Win, but that was just because of his insomnia. When he thinks about it, he spent an awful lot of time with him recently. Lunch breaks, afternoons, evenings. They eat together, they study together. And apparently now they also sleep together. But because they’re friends. Good friends.

Really good friends who do everything together and share a bed and almost kiss and....

... any couples that kiss under the mistletoe…

...couples…

Team sits up straight in bed, his heart pounding violently in his chest. He didn’t realise the phrasing at first, too distracted by Win’s perfect honey-brown eyes and the cupid-bow of his upper lip and the way his hair fell into his face from his ponytail and…

Oh.

Oh damn.

Team scrambles out of bed, hastily putting on some shoes and grabbing his keys, then heading to the elevator. He has some questions to ask.

Win opens the door after the second knock, a bright grin on his face that makes Team’s heart do dangerous things. Before he can say anything, Team blurts out, “Are we a couple?”

Win blinks at him, then exhales slowly. Wordlessly, he takes a step back, inviting Team inside. After closing the door, he turns slowly, facing Team with a complicated expression.

“Why do you ask,” he says finally, his voice hoarse and raspy, and it doesn’t really sound like a question.

Now that he is actually here, Team finds it rather difficult to look Win in the face while talking, so he turns around to crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin, studiously avoiding Win’s gaze. The other sighs, then climbs in as well, facing Team. He has left the light on on the nightstand, Team notices. What he also notices is that, probably for the first time since they have known each other, Win keeps his distance, not touching him in any way. He has a complex look in his eyes, hopeful, afraid, nervous, fond, and Team finds himself captivated by it. 

After a minute or two of staring, Win moves slowly, as if to brush a strand of Team’s hair out of his face, then redirects the motion to fiddle with the blanket, his expression now unsure and vulnerable. Team’s heart aches. Gathering all his courage, he asks again, “Are we a couple?” This time, Win doesn’t reply, just worries his bottom lip between his teeth, avoiding his gaze. Team soldiers on. “I mean, we are literally sleeping together. And we, I dunno, we spend a lot of time together?”

Win almost interrupts him, a strange tremor in his voice, “Don’t you want to? I mean, we can stop doing that, if you want, if it’s too much…” He trails off, and Team hears what he’s actually saying. If I’m too much.

Not quite able to form words, he scoots closer, cupping Win’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. 

“It’s not,” he says, then adds, “not too much, I mean. I like spending time with you.”

Win visibly relaxes, exhaling slowly, giving him an almost shy smile. Team has spent a lot of time watching Win smile and has probably seen the whole range, from mischievous, sly grin to fond, soft smile, but this one is new, open and vulnerable. “Then why do you ask?”, he asks again. “Because you said couples that kiss under the mistletoe will have a long and lasting love,” Team replies, and watches Win’s eyes dart away. “I kissed you,” he reminds him, “does that mean we are a couple now?”

Win looks at him for a second. “If you want us to be,” he says quietly, and Team’s heart skips a beat. While he is trying to find the words to respond to that, he sees Win’s expression crumble, as if all energy has left him. “Or not,” he hastily amends, “we don’t have--”

“I want to!”, he blurts out, grabbing the other’s hand between them almost too tightly. “I want to, I do, I just…” Trailing off, he looks at Win’s hopeful expression. “I just… don’t know how,” he admits finally, and Win’s face splits into the most radiant smile he has ever seen. Weaving his hand into Team’s hair, Win pulls close, so close their noses almost touch, then breathes, “Can I kiss you again?”, and that’s all it takes, really. Closing the distance between them, Team leans in to capture the other’s pretty lips. 

While their first kiss was brief and almost not there, butterfly wings on soft petals, their second kiss feels real: The hand in his hair feels real, hot lips on his own, a tongue caressing his. When Win gently bites his bottom lip he groans, and hears the other’s low chuckle. 

Pulling back a fraction, still close enough to feel Win’s warmth on his skin, he takes a moment to calm his breathing, looking in wonder at the perfect man in his arms. With a grin, Win presses a kiss to his nose, then nudges it with his own. “What about the other thing,” he asks cheekily.

Team raises an eyebrow, then huffs. “What other thing?”

Win’s smile widens even more. “I asked you if you were brave.” He leans closer, his eyes sparkling. “Are you?” 

Team snorts, then huffs a laugh. “Brave enough to kiss you?”, he asks, deliberately missing the point, which earns him an eyeroll. Moving his hand from his nape to his forehead, Win flicks it gently, then says in a soft voice, “Brave enough to be my boyfriend.” “I don’t know,” Team draws out, “you haven’t asked.” 

With a silent laugh, Win presses another kiss to his nose, then whispers, “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Smiling, Team just nods, then leans in to kiss him again.