#if she’s a saint then he’ll never find someone else like her and he’ll also never be good enough to deserve her

[romanroyrabies]

something something disco elysium and the way we mythologize people who aren’t in our lives anymore because it’s easier to rationalize that way… dora isn’t dolores dei, she’s not a saint and not a war criminal, she’s human and that means she’s messy and imperfect and turning her into dolores dei is a coping mechanism for harry but at the same time it’s preventing him from truly being able to move on…

[misasimagines]

little things the jjk characters would do for their s/o or crush! pt 1

included characters: Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Maki, Nobara Gojo, Nanami, and Choso in pt 2! rating: sfw warnings: no pronouns, but mentions of skirts and dresses and hair ties and other stereotypically feminine stuff

Yuji:

He will just carry you whenever and especially if your feet hurt after a long day.

He thinks you look good in anything and everything so if you go shopping he’s just pointing out everything and saying you should try it on. Most of his suggestions are innocent but sometimes he points out something that is a Little Frisky.

He’ll come up with like 10 different options for your dates so you can pick from them instead of being paralyzed by choice.

If he has to get up and leave before you, he will make breakfast for you that you can just heat up whenever you wake up and he definitely kisses you on the forehead before sneaking out to not wake you up. Which he might do anyway because he’s a tornado of energy and being sneaky isn’t his strong suit.

Megumi:

If you go to a new restaurant or cafe or order something unusual, he will order something that he knows you would like just in case you don’t like what you got and he can give you his. He will never admit to this and just choke down whatever he traded with you and pretend he doesn’t also hate it.

He always brings a jacket when you don’t so he can give you his if you get cold or if you’re wearing a short dress/skirt and want to tie it around you waist for some extra coverage/warmth.

He carries around an extra phone charger or a specific one that works for your phone + always has a hair tie on his wrist in case you need it.

If you’re doing something super boring like errands or taxes he’ll find a reason to hang out with you and try not to distract you (but lbr, he’s too pretty not to gawk at)

Nobara:

She buys duplicates of clothing if she thinks you’d like it or look good in it! Also, just generally will buy you clothes or accessories if she see’s them and imagines you wearing them.

She likes brushing your hair for you if she can, but if not, she just likes helping you go about your hair care routine. Like if you need help holding sections out of your face while you braid them or use product or something, she likes helping.

Similarly, she wants to paint your nails or do your makeup. She probably can’t have the fanciest nails as a sorcerer (they’re always getting chipped/broken) so you’re her guinea pig...... 

If you guys are out with friends and you want to leave but don’t want to say anything for whatever reason, she will realize and say it for you but word it so she’s the one who wants to leave and you’re the saint who’s leaving early to hang out with her. She won’t admit that she’s leaving for your sake, she’ll just be like I was bored anyway!

Constantly sticking up for you and complimenting you when you’re not around.You’ll never hear exactly what she says during these moments but know she’s looking out for you.

Maki:

She remembers if you said you wanted to go somewhere, see something, buy something, etc, and tries to make time for it in the future. If there just really isn’t any time, she’ll try to either get someone else to go with you or she’ll stop by and pick up whatever you wanted and bring it back to you.

Maki WILL buy you pepper spray or a concealed weapon/keychain weapon for self defense and she is insistent you learn how to protect yourself with at least the basics. It might seem intense and kind of scary, but she’s looking out for you. When she’s not with you, she can’t protect you, and that’s a little (it’s Very) stressful.

She’s not the most delicate but if something is stressing you out or scaring you, she’ll give you all the rational thoughts she can and then also try to solve/deal with the issue herself. Like is there a deadline coming up that you’re stressed about? She’s breaking it down into steps so it seems less scary and more manageable. But also, she might be threatening your boss for putting so much pressure on you...

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Yoooo. You can write this idea in whatever format you think fits it best but just had an idea for Edgar breaking up with a female s/o over his struggles with staying with one partner out of the fear of commitment and his feelings being seriously genuinely in love with her and that scares him into calling things off, but she never gets mad, because she understands why he’s doing it, even if it hurts, and she respects it, letting him know that she’ll wait for him until he’s ready? But also maybe incorporate what it’s like when he is ready? I just have a lot of feelings ���😭

and now I have a lot of feelings, THANKS!!!

also Edgar is just like... lowkey channeling me... just a lil... I find this relatable for some reason XD

I went with a reaction but also it’s a lil longer than usual reactions sooooo~!

God, and when is he just going to get over this already? It’s not a mature feeling to have, as far as he’s concerned; he thinks he should just be able to stay with someone. One person. But… it’s not so simple as finally settling down now that he’s found someone he wants to be with. His parents have pushed so many young ladies in his direction and he’s had no spark with any of them, and the spark is what he’s been waiting for. Even though that’s not what anyone else cares about. He needs to be in love to be able to marry someone. Now that he finally is, it’s like his brain just hits the panic button, because he never planned on falling in love. He thought he never could… he thought he was just this romantic person who liked the idea of love, liked romantic novels, liked sweet poems, liked rose-colored songs.

Now he’s actually in love, and the intensity of his own feelings frightens him more than anything else ever could. Things have gone so, so wrong in his life. Even though he doesn’t want to mess anything else up, he’s terrified that he’s going to. It frustrates him to no end, considering the fact that sometimes he would just lie in bed dreaming of what it would be like to finally fall in love. And now that he has it, suddenly he doesn’t want it? It simply… makes him very angry with himself that he’s pushing away and afraid of the one thing he’s been waiting a lifetime for.

He doesn’t even think he deserves her patience. “What if I’m never ready?” he whispers as she holds him after she tells him she’ll wait. “What if you waste your entire life waiting for me and then I never show up?” He’s grateful and thinks she’s a saint… but he feels so guilty, believing that he really might never shake off the fear. That she’ll wait her whole life for him and he’ll let her down.

When the time finally comes, the acceptance is just as intense as the anxiety. He might even go over to her house in the middle of the night, standing outside her window and just shouting that he’s ready to get married. Although it might be a rather funny moment, particularly given that it’s possible he wakes up other members of her household, it’s also a love scene right out of a Shakespearean drama. As soon as it hits him that he wants to spend his life with her, that he doesn’t care if it at first feels like being ‘tied down’, that he doesn’t care if he drowns in his own feelings… he gets excited. Because this is what he’s been waiting for.

As soon as she’s there with him, he takes her in his arms and kisses her like he thinks he might lose her and asks her whether she wants a spring or winter wedding. He’s ready at last, and he’s never again going to let his doubts nearly talk him out of something he wants. And as far as that goes… well. He wants her more than anything else.

[tc-doherty]

Anyway, since I'm finally satisfied with all of their names, here are the 6 unusual disciples (oldest to youngest) of the Sword Saint from Untitled 8:

Sun Qingque - everyone says he’s unsuitable to be his master's disciple and they aren’t entirely wrong. But the Sword Saint chose him for a very specific reason and that reason is that he has a very warm, patient, and caring personality. He's good at taking care of others, and good at teaching others. Since the Sword Saint likes picking up such strange individuals, who else could be the senior disciple except for someone who actually has the temperament to take care of them all?

Even so, he doesn't think very highly of himself and has a tendency to be self-sacrificing. Because of that, he was actually forbidden from studying the sword in earnest and primarily uses spells and talismans.

Duan Zaozao - no one is quite sure where she came from, the Sword Saint picked her up out of the wilderness and named her, and there's always been a rumor that she was raised by wolves which she has never denied.

She has a brash and temperamental personality, and can be very aggressive. She’s skilled at martial pursuits and while she did learn to use a sword, she primarily uses a whip and a bow. She is very protective of her fellow disciples.

Ren Yunqi -  seemingly proud and indifferent, she has no interest whatsoever in fighting. Instead she’s a doctor, and a very good one. She generally keeps to herself and has very little tolerance for nonsense or rowdiness. She has complaints to voice about almost all of her fellow disciples.

Still, she's always there when people need her.

Shen Xiali - the most even-tempered of the lot. She's the only one that actually uses a sword primarily, and is basically the Sword Saint’s "heir". She is close with Duan Zaozao and the two of them often hunt monsters together and/or find other excuses to hang out.

She is able to remain calm no matter what's going on around her and is very intelligent, so she's Sun Qingque’s right hand when it comes to taking care of everyone.

Ye Xuyan - he doesn't trust others easily, and will try to do everything by himself. He's high-strung and focused to the point of being borderline obsessive. He’s relaxed considerably thanks to Sun Qingque and Shen Xiali’s influence.

Initially he did want to use a sword but was cautioned against it. He still learned how to use one, but in terms of fighting he tends to use music more.

Xie Mengzhu - the youngest of the bunch. He has a loud and excitable personality. He looks up to Duan Zaozao and also tries to use a bunch of weapons, although he doesn't really have a natural affinity for any of them. In theory he's willing, but in reality his attention span is rather short. Perhaps he'll settle down as he gets older.

[darling-i-read-it]

My King

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: burns, violence, injuries

Author’s Note: This was so cute omg, I hope you enjoy love!

Requested; by anon, Hi love I absolutely adore your writing and I was wondering if you could request the ‘who did this to you trope’ with Nikolai please Thank you

Summary: the request!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka, was the only man in this world that could make you actually visibly flustered. Boy did he love that. He used it to his advantage whenever he could and even managed to make you laugh here and there.

You stood behind him, looking down at his radiant blonde hair. You brushed through it carefully, making sure there were no tangles. He looked at you through the mirror and you pretended not to notice.

“You have to talk more with the suitors today,” you muttered, focused on combing through his hair.

“No I don’t,” he said. “I’ve picked my Queen.” You rolled your eyes. He caught it and couldn’t help but smile softly.

“I can’t be Queen Nikolai.” You met his eyes through the reflection. He looked effortlessly handsome, though he always did. You were always amazed at his stunning looks. Nikolai was a regal man and if nothing else, looked like he was fit to be a King.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because I’m not royal.” You put your hands on his shoulders and leaned down, tilting your head to see him face to face. He met your gaze, that charming look in his eyes. “And you won’t get any prospects from being with me. You won’t get any money. You won’t get any land. You’ll get only me and that is not enough.”

“It’s plenty!” he protested. “I don’t need land or money or prospects. I just need you.” You shook your head and turned around, walking over to his bed. You handed him the clothing that his people had picked out for him to wear.

“No you want me. Ravka needs someone suited for the job.” Nikolai hated when you brought Ravka into this. If he was a low servant boy the two of you would have been married ages ago. He stood and turned around, holding his clothing in his hand.

“I will convince you.”

“No you won’t,” you muttered absentmindedly. “I have to call Genya to get things prepared for next week. You get dressed.”

“I won’t get married to anyone else.”

“We can have an affair on the side, will that make you happy?”

“No. I will not produce a bastard and make our child suffer the way I have,” he grumbled. You met his eyes kindly.

“Who says I want children with you?”

“You can’t keep your hands off me, I’m fairly certain your actions betray your words.” You rolled your eyes and put your hand on his chest as you walked past.

“Get dressed Nikolai. I’ll be with Genya if you need me.”

You left the room and he was left alone with his mind and his clothes. He stared at the door for a second, shaking his head. He knew that you were right. He knew that you understood this situation better than most. But he also knew that as long as you were alive, he could never love another person. He didn’t want to and he didn’t need to. You would make a wonderful Queen.

He would convince you one day, he was sure of it.

====

Genya held a clipboard in her hand. You wondered briefly if she had different colors to match what she wanted to go for that day. You almost never saw her without some sort of planning ability.

“I wish you would just marry him, save us all the trouble,” Genya said softly. You rolled your eyes.

“Trust me, if I could I would.”

“You’re completely able. You aren’t repulsed by him like some of the women coming. You aren’t his cousin, you aren’t underage. You’re both in love and that should be enough.”

“It’s enough for him. Not enough for Ravka.” You let out a small sigh and was about to say something else when a guard entered the room. You raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t announced himself or anything which was unusual. You are one of the closest to the King and usually was shown that respect. But this man looked very worried.

“There’s a Grisha at the gates, demanding to come in.”

“Do you know who it is?” you asked. He shook his head. You pursed your lips and spared Genya a glance. You were a very talented Heartrender and could use your power for defense if necessary. “What kind of Grisha?”

“Inferni.” You let out a soft sigh. That wasn’t great news.

“Should I find Zoya?” Genya asked. You shook your head.

“Zoya isn’t in Ravka.” She was out with Nina, hopelessly spying on others. She had protested quite often but you made her go. She could do good out there and could come back to lead her post later. You turned to the guard. “Come.”

===

You didn’t bother stopping to tell Nikolai. You could handle this yourself, you were sure. It was one Grisha. You had fought plenty before. You could handle one Inferni. You did wish you hadn’t told Zoya to go though. She was much more powerful than you.

You reached the gates and saw the fire immediately. Your few Tidemakers were doing their best to battle the flames but the Inferni looked skilled. You wondered if they were a member of the Second Army before the war.

You saw him standing at the edge of the gates.

“Let me see the King!” he yelled at the guards, shooting flames aimlessly. You focused, slowing his heart rate at your will. He looked frightened as he realized what was happening to him. You approached cautiously.

“The King is busy today,” you said. He clutched his chest. “Can I help you?”

“I want…” he breathed heavily, “to kill the King.” You shook your head.

“That isn’t going to happen today.” He looked up at you and before you knew it he had shot a ball of fire in your direction. It knocked you down, causing you to lose your focus. Pain flew to your limbs as you put the fire out. You raised your hand to him and crippled him down to his knees more harshly this time. You took the air from his lungs, your own body singed and smoking as you did so. You guestered to a Tidemaker and some guards. “Take him.”

They did as they were told, dragging him to the dungeon. He gasped for air until he was out of your sight.

You sat in the courtyard for a moment, reveling in your pain. No one approached you for a moment, unsure if you were able to stand on your own or not. You wobbled to your feet and guestered to a guard.

“Send for Genya Safin.”

“Should I get the King?” the guard asked.

“Saints no,” you breathed.

You walked back inside the castle and soon enough saw Genya rushing towards you. Her eyes went wide in horror.

“Why didn’t you ask for a Healer?” she exclaimed.

“I wanted you to take me there,” you breathed, laughing gently. She held you up and started to walk towards the nearest Healer when you saw Nikolai coming down the stairs, a guard trailing after him. He ran up to you, putting his arms around your waist and holding you up. Genya let you go into his grasp. Your eyes narrowed on the guard. “You disobeyed me.”

“He insisted on knowing whenever you were hurt,” the guard said quietly. You shook your head.

“Who did this to you?” Nikolai almost growled. You tried not to think of the monster inside him as he spoke in an animalistic tone.

“Inferni at the gates.”

“You should have called for help.”

“I can handle myself.” He turned to Genya.

“Take her to the Healers, I’m going to see this Inferni.” You gave him a look as he put you back into her care.

“Nikolai don’t do anything stupid unprotected,” you muttered, wincing in pain.

“He’ll get what's coming to him,” Nikolai muttered as he walked away from you.

====

The Healers tended to your wounds quickly and were able to avoid having any serious burns. You had gotten lucky. Nikolai was right though, you should have sent for help. You rested in your room, bandages over your various injuries.

The door opened without a knock which meant it was no one but Nikolai. You looked over at him.

“What did you do?” you asked evenly. He quickly sat at your side, grabbing your hand in his. He leaned forward and brushed your hair out of your face.

“He will be tried for high treason.”

“He didn’t commit high treason. He can’t even be tried for an assasination attempt, he never got close to you.” Nikolai smiled slyly and met your eyes.

“First off, I’m the King and I get to say who is tried with high treason. Second off, it was not an assassination attempt on the King of Ravka, it was however an assassination attempt on the future Queen of Ravka.” You went completely silent for a few moments, his words hanging in the air.

“You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“I did. In fact, I told Genya to stop planning for the suitors' arrival next week.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Then I told her to get an official announcement prepared.”

“Nikolai-”

“Be quiet for a moment,” he said, meeting your eyes. “You got rather lucky today. You’re very lucky actually that you happened to be at the castle where there are the best Healers around. If you hadn’t been, your burns could have been much worse and you could have died.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch.”

“Shh!” He cleared his throat. “I won’t lose you. You are the most fit to be Queen and we will secure the Lantsov line with our children.”

“I’m Grisha thou-”

“Darling, if you interrupt me one more time I will poke an injury.” You smiled a bit and rolled your eyes. “My decision is final. I am your King and I have made my choice.” He paused. “If you’ll have me.” You had a feeling that he was telling you the truth. There was no way to talk him out of this. Truth be told, you wanted nothing more than to marry him. You had wanted it since the moment he laid eyes on you. You closed your eyes for a moment and shook your head, laughing gently.

“Fine. Yes, Nikolai, I will marry you.” A bright smile went over his face as he clapped his hands together and then turned to you, kissing you gently. You moaned in pain and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry. Just excited. Oh Genya is going to love this. She’ll have a ball planning our wedding. Oh and I have so many ideas for the honeymoon, you’re going to love it.” You grabbed his hand and couldn’t help but feel equally excited.

“We can talk more about it in the morning. Right now, I’m exhausted.”

“Oh yes of course. Scoot over.”

“Nikolai, you have things to do today.”

“Scoot.” You rolled your eyes and did as you were told. He laid on the bed beside you, putting his arm around your shoulder. You rested your head on his chest.

“Goodnight my darling,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

“Goodnight my King.”

Grishaverse Tag List: @elisaa-shelby

@chameleon-junkie

[hello-nichya-here]

How NOT to write romance - How I Met Your Mother edition

Warning: long-ass post and lots of bitterness over a TV show that ended nearly eight years ago.

Basics for story-telling

If the romance you want to write is dysfunctional, fucking embrace it and have fun with the concept instead of pretending the bad shit the characters do is okay because “it’s true love”

Acknowledgde that your main character has flaws instead of acting like he is a saint who can do no wrong for no reason other than “he is the main character. Definitively don’t make him do, of his own free will, the exact exact same things the supposedly “selfish and cruel” womanizer does and then excuse it as him having “succumbed to/been tricked by a bad influece” like he’s child who doesn’t know any better instead of being a grown ass adult.

Don’t make your characters be annoying, entitled fuckers who think they have the right to judge others for wanting different things out of a relationship/not wanting a relationship at all. Don’t act like monogamy, double dates with other couples, marriage and children are something EVERYONE secretly wants deep down.

Don’t demonize the “evil” character of the group and act like the “heroes” being appalled by the shit he does is anything other than hypocricy. There’s literally nothing forcing them to be friends with him, so they’re obviously not as horrified at bad shit he does as they say they are, otherwise they would have ditched him a long time ago.

Don’t have the “heartless womanizer”,  who we later find out is the ex-husband of the girl the lead wanted for himself, be shown to us exclusively through the eyes of the an unreliable narrator who had motivation to make him see worse than he is likely to be (get his kids to want him to get the girl instead of the “douchebag”). Also, don’t make his schemes to trick women into sleeping with them so completely absurd and ridiculous that the audience is pretty sure that 70% of the women he banged were completely aware he just wanted a quick fuck and went along with it anyway because they wanted some dick (and because the character is played by Neil Patric Harris, who is incapable of not being charismatic)

Fucking let you characters (especially the supposed hero we’re supposed to think is the best boyfriend ever) grow instead of making them constantly repeat the same mistakes

Lily and Marshall

Don’t make one of the characters hide something very important from their partner, and then have the audacity to be mad at them for “just not understanding” as if they were given any reason to understand what the problem even is

Don’t act like someone being heartbroken that their partner lied to them and practically made a plan to “escape” being married to them means they’re not being “supportive” of said partners dream - you should especially not do that after we were shown that they took a job they didn’t like just to make sure they’d have a secure future that would allow said partner to follow their dream.

Don’t have the character who was obviously in the wrong need to be convinced to get their shit together and apologize to their ex.

If a character forgave the ex who wronged them and even got back together with them, don’t have them constantly hold their past mistakes over their head like it that problem has not already been solved - you especially not make them do that on what was supposed to be their wedding day. They can either forgive their partner or not, they can’t keep going back and forth.

Don’t have them constantly hide important shit from each other (having a huge financial debt, getting a job, etc)

DO NOT have the character who fucked up years prior suddenly be willing to do the same shit again for the EXACT same reason (”I think our relationship is in the way of my dreams and I’m now completely isolated because I refuse to talk things out with you”) and then expect the audience to sympathize with them.

Ted and Robin 

Unless you’re writing a Disney/Disney-esque romance, don’t have your lead just look at someone across the room, decide they’re “The one”, imagine their life together and full on say “I’m love with you” AND “I love you” on the first goddamn date.

Don’t have the lead stalk his love interest, and throw three parties in a row just to have an excuse to get close to her now that she made it clear she is not interested in having a relationship with him.

Don’t have the “hero” lie about having broken up with his girlfriend so the girl he wants to be with will sleep with him, and then have him blame his actions on time. “Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.” Grow a pair of balls, Ted!

If one of the characters says “You’re going too fast on the whole ‘love’ thing. Can’t we just go on a few dates and see what happens instead of already starting to plan our lives together?” and the others throws a fit, that is called “being incompatible” and “damn, this dude doesn’t respect boundaries”, not “Wow, she’s so afraid of commitment”

If you want the audience to believe the main character’s feelings are not one-sided, don’t make the fact that said feelings ARE unrequited a running joke, and don’t have the girl only accept giving him a chance after having to deal with the fucker whining “But I love you” for months and/or after going through bad break ups. Also, if you have to retcon half the fucking show to “proove” that “she DOES love him”, that pairing fucking sucks.

Don’t compare the couple you want the audience to root for to the main character’s divorced, dysfunctional parents, and don’t have flashbacks showing that the lead had no clue what his girlfriend actually liked in bed AND that she literally covered up his face so she could pretend she was fucking someone else.

DON’T MAKE HER GET RID OF HER DOGS, YOU FUCKING MONSTER!

If your lead character is still jealous/possessive of his ex, thinks he still has a chance even after she told him to his face that she didn’t love him, and acts like she and her fiance (who he says is his friend) being happy is somehow them being selfish and cruel, your lead character is a loser AND an asshole.

Don’t throw away the entire premise of the show (Ted finding the REAL love of his life) just to force a bad pairing down the audience’s throat

Ted Mosby in general

Don’t have your “romantic, sensitive hero” break up with a girl on her birthday through an answering machine, come back into her life without warning years later because he’s afraid he’ll die alone, and find out that she never heard the message but was actually told about it by her friends and family who were at her apartment preparing a surprise party for her. You should especially not make his first reaction to this new be being mad that he was not invited to the party, and for the love of God, don’t make him break up with her on her birthday AGAIN.

Don’t have the “hero” cheat on his girlfriend and excuse it with bullshit like “Nothing good happens 2 a.m.” and “But I genuinely love Robin so it’s okay that I’m lying to both of them”. Do not, I repeat, do NOT have him blame it on his girlfriend being distant when she didn’t pick up the phone one night and then called back the second she was free to do so, while he was enjoying the gifts she sent him and LIED to her about having sent her some as well.

Don’t fucking make an entire episode with the premise of him turning a no into a yes - and telling that story to his children like it’s romantic.

Don’t have his fiance, who he knows has a rocky relationship with the father of her daughter, tell him she is uncomfortable with him inviting his ex to their wedding and then have him decide “This means I should invite her ex as well”. Also don’t expect me to feel bad for him when she runs off with said ex.

Don’t have him spend YEARS waiting for one of the hundreds of girls he thinks is “the one” to be single and even ask her neighbour to spy on her and let him know when/if she breaks up with her boyfriend - again, for YEARS.

Don’t have the lead say he’s gonna tell their kids about his love story with their DECEASED mother, only for it to secretly be an excuse for him to go “By the way, I’m still in love with aunt Robin despite her having rejected me for 25 years, can I go screw her?”

Don’t act like making the characters reverse back into who they were at the beginning at the story means they’re gonna make things work this time when the whole point of their break up in the beginning on the story was the fact that they’re just not right for each other.

Robin and Kevin

A therapist who was supposed to help their patient move on after a bad break up that messed them up, dating said patient is a major red flag. It is also a bad sign that, when she cheats on him and wants to break up, he realized what she was doing to used his job as “evidence” that he knew better and that she should NOT tell her partner how she felt/what she actually wanted.

Do NOT have said therapist date yet ANOTHER patient that asked him help to move on from a bad break up. Seriously, Kevin was a creep, stop acting like he was some angel who “deserved better than Robin.”

BONUS: How NOT to break up a couple - Barney and Robin edition

Don’t act like their relationship falling appart after their friends kept meddling, and even kept them locked in a room against their will until they labeled their relationship as something they aproved of, is somehow “proof” that they’re not good for each other.

Don’t retcon their relationship to force a break up (seriously, Barney was super supportive of Robin long before he even fell in love with her, but I’m supposed to believe he’d be a bad boyfriend who is never there for her? And he loved advantures and always said “challenge accepted”, but was suddenly miserable travelling the world with her and couldn’t deal with not having wi-fi at the hotel? Fuck off)

Don’t spend an entire season focusing on their wedding, have them get married and then divorce THE NEXT FUCKING EPISODE! Why do you hate your audience? Even people who don’t want them together can see this a terrible idea.

And most important of all, when people question what the fuck were you thinking, don’t have a meltdown on twitter and say that people who think Barney can change are responsible for Donald Trump being elected, you fucking weirdo, go see a therapist (that isn’t like Kevin)

[yesimwriting]

The Problem With Light

a/n i literally did not mean to write this, i was working on requests and then my mind was like ‘remember that lowkey love triangle kaz brekker x reader x darkling thing you always say you're going to write’ so yeah,, here we are :)),, two longer fics are coming!! 

- 

Summary: Kaz changes his plans after meeting the Sun Summoner and Kirigan teeters on a line the reader isn’t sure she wants. 

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Chapter One: The Conflicts of Prayer 

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Narrator. 

--

Kaz knows a lot about patience. He knows how to bear the weight that the passage of time thrusts onto one's shoulder. He knows how to cultivate the seeds that he sews. If he wasn’t like this he’d stand no chance at one day avenging the ghost that refuses to leave him. 

But Jesper is almost an hour late. Kaz has been standing in a dimly hit branch of a relatively important hallway in the Little Palace. Jesper was supposed to come while in disguise to bring Kaz his new disguise and his newly repaired cane. Kaz’s hand flexes again, wishing he could feel the detailed head of one of his few comforts beneath the broken-in leather of his gloves. A bitter part of him claims that if Jesper isn’t injured once he arrives, he’ll be injured once Kaz gets his hand on his cane. 

He shifts his weight, the pain in his leg starting to take its toll. The slight relaxation disappears once he hears footsteps. Kaz turns, ignoring the ache the motion brings him. His entire body hardens, preparing for a fight. He doesn’t look like he belongs here yet and there’s nowhere to run. The person crossing his path will need to be taken care of--knocked out or something more permanent. 

The person only pauses to look at him when Kaz angles himself forward in a fighting stance. He watches the person, a girl, shifts back slightly, eyes wide and defensive. She’s a mess--hair disheveled, nose slightly bleeding, and dirty kefta. Her appearance isn’t why Kaz finds himself frozen, not because of the girl’s appearance but because she’s her. Y/n l/n. The Sun Summoner. 

“Sorry! I--” She almost winces, but then her eyebrows furrow together. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Kaz’s jaw locks. He could take her physically, but for all he knows she could raise her arms and blind him permanently with her light. “That’s okay,” she breathes, something in her looking a little relieved, “I’m not supposed to be here either.” Kaz watches her oddly, wondering if her trustingness is a trap in itself. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

It’s a joke. That much is clear by the gentle uptilt of her lips. It’s as if she doesn’t know she’s bleeding and looks like she just ran out of a fight. Her expression doesn’t harshen at his silence. Kaz finds himself disliking that. It’s not enough that she can summon the sun, she also has to seem like it.

He needs to say something. Jesper was supposed to be watching her and now he’s not here and she is. The plan is unraveling and if he talks she’ll stay here or reveal where she’s going to next. That’s the kind of thing he needs to salvage this. 

His lips part, but he’s not sure what to say. “You’re not supposed to be here?” 

She shakes her head once. “No--I’m supposed to be in personal training, but I kind of got my ass kicked in group training and my pride needs a break.” The admission leaves her sheepishly. “It’s probably for the best, becoming a Sun Summoner overnight has given me a bit of an ego.” She sighs, the sound strangely light. “Then again, I kind of need an ego for what’s wanted from me and if one bad fight is all it takes to kill it then it’s not strong enough, considering--” Kaz tenses as she cuts herself off. “Sorry, I’m rambling, we both have places to be.” Hope presses into him stiffly. She’s going to say it. “Where--where are you supposed to be?” She shifts back slightly. “Not that I have to know, but you’re not from here, and--” 

Kaz steps forward, pushing through the stiffness in his leg. Y/n’s gaze drops. Kaz’s discomfort worsens, someone like her doesn’t need to know his weaknesses. “Are you here for me to pray for you?” She scratches her arm, “I-I can, but I tell everyone I pray for I don’t consider myself a Saint.” 

The honesty of the comment twisted something in Kaz’s thoughts. “Yes,” he lies, partially distracted by the beginnings of a scheme. He can feel Inej’s future anger as he lies again, “I’m here for prayer.” 

“I spent so long rambling,” she says in a tone that implies apology. 

He nods once, wondering how someone could  be that apologetic and survive. The weight of such power must strangle someone like her. That could be a good thing. Someone like her must be spiraling with all this change and sudden strength. Maybe this could be simpler than an abduction plan, a few choice words and he could convince the girl to come with him. He could get her to believe there was something she needed to do in Ketterdam. If she went there willingly, things could be much more efficient. 

Inej won’t like this, and for this to work he’ll have to think of the right way to present the plan to her. He weighs his options and the details as y/n whispers words with her eyes closed and hands folded together. The words he can make out are kind. He expected that, but what he didn’t expect was the earnestness of them. 

She means each part of her prayers. Kaz regrets noticing that. 

“I can’t promise my prayers do anything,” she finishes, voice returning to its normal volume, “but I hope you get what you need.” 

What he wants is within his grasp now that he knows what to do. “I’m sure good things are near.” It’s the most honest he’s been since her arrival. 

Y/n nods once, “I should go before my reprieve costs me more than it's worth.” 

He watches her disappear down the hallway. Her movements are light, calm and unweighted. 

“Boss,” Jesper’s appearance is brash, “I’ve spent this entire time looking for her. She was in training like she was supposed to, took an awul blow, delivered an even meaner one, and then disappeared.”

Kaz tries to imagine the same hands that were just so neatly folded in prayer as fists. “You just missed her.” He doesn’t wait for Jesper’s reaction, he just takes his newly repaired cane back. “And we’re changing the plan.” 

--

Y/n.

--

I tried going to Baghra. I told someone who believed my prayers meant something that I was going back to training. But then I remembered her words from last time and the shame I felt when I could not create light. I haven’t summoned light once without Kirigan’s touch. 

I’m the Sun Summoner--I am the person that summons the sun by themselves. Kirigan and I aren’t the Sun Summoner together. I’m pathetic. And instead of trying to get better, I’m wandering the library because all anyone can talk about is the way Zoya punched me in the face. 

Baghra picked me apart when I looked shiny. I can’t imagine the kinds of comments she’d make if she saw me with a bloody nose and dead leaves in my hair. I’ll go tomorrow, once Genya fixes both my matted hair and cracked self esteem. 

For now, I have the one thing that’s always comforted me. My books. I wander the library, trying not to think of anything. Of Baghra, of Zoya, of the strange man in the hall. 

He seemed weighted by something. I always wish I could do more for those that ask for my prayer, but the longing is sharper now. I don’t know him, so it’s ridiculous to want to help him so badly, but my uselessness itches beneath my skin in a way I’m not used to. I don’t know why I feel more protective about this stranger than others. I’ve had people fall to my feet weeping, begging for me to save them. That hurt me, but the desire to help this one stranger burns in a way I’ve never felt before.  

“I don’t know why they don’t look for you here every time you disappear.” His voice is as soft and subtle as a shadow. “They’d save so much time.” 

I fight the urge to defensively grasp the first book I can reach. “You’re making it sound like I have a habit of vanishing in order to make a point.” My defense is weak. We both know that this isn’t the first time I ran away from something here. “Sometimes absence is just that.” 

“When you’ve waited for someone as long as I have, all absence is significant.” The words are not harsh but they should be. I don’t know how I could respond to that. 

He steps forward easily, as he always does. I keep myself still despite the way that warmth settles against my chest uncomfortably. I manage to hold onto my stillness even when he raises a hand, one gentle finger brushing above my top lip. I tense at his lingering touch. 

Kirigan turns his hand slowly, exposing the red on his fingertips. “How di--” 

“Training,” I interrupt quickly, “I promise I got a decent hit in as well.” 

When he nods, his expression is clearly weighted but I cannot interpret it. He almost always looks like that. I shouldn’t find anything about the man that stole me from everything I’ve ever known (even though he had good reason to do so) alluring, but I want to understand him. It’d feel like knowing a secret the rest of the world is desperate for. 

For a moment we just stand there, Kirigan closer than he’s ever been. Sometimes when he’s quiet I think he knows my secrets. All of mine. Even my curiosity about him. “I don’t doubt that.” 

At least he tries to be nice to me sometimes. It’s more than anyone else here can say. Except maybe Genya. “You don’t have to say that.” He knows it’s true. “Keep in mind you found me in the library, hiding from Baghra.” 

He hesitates. “No one likes training.”

“I think I’d find it tolerable if…” Can I say this to him? Admit the extent of my helplessness? He looks at me patiently, waiting for me to give something to him. “I’m the Sun Summoner--that’s supposed to be me. That’s supposed to be mine, and I can’t do it by myself.” 

The patheticness of my struggle hits me in full force. I drop my head as he weighs my words. “It’s in you,” he says it so surely I don’t think I could argue. 

I smile politely. “Thank you.” 

Kirigan reaches downwards, towards my wrist. He latches onto me so quickly I’m too surprised to back away. “Light,” he prompts like it really is that easy. 

I know I can do it with him, so I don’t see the point in showing it. “It doesn’t count if I get help.” 

“Y/n.” Sometimes I think his voice is softer when he speaks my name. 

I raise my hands, overlaying them, letting the hand that he touches make up the base of my cup. Reaching into myself, I search for the power beneath my skin. With him, that power seems to sit directly beneath the surface, desperate and greedy. I don’t call to it, instead I simply let it flow. The light bleeds from me, a sphere of blinding light bursts into my hands. It’s bright, burning, and desperate to escape my control. 

My mind clamps around the power tightly, restraining it without choking it out until the light in my hands is exactly as small as I want it to be. I hold it there, letting its warmth melt away all of the bad. I let it grow, the light illuminating a path I can barely see--a path in which I do not disappoint those that need to have faith in something and for some unknown reason decided to place it in me. I hold onto that feeling, and then I let the light disappear. 

I smile at my hands. The only good that’s come from this is the way the light makes me feel. “Y/n.” I look up at Kirigan, who’s showing me both of his palms. “That was you.” 

A feeling better than the light coils up my stomach and into my heart. I grin. I did it without him. I can do it without him. “That--how did you know that would work?” 

“I knew that you could do it, you just needed to see it.” 

Warmth fills me, light and easy. A little too light. I have to work at not reaching for him, not because I need to, but because I want to. “Thank you.” This time I mean it.

“Your gratitude is premature,” he warns, but nothing about it is harsh, “I’m here to send you back to training.” 

At least the thought of facing Baghra no longer devastates me. “There’s always a catch.” I smile, hoping he understands what he’s done for me. “But I think this time it may be worth it.” 

He almost smiles. “Tell me if you still feel that way after spending time with Baghra.” 

A fair warning. It’s more than I expect from him. “Will do.” 

Kirigan’s expression threatens to soften, but he turns away from me with a soft nod before I can try to decipher the look. I let him leave before disappearing down another hall, forcing myself to look for Baghra. I think of my interaction with both Kirigan and the stranger, at least Baghra won’t be the weirdest part of my day

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

I and Love and You

The fifth in Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Mood board also by the lovely and talented @pascalispretty !! Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted on ao3!

Part Five of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Warnings: Total and complete tooth rotting fluff. Schedule an appointment with your dentists, ladies and germs. Rafael is, as always, a bit of a jackass. You will probably have an incurable craving for breakfast food. And the teeniest tiniest mention of daddy kink. Rating: E for everyone because there is nothing objectionable in this at all, I did not think we could actually write something this sweet lol. Word Count: 3725 Summary: Mornings are for cookies and contemplation.

When Rafa wakes up, he spares a moment to sympathize with his growling stomach. More than one moment, if he’s being honest with himself. He isn’t normally an early riser but his stomach wouldn’t be so empty if he’d been allowed to have his bedtime snack and not rudely distracted by his two partners and an ingenious application of his second favorite blue tie. The result is pleasantly sore abdominal muscles and the rare opportunity to wake up in time to see the both of them still peacefully asleep in bed next to him.

Fred’s back is pressed close to his chest and his legs brush against Rafa’s as he levers himself up onto his elbow to look at her on Fred’s other side. Her face is tucked against Fred’s neck and the doctor’s arms are wrapped tightly around her, and Rafa smiles at them both, still asleep in the soft grey early morning light.

Fred shifts, and an irritable frown passes over his face the longer Rafa uses him to balance himself to stare at the two of them, so Rafa quickly presses a kiss to his temple before settling back down with a sigh.

It’s too early to be up, really, but he’s starving and is not getting back to sleep without eating something. He grunts and sits up before pressing another kiss to Fred’s shoulder. He swings his legs out of bed and grabs a pair of grey sweatpants.

Rafa trudges down the hall to the kitchen. There were still Bugles hidden in the back of Fred’s Tupperware cabinet. Oh shit, had he eaten them all? He flicks on the light to the kitchen and huffs a quiet laugh when he finds a sticky note on the door of said cabinet in Fred’s small, precise handwriting.

Sorry, I ate the last of your chips two days ago. In my defense, counselor, you left them in my house and I was having a very stressful day. I made you cookies instead, they’re on top of the microwave. I figured you’d be up before the both of us this morning since you didn’t get your snack. --An Apologetic Psychiatrist who feels like he shouldn’t be apologizing for eating food in his own cupboards.

Rafa runs his fingers over the note a few times, smiling like an idiot, his heart feeling full and warm and about seven sizes larger than it was when he woke up. He turns his head and sees a plastic container (with a green lid because the green Tupperware was for storage of baked goods as Fred was constantly reminding him) right where Fred said it would be, and when he steps over to investigate it further he finds a batch of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Another note is stuck to the lid.

I know these aren’t your favorite. I know that you don’t really enjoy white chocolate. Consider this my attempt to make sure you don’t eat all of these in one sitting. Please limit yourself to two; you aren’t in your 20’s anymore, Rafael, and it’s not even a normal time for breakfast yet, much less cookies. --A Not Apologetic Psychiatrist who doesn’t want your first heart attack to be in his apartment, thank you very much.

Rafa rolls his eyes and peels the lid off, smirking as he deliberately takes three out of the box. He doesn’t hate white chocolate, after all, and he does love macadamia nuts. And he has always had a problem following instructions.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Rafa eats his cookies with a pleased groan, once again thanking whatever saints or angels his mami appeals to for sending him a partner that bakes. Not that he thinks his mother would have prayed for someone at all like Fred. Fussy, officious, arrogant, snobby, and, well, a man. His mother would have had someone like their younger lover in mind however. Smart, pretty, and willing to stand up to his attitude. Most of the time anyways. Well, what did Lucia Barba always say? You can make as many requests of God as you want to but remember that He has a sense of humor too? She got him a little extra than what her original request probably specified.

Rafa snorts at the thought and brushes crumbs off his bare chest, leaning back against the counter and surveying the kitchen in the growing light. He’s still hungry but he knows he’ll hear about it if Fred wakes up and all of those cookies are gone. And today is supposed to be the one day this whole month the three of them can spend just being quiet together with no plans, no work, and no prior obligations. He’d rather not spend it all dodging Fred’s passive aggressive jabs and her pouting looks and quiet pleas to please just be the bigger man and apologize.

He stretches his arms out on the counter behind him and tips his head back, staring absently at Fred’s kitchen ceiling as he contemplates making his way back to bed and napping until Fred wakes up and decides to order in breakfast. He’s nearly settled on that plan when he catches sight out of the corner of his eye of the bright blue note on the cupboard. He doesn’t remember Fred spending any time in the kitchen before the two of them dragged Rafa into the bedroom to put his ties to a much more interesting use. He must have gotten out of bed after Rafa fell asleep to put this together, and Rafa can’t help the smile that spreads over his entire face.

Rafa slaps his palms on the counter and shoves himself off, making his way over to the fridge to see what Fred has in the way of actual food. He’s already awake; the least he can do is make breakfast.

He finds the ingredients for pancakes easily enough--Fred is a stickler for organization. Rafa tries not to make a mess as he moves around the perfectly arranged and spotless kitchen. He stirs the batter by hand rather than risk the noise of the KitchenAid but pauses over whether or not to put chocolate chips in.

She would be pleased, her sweet tooth nearly rivals his own, but Fred would almost definitely be annoyed. Especially because Rafa has already had chocolate earlier in the morning. With a fond sigh, Rafa puts the glass jar back in the cupboard, though not before tipping a few of the chocolate chips out into his hand.

It reminds him of cooking in Fred’s beautiful house in Baltimore, his sweet girl laughing and dancing around the kitchen in one of Fred’s shirts, barely being any help at all. All three of them adore the big, beautiful house that Fred had shyly shown them--as if they could have done anything else other than fall in love with it.

Fred relaxed slightly when it became clear that his guests found the house as beautiful as he did. Rafa tried to help her in slowing Fred down as he showed it to them, asking questions about particular objects or features and pointing out the things they especially admired. Every sincere compliment kept a gratified little smile plastered on Fred’s face--and there was plenty to compliment him on.

It’s clear that it holds a special place in Fred’s heart. It’s so him, every inch of it reflecting back the man who poured so much time and effort and money into making it a home. From the collection of antique medical texts carefully displayed on the shelves to the exact shade of teal velvet upholstery on some of the armchairs, Fred had lavished attention on the house to surround himself with things he loved and found beautiful. It amused Rafa to wonder if he’d taken that into account when he’d invited his partners over; whether they’d laud the elegant aesthetic he’d established in his home.

Shifting the spoon briefly to give his right hand a break from mixing, he smiles at the memory. He’s never actually admitted to Fred how much he likes playing house with his two partners there. Rafa is fairly certain that the kitchen in the Baltimore house is larger than the apartment that he grew up in and he knows that a wine cellar is an absurd luxury. But it’s a place where the three of them are free to be themselves, without worrying about nosy neighbors and doormen.

Rafa snorts quietly, folding the batter briskly to get out all the little flour bubbles. That pretty well explains how he feels about Fred too. Fred is too high maintenance, too abrasive in all the ways Rafa normally hates, too… prep school, but Rafa can’t help but smile indulgently every time he turns his nose up at a meal that costs less than fifty dollars, or every time he gets that prissy stubborn look on his face, or juts his chin out and point blank refuses to admit that he’s wrong (even though Rafa can tell that he knows that he is).

He never apologizes either. Ever. He’ll be proven wrong, he’ll hurt both their feelings, and the closest to any sort of acknowledgment of wrongdoing that the both of them will get will be a cup of coffee in bed the next morning, one of Fred’s most handsome smiles, and the complete and sudden cessation of all hostilities like the fight never happened. Rafa knows that with anyone else that kind of behavior would be a relationship killer.

Rafa looks over the batter and nods to himself, satisfied with the consistency, and balances the spoon against the side of the bowl. He stares at the oven and frowns. Just pancakes hardly make breakfast. Going over to the fridge, he grabs bacon out of its particular place, rolling his eyes as he does so, and tosses it on the counter next to the pancake batter, reaching under the silverware drawer for a frying pan.

Maybe it’s the way Fred ‘apologizes’ with the perfect cup of coffee instead of actual words. Maybe it’s that same perfect cup of coffee that somehow manages to find its way onto his desk at work when he’s too swamped to go out and get one--just because Fred knows he needs it. Or a sandwich from his favorite deli and a quick flash of that handsome smile on Fred’s lunch break.

Rafa gets started on actually cooking said breakfast, hissing and swearing quietly when he gets a first-hand demonstration of why you shouldn’t fry things without a shirt on. Fred would have more than a few words to say to him about the relative intelligence of what he’s doing right now. He grins. Maybe that’s it--the way he cares while trying desperately to make it seem like every time it’s an inconvenience of the highest order.

Maybe Rafa loves Fred because every once in a while, when he’s very drunk, very tired, or the perfect combination of both, Fred slips a little and calls the both of them by those cute, ridiculous southern pet names that before now Rafa would have put money on being more myth than fact. And how embarrassed he is when it is pointed out to him that he just called a forty-something year old man ‘pickle’.

Fred is arrogant, prickly, particular, and both overindulgent and overly judgmental of vices depending on if he himself shares in them. He is a pain to get along with most of the time and sometimes treats the two of them like they’re made of spun gold--things to be cherished and well looked after and shown off to the best of his ability. He’s a contradictory monster and Rafa loves him.

He has a feeling that the smile on his face is sappy and ridiculous, but as he turns the bacon and settles to wait a few more minutes, he shrugs. There isn’t anyone else around this early to see him; his reputation as a son of a bitch and a jackass won’t be ruined. He loves Fred. He loves her. He loves both of them--sometimes so much it’s hard for him to keep it to himself and wait for them to come to the same conclusion. Their individual faults, foibles, and perfections and the way they mesh with each other and fit so surprisingly well in his own life.

Like getting new book recommendations from her--whenever he has the time to actually read something for fun. She leaves them on his home desk with a brief explanation why she thinks he’ll like them. That almost always makes up for the numerous occasions he has gone looking for one of his own books and found it had mysteriously jumped off its shelf and walked itself three rooms over, or managed to find itself completely out of order.

He drains the bacon onto a paper towel covered plate and gives the pan a quick rinse. He loves finding packets of M&M’s in his briefcase or in his suit coat pockets, loves knowing they’re from her and that she braved Fred’s ire to indulge his habit of constant snacking. A habit Fred particularly despises. He loves--most of the time--being a couple minutes late to work some mornings because she got into a nearly incoherent argument with him about what color tie he should wear. He loves that she loves his wardrobe as much as he does.

Rafa loves ganging up with her to tease Fred and loves that she can take some teasing herself. He loves that she just rolls her eyes and plays along when his puckish side emerges and he can’t help but be an asshole even though he can tell she would rather he didn’t.

Rafa starts pouring pancake batter, chuckling to himself when he recalls the mood she’d gotten into the last time his sense of humor had gotten the better of him. While waiting for a table in a restaurant, a strange woman had made a snide comment about ‘men dating women young enough to be their daughters’ and Rafa had been unable to resist feigning outrage and asking what was so terrible about a man taking his daughter out for a nice birthday dinner.

The woman had been mortified, and Rafa had enjoyed the look on her face so much that he’d only hammered the point home further, telling her it was hardly his fault he was a widower and a single parent. He hoped it had taught her a valuable lesson in boundaries. His sweet girl had been so embarrassed but it had been so worth it.

Flipping the first pancake, he thinks about the flaws that come with her youth. She’s always the first one to joke about having daddy issues and Rafa can hardly deny how much he enjoys hearing her call him papi--and Fred daddy--in bed. He just has to try not to think too deeply about it. Not that Rafa really has a leg to stand on where difficult paternal relationships are concerned. But her jokes mask an insecurity and a clinginess that Fred has a habit of overindulging. More than once when he’s been trying to work she’s tried to distract him or cuddle up to him and then gotten sulky when he had to gently but firmly rebuff her.

When he finally finishes work on those evenings, he usually finds her wrapped around Fred instead, giving him a wounded look when he finally emerges from behind his case files. Those looks are wordless guilt trips every time he’s on the receiving end of one--no matter how right he feels in his decision to work instead of play.

And yet somehow she’s worked the same magic on him that Fred has. A flaw that in anyone else would have stopped any idea of a relationship in its tracks is something that he’s come to love about her. Her clinginess comes from a place of emotional fragility and it must be hard to let her partners see that. The fact that she trusts them enough to be so vulnerable around them makes Rafa’s heart swell. He can’t help but love her, even when he’s dealing with her pouting and huffing.

Fred talks about it like Rafa is somehow being ungrateful, that he should drop everything to spend time with his beautiful, smart, young lover, and it drives Rafa crazy. He knows that Fred generally means well when he tries to appeal against his more workaholic tendencies, but he also knows that Fred could retire now and live off his trust fund if he wanted. It rubs him the wrong way when Fred tries to discourage him from working hard because he’s never needed to understand why Rafa works as hard as he does.

He starts stacking the cooked pancakes on a plate on the stove and furrows his brow in concentration. Fred gleefully indulges her in her clinginess, dropping everything to scoop her into his arms or take her to bed. They’ve even taken to napping together with his cock still tucked inside her, as if they can’t bear to be anything other than as close as physically possible. He’s stubbornly blind to the fact that Rafa can’t just drop what he’s doing. If Fred misses a deadline for submitting a journal article the worst that happens is it gets pushed back an issue. If Rafa misses something in his case files or submits something late or fails to prepare as fully as he should, it can ruin lives. Dangerous predators can be let out on the street to offend again. People don’t get the justice they deserve. And even in this day and age, a poor boy with a Spanish name is granted a lot less leeway with employers than a rich boy with a nice American name and family money.

They come from very different worlds, even if Rafa has carefully and thoroughly infiltrated Fred’s, and Rafa loves and hates it a little that Fred forgets that most of the time. Rafa has to always be ‘on’ and can’t afford the same kind of laxness that Fred can.

Sometimes he even has to be ‘on’ at home when he’d rather put his fist through a wall or wrap himself in every blanket in the apartment with a bottle of scotch and pass out. Like when he walks into whichever apartment they’re spending the night at to find Fred in a screaming match with her that he has to moderate. She likes to complain that he and Fred can really get into it like a pair of children, and he isn’t saying she’s wrong—they definitely can—but she and Fred are just as bad. Frankly, the three of them are cut from the same cloth when it comes to being pig headed and it makes for some rather loud and spirited fights.

Like the frequent battles she has with Fred over her occasional smoking habit. They always start out with Fred gently chiding and somehow end up with Fred snidely pulling out his “I went to medical school, therefore everyone else is a moron” voice and her reminding him that he couldn’t cut it as a real doctor and she’ll “smoke a goddamn fucking cigarette every once in a while if she fucking feels like it.” Rafa tries to interfere before it descends to “as much as you like to act like it sometimes, Frederick, you aren’t my father” and “maybe if you knew how to make better choices you wouldn’t be constantly seeking validation from older men,” but he doesn’t always get home in time and instead walks in to the both of them glaring icily at each other or shouting as many deliberately hurtful things as they can.

He likes to leave his courtroom face at work, but it’s generally the only thing that will defuse those battles, or at least calm them down into cold wars. Rafa doesn’t particularly enjoy playing mediator on the best of days, especially not when one wrong word from him will have one or both of them turning on him as another enemy combatant. He likes his occasional cigarette too, and he snacks constantly, and eats terribly; all things that Fred will use to drag him into a fight.

But while he hates trying to calm them down enough to at least stop yelling, he has to admit he loves having people around to yell in the first place. Yes, these fights mean he has to put on his lawyer face when he’d rather get drunk and pass out. But he has people in his life to break up fights between. He can come “home” to people who care about him. People who, when they aren’t screaming, see him come through the door and smile. People who would, and have on occasion, drop what they are doing to bring him something he left at home and needs now. People who drop a sandwich on his desk when he’s working and quietly--most of the time-- leave him to it.

People who care and appreciate him.

Rafa finishes setting plates and cutlery out on the island and starts the coffee maker. He loves having them a few rooms away. He loves knowing that they like him enough to put up with his “shoebox sized apartment”, with him being an incurable workaholic, with the fact that when he gets stressed or angry he lashes out at anyone around him. With the fact that when he does he can be more than a little cruel.

Rafa makes his way back into Fred’s bedroom, wincing as always at how bright it gets when the morning sun fully hits it. He smiles when he sees them still tucked against each other just like he had left them. He loves this view the most.

Rafa grins mischievously. They put up with his innate tendency to be a complete and utter jackass, and that is one more thing he loves about them.

“I just rearranged every single cupboard, bookshelf, and drawer in your entire apartment, Frederick!” Rafa informs the room in general. Loudly.

Fred’s eyes snap open and he sits up, dislodging his sleeping companion without a second glance. His gaze lands on Rafa, who is smirking next to him, and his eyes go comically wide in horror.

“Rafael Barba, you didn’t.”

Tag List: @sassyada, @dreamlover31, @prurientpuddlejumper, @storiesofsvu

[hd-cluefest]

H/D Clue Fest Masterlist

Cluefest Headquarters are finally unveiling the investigators of our cases. But before we do that, we want to thank each and every one of you that contributed to making this fest such a huge success, be it as a writer, podficcer, reader, listener, or reblogger and reccer. You wrote the most amazing fics, brought fics to life with your voice, and gave our creators lots of love with kudos, comments etc.  Fair warning: This post will be very long because we couldn’t control ourselves and made reveal banners. We would say we’re sorry, but we must not tell lies.

0430, T, 8.7k

Author: daughter_of_nemesis/@daughter-of-nemesis 

Harry disappears at exactly 04:30 in the morning. Hermione and Ron intend to figure out why. And Pansy's certain has something to do with Draco.

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A Hogwarts Detective Mystery, E, 19.3k

Author: ActorPotter/@actorpotter 

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his Eighth Year with Ron and Hermione after defending Draco Malfoy at his trial over the summer. Malfoy has returned too...but he's acting incredibly suspicious. So, naturally, Harry decides to stalk-er-follow him when he leaves the Eighth Year Common Room after hours one evening. It turns out that Malfoy has noticed something is amiss at Hogwarts, and he and Harry must work together to solve a mystery of disappearing portraits, randomly changing house colours on uniforms, and the Gryffindor Common Room suddenly appearing in the dungeons. What is happening to the castle? Will self-appointed detectives Harry and Draco discover what secrets are lying within the walls of Hogwarts...and their hearts?

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A House on Fire, E, 8.4k

Author: p1013/@p1013

For the last five years, Auror Draco Malfoy has walked into his office with hardly a glance at the illusioned window taking up the back wall. It looks out over an imagined London, a perfectly bright and brilliant view of the city that hides the smog and rain and dirt that clings to the city like a patina of time that can never be worn away. It's always a perfect summer's day with soft, white clouds that float through the painfully bright blue sky like a dream. He likes to imagine the gentle breeze that ripples the surface of the Thames brushing across his skin, since he'll never be able to actually feel it. After all, his office is located on the second floor and is, therefore, underground.

Or at least that's what he did before the seventh of October, 2009.

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A Little Bird Told Me, M, 18.6k

Author: Cibee/@cibeewastaken

Harry and his partner are called to investigate a murder that occurred at an exclusive getaway hosted by Muggle patrician Robert Morton in his own house. The surviving six people are now both witnesses and suspects. There is just one problem for Harry: Draco Malfoy is one of them.

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a meeting of minds, M, 8.2k

Author: saltwatergarden

When Harry Potter starts hearing someone else's thoughts for several minutes a day, at first he chalks it up to his own bad luck and he tries to ignore it. But the longer it goes on, the less Harry can ignore it. Whoever it is, the person whose thoughts he's hearing needs help. Harry finds himself indignant at the mistreatment of the man taking up space in his head, and feels a sense of closeness to him that he cannot explain.

How can he find out whose thoughts he's hearing? And what exactly will he do when he finds him?

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Cruel River, T, 67.7k 

Author: eleventy7/@tinyhistory

Draco inherits a castle deep in the Scottish highlands, and discovers it’s haunted by more than just ghosts.

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Dear Stranger, T, 22.7k

Author: iero0/@iero0

The one thing more pointless than falling in love with an anonymous wizard over a correspondence is falling in love with Harry Potter when you’re Draco Malfoy. 

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Draco Malfoy and the Case of the Smuggled Gossip, T, 6.9k

Author: A_Professional_Protagonist/@aprofessionalprotagonist

It's eighth year and someone is selling gossip about Harry Potter and his friends to the new trashy wizarding tabloid. Can Draco discover how the gossip is getting smuggled out of the castle? Will he and Harry grow closer in the process? Will there be kissing? (Spoilers: yes.)  

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For Now, 6.7k, T

Author: Samunderthelights/@samunderthelights

At first when Harry gets sent a mysterious notebook, he thinks it's a gift. But when he starts to write in it, he finds that someone can see what he writes, and the stranger is writing back to him.

Over time he finds himself opening up to the mysterious stranger, but how is he supposed to fully trust him if the stranger won't even tell him his name?

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He makes saints out of sinners, M, 32.8k

Author: miafancies/@miafancies

Harry grows with the turn of the tide. Draco contends with his ghosts.

This is a chronicle of inevitability.

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It might take an army, it might just be me, M, 15.5k

Author: slytherinnbitch/@slytherinnbitch

Five years after the war, Auror Potter goes out on a seemingly routine mission to check up on some pardoned criminals. He doesn’t come back. Immediate suspicions are cast on Draco Malfoy, one of the charges he was to be visiting. But unbeknownst to everyone, the two of them have been in a secret relationship for over six months, and Draco is beside himself with worry and so is Hermione and Ron. Together they try to get their best friend back. But there are surprises on their ways which none of them even expects of.

Can they get their best friend back or is he gone forever?

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Long story short, G, 4.6k

Author: time_streams/@time-streams

Someone's written about Harry's secret raspberry jam recipe. Also, they write fanfiction about him. Obviously, he using his investigative prowess to find them.

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Love's Sake, Evermore, E, 9.6k

Author: wanderingeyre

Someone is doing nice things for Draco and that someone seems to know an awful lot about his habits and favorite things. Draco can't imagine why anyone would do these things for him because he still thinks he has something to prove. Some days he thinks he’s going to spend his entire life spackling over the mistakes of his youth and the sins of his family.

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Memory Lane, T, 9.7k

Author: mortenavida/@mortenavida

Draco Malfoy has been happily living in the Muggle world for nearly a decade, far away from any Wizarding responsibilities they might try to enforce on him. He planned on leaving that world forever, save for making sure his son received a proper education, but things didn’t exactly go to plan. On his doorstep, one night, Harry Potter showed up. Except Harry Potter was supposed to be dead for the last seven years.

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Mine O'Clock, T, 1.2k

Author: PhenomenalAsterisk/@phenomenalasterisk 

Harry Potter is missing and Ron and Hermione are going spare.

How can Draco enjoy his lazy weekend with their nonsense cluttering up his front steps?

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[podfic] Potterotica, E, 20min

Podficcer: EvAEleanor/@eva-eleanore

original fic: Potterotica by Elle Gray/@diligent-thunder

The first story, and you could barely call it that, had appeared in the communal bathroom overnight. It was stuck to the mirror, one above each sink, like it was expected people might casually read it while brushing their teeth.

Except, there was nothing casual about reading explicit erotica in a communal bathroom while shoving a lubricated brush in and out of your mouth.Blaise had been the first to find it, or rather, to gleefully admit that he had. He’d burst into the common room in his pants to declare, 'There’s fucking porn in the bathroom!' Someone's writing smut and signing it with Harry's name. Hermione isn't buying it, and she has a plan to expose the true author. She also has her hand in her pants in a wardrobe.

A (ridiculous) response to AO3s (valid) new co-creator rules.

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Repairing his world, M, 34.8k

Author: AhaMarimbas/@mars-bar81

15 years after his father was arrested, Scorpius uncovers his case file at work. Desperate for answers on why his family was torn apart all those years ago, Scorpius looks into what happened. But is he ready for how the new evidence will change his life all over again?

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Reverie in Green, T, 51.7k

Author: dynazty/@dynazty

Draco just wants to get away; Harry just wants his dog back.

There's a small wooden bridge in the middle, somewhere, curved over a stream that never stops flowing. All they have to do is cross it.

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Secret Admirer, E, 12.3k

Author: Cassiopeias_shadow

Fresh out of training, Harry discovers that life as an Auror isn’t at all what he’d imagined - it’s much better actually, and there are stickers. As he settles into the team, a case lands quite literally on his doorstep... who keeps sending the Knight Bus to his house?

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Sleight of Hand, E, 15k

Author: TheStarryKnight/@the-starryknight

It’s another one of these horrid Ministry affairs, and the only interesting thing is twinkling from Draco Malfoy’s finger. Can you really blame Harry for being fascinated by the gorgeous emerald ring and those long, elegant hands, especially when he’s certain Malfoy is up to something?

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[podfic] The Lion, The Dragon, and the Broom Cupboard, E, 1h45min

Podficcer: laughingd0g/@jovialobservationanchor

original fic: The Lion, The Dragon, and the Broom Cupboard by tasteofshapes/@tasteofshapes

Draco thinks he’s hallucinating the first time when he opens the door to the office pantry and finds Potter there instead, looming out of the shadows of what appears to be a cupboard like some deformed gargoyle. Things don’t go much better after that.

Or, three broom cupboards, two times they get it on, and one love story.

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The Mysterious Case of the Missing Yoghurt, E, 24.5k

Author: manixzen/@manixzen

Newly-hired Flying Professor Harry Potter is happy to return to Hogwarts for a fresh start after several failed careers, but nothing is going as planned. His classes are a mess, he has to find a way to work with Draco Malfoy (annoying git extraordinaire) and now, in an act of villainy and depravity, someone keeps stealing his yoghurt.

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Through the Blur, E, 27.7k

Author: anachronic_mai/@danbrokethesoundbarrier

Sleep doesn't come easy to Harry. Despite taking regular doses of Dreamless Sleep for years, he hasn't managed to get rid of the nightmares. Things can't get any worse for him when Potions Master Draco Malfoy comes to him for help after mysterious attacks to his apothecary.

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[podfic] to heal a fracture (to bind a life), M, 33min

Podficcer: bluedreaming/@porcelainsalt

original fic: to heal a fracture (to bind a life) by glittering_git/ @glittering-git; meandminniemcg/@meandminniemcg

Who you gonna call? Harry has become one of the foremost Spiritual Exterminators in Britain. Draco has a spirit that needs extermination. But what seems like a simple problem ends up becoming far more complicated when the spirit is identified. The secrets that are exposed and the history that is uncovered leads both Harry and Draco into uncharted territory.

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To Live & Die in LA, E, 28.8k

Author: fwooshy/@fw00shy

Someone is blackmailing Pansy Parkinson. Pansy's father hires Harry Potter, P.I., to get to the bottom of the scam. But how is Harry's errant ex-boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, involved? And why did Draco run to Los Angeles in the first place?

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Two Hearts Divided, T, 18.6k

Author: iero0/@iero0​; Ladderofyears/@ladderofyears

Draco Malfoy, the celebrated Ghost Clearance Expert is in Germany, trying to solve the tricky little matter of a stubborn ghost called Clara von Kellern. Exasperated after trying every spell he knows, Draco sends an owl to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in London, requesting their urgent help.

Little does Draco know that the clerk who willingly grasps his letter is Harry Potter.

Injured in action, Harry enjoys a quiet, deskbound existence and sees Draco’s letters as a bit of excitement to brighten up his dull days. Harry has no idea that investigating Clara’s life, and that of her beau (and potential murderer) Ernst Wernet will lead to the beginnings of a love affair all of his own.

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Violent Delights, E, 20.4k

Author: primaveracerezos/@primavera-cerezos 

Draco Malfoy's life should be going very well. He's engaged to a wonderful man and in line for the Head Auror job. He's been made lead investigator on a serial murder case, trying to figure out who is killing off the scum of the wizarding world, one by one. So what if he's kind of miserable? Things always get better.

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Who Put Bella in the Wych Elm?, E, 15.4k

Author: alittlewicked/@undersummerstars 

As sad as it was for a family to come to this point: no one would put it past the others to be able to raise their hand and wand against a cousin, an aunt or even a son.

Merlin knows, it had been happening often enough in the House of Black.

So that left the attendees with one question.

Who put Bella in the Wych Elm?

*

Harry & Draco are Walburga Black's guests at Number 12 Grimmauld Place to find the one, true heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. What had the potential to go terribly wrong, went one step further and culminated in a dead body and twelve suspects.

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[murderbabies]

Listen I know people say Kaz loves dogs but may I just suggest - Kaz slowly earning the trust of a feral cat who is just as weary of people as he once was:

(inspired by my own experience with a feral cat - with a little Kanej thrown in there because who do you think i am - and dedicated to my lovely murder wife @vampirewifee)

Kaz would often leave scraps out on the windowsill for the crows, but also as a sort of security system to make sure no one had tried to come in to his office (other than Inej of course)

But one day the window's left open while he steps out of his office for a minute and, when he comes back, he notices that two of the sausages have mysteriously gone missing from his plate by the windowsill.

The next day he leaves out a slice of chicken liver on the windowsill. Two hours later, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a black shadow race across the window. By the time he's made his way across the room, the figure, and the liver, is gone.

He thinks about bringing it up to Inej but instead decides to take on this little investigation himself. He will not be outbested by a simple chicken thief, and really what's another mystery to solve?

Three days later he sees it. A black cat, tail missing, left ear half bitten off from a scrap years ago, slowly making its way across the neighbouring roof. The second he makes eye contact with it, it raises its hackles and hisses at him.

"Nothing to fear little mutt. Want some turkey?" Kaz whispers, slowly reaching for his half eaten sandwich. But before he can make it to his desk the cat's disappeared. Kaz chuckles to himself. He knows all about his companions pulling off disappearing acts.

For the next week he keeps a small bag of cat treats in the pocket of his waistcoat. The local stray cats have started following him around. All but one specific midnight feral cat.

The only sign that he hadn't imagined the whole thing is the fact that the slice of tenderloin he leaves out every night (which he personally collects from the butchers every evening), is gone by the time he walks past the window on the way to get his third (or maybe fourth) mug of coffee for the night.

A fortnight later the offerings of the butcher's finest have increased to twice a day. Sometimes, if he's lucky, he'll catch a glimpse of the cursed thing. But only when the window's shut does it actually stay long enough for him to see, yellow eyes locked on his own. Daring him to come closer.

But Kaz only takes this a challenge. And by Ghezen does he love a challenge.

Finally, after two laborious months of sitting silently at the window, barely twitching a muscle, can he finally sit within reaching distance of the mangy thing without being hissed at. And yet he still makes no attempt to pet it. Not yet.

The Dregs have begun to notice the black cat slinking around the Slat windows. They toss it their lunch scraps, but none of them dare get any closer. Not after Rotty chanced it that one time and had to get 13 stitches on his palm. He was lucky not to lose his index finger.

One night, after a particularly rough mission that almost cost Kaz months of planning, he hears a scratching at the window.

Slowly he opens up to find the blasted cat. It hesitantly makes its way onto the bench right by the window. Still hissing. Its hind leg held up, clearly injured.

Kaz calls out to Anika to fetch for a medik. But as soon as she reaches the door of the office, the stupid cat bolts back out the window, still injured, into the night.

Kaz had almost resigned himself to never seeing the cursed thing again after Anika's stunt but lo and behold, three days later it makes a reappearance. The injured leg is in much worse shape and, despite the years spent on the streets in the Barrel, Kaz can't help but feel his throat tighten at what's been done to this creature.

Pushing away his thoughts he springs into action - shutting the window closed to prevent the thing from pulling another runner. By some miracle sent from one of Inej's Saints Kaz manages to hold the creature long enough, yowling the whole time but not fighting back, for the medik to come.

At first the cat refuses to be tended to by the medik, hissing and scratching, until Kaz plants himself right beside it, whispering soothingly. Not knowing what to say exactly, Kaz opts to give an account of the Merchant Council's tradings in the last quarter. But it seems to work nevertheless and the beast stills.

Several long hours, a hoarse throat, and a nearly blinded eye on the medik's part later, the broken leg is finally treated and bandaged up. Inej speaks to the medik outside while Kaz treats the cat with little bites from the pound of turkey breast he had Pim fetch from the butcher's. She's told that the cat will recover just fine but that the delay in getting treated means that the leg didn't set quite right. "It seems we've got a mini Kaz on our hands now," Inej smiles to herself as she recounts the news to Kaz. Kaz is just glad the cat was saved, although he'd never admit it aloud.

As it recovers, the cat becomes a common presence around the Slat, although it still hesitantly sticks to the shadowed doorways and hisses at anyone but Kaz. Sometimes even Kaz.

Inej grumbles about Kaz being the only one the thing doesn't hiss at. "Jealous Wraith?" Kaz laughs, eyes twinkling.

The ebony cat often sits precariously on the cabinet by the window, but it still gets skittery when the window's closed at times. Kaz chuckles to himself about it. "I know someone else with a penchant for quick rooftop escapes".

But ever so slowly, it begins to get comfortable around Inej. The first time Inej climbed in through the window while the cat was inside the closed office, it went crazy - its only exit route blocked with no way out. But eventually it grows accustomed to Inej's presence at the window. The catnip Inej always has on hand definitely helps.

One evening though, as the sun's almost completely dipped beneath the harbour, Inej begins to hear a low rumble. Her eyes snap to Kaz and his eyes are just as wide as hers. He hears it too. An unmistakable purr coming from the cat perched on the window across from Inej. Eyes closed, face turned towards the last warm streaks of disappearing light.

It's months later and the cat has become Kaz's second shadow (or third, depending on who you're talking to). He refuses to give it a name, referring to it exclusively as "Cat", "Chicken Thief", "Mangy Thing" and a slew of other apathetic descriptors. But Inej isn't at all fooled by Kaz's air of disdain - not when she's seen the portion of funds he spends on the best cuts of meat every month. She's even caught him cooing at the thing in the dead of night a couple times.

One day Inej grows tired of the odour emanating off the once feral cat and decides to haul both it and Kaz (who are both inexplicably hissing) into the bathroom to get them both cleaned up, because in Inej's words, "If you won't rest like a functioning human, the least you can do is smell like one".

However the only time Kaz actually sleeps is when the cat is sitting on his lap. Despite the museum blueprint he's been working on for three days straight, the purring lulls him into a quiet sleep and he wakes up feeling better rested than he has in years. It eventually becomes a habit and Kaz cannot drift off without that familiar weight on his chest rumbling quietly.

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

You already know how this one ends

Mob! Mikey x gender neutral reader

Warnings: Murder-spoken about in detail, alcohol mentions. Summery: It’s been such a lovely evening, your boyfriend has taken you out to the movies and dinner and now you’re having a lovely starlit stroll around the park. How could anything be better?

(Authors note: This is a very dark fic, like very dark. It involves a detailed description of someone dying, please read at your own discretion.)

The breeze is cool as you walk arm in arm with Mikey around the park. It had rained earlier, while you were at dinner, and now the damp air is filled with the scent of freshly cut grass and wet concrete but, it wasn’t unpleasant. Looking around, the trees danced in the slight wind and stars could be seen between the few clouds that loomed over you, casting shadows from the almost full moon. It was quiet and serene, just you and him. You hugged your coat a little bit tighter. It was a beautiful one, not cheap either, that he had bought for you; made of alpaca wool, a caramel sort of brown and fluffy. It went down to almost your knees and you loved it very dearly. You called it your ‘teddy bear coat’.

He, Mikey, had taken you to see a movie and then out for dinner at the most lavish place you could imagine. “It’s a special evening” he’d told you but never given you a reason as to why. Now you were walking through a park only a few blocks away from the restaurant and he was pointing out constellations. It was marvellous when he was like this, attentive and sweet and lucid. He had a bad habit of getting locked up inside his own head and becoming distant and irrational. That warm feeling comes over you like a tide in how quickly it rises but less forceful, like air in how it fills you but more tangible. You love him and he loves you, he’s told you hundreds of times before. Maybe he’ll forgive you.

You have a secret, you’re not actually a part time pre-school teacher but, in fact, a detective in the NYPD and you’d been sent to observe him, find out everything you could. It had been thrilling at first, but as it always seems to happen in the movies, you fell for him and fell hard. He kept you out of business, said it was too “unsavoury” for a delicate thing such as yourself so you hadn’t really learned much about it. Of course you tried but, any questions were expertly side stepped or ignored all together. You had, however, spent a lot of time with him- retreats to the country side, trips to Paris or Italy, nights at the theatre and stunning parties at houses bigger than you could ever dream to afford. You had also spent many nights in his bed with him. You had no significant other to return home to so on that first night, the first time it had happened, when he took you in his arms for a passionate kiss and lead you by the hand to his bedroom, you had no objections. He was an excellent lover and you don’t regret a single moment you spent with him. 

Tonight was the night, however, that you had to come clean.

Mikey dropped your arm for a moment to reach into his pocket and pull out a flask and raise it to his lips to take a long swig of what you assumed was whiskey. He edged the flask in your direction as an indication that you should do the same. Your fingers brushed his as you took it from his grasp and the cool liquid stung as it travelled down your throat to heat your belly. You would need all the courage you could muster and liquid courage is as good as any. Handing the leather bound container back to him, he placed it securely in his breast pocket. You sighed. Would it still be like this after he knew the truth?

“And that one’s Orion’s belt. Good story that” he continued.

It had only just occurred to you that he’s been talking for a while now, you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to listen.

“I haven’t heard that one, tell it to me” you said, now returned to reality and interested in the tale. He was always a good story teller.

“Well Orion was boasting one day to the goddess Artemis, she’s the god of the hunt, you know, and her mother Leto that he could kill any beast on this earth. “Bring it before me and I will lay it down!” he’d said. Very full of himself that guy. I suppose all the gods were, even though he was only like 3/4 god I suppose. So anyway, the earth goddess overheard and devised a plan. a test of sorts. She sent a scorpion to him and the scorpion stung him on the ankle and he died. That’s only one of the stories of it though. Everyone argues about how it actually happened- if he was saving Leto from the scorpion or trying to force himself on Artemis and she sent the little critter. Either way it doesn’t really matter, the outcome is the same. He gets stung and-”

“I need to tell you something!” You weren’t sure where it came from but the words erupted out of you. You couldn’t wait any longer.

“what is it? There’s nothing I don’t already know about you” he stopped walking now and turned to you, putting his hands on your shoulders as if you steady you. You had seemed quite distressed to burst out like that.

“I- well its....Look I love you. I really do” you began

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.“ he laughed. His smile put you at ease. Those perfect teeth and plump lips curving into a half moon shape towards his eyes- eyes that you could get lost in and often did. 

“Hey, just listen. You know I told you that I’m a part time teacher over at saint Johns? Well, that’s not exactly the truth. I’m. Well...”

“you’re a cop” He added

“Exactly! And I’d wanted to tell-. Wait. How did you know that?” you were taken aback. How could he have known? How long had he known? As if he had read your mind, he answered.

“I found out yesterday, talked to my brothers about it.” his voice was lower now, more sombre as if it brought him great sadness to even think about it.

“Where does that leave us?” you asked

There was a long pause, he didn’t look at you but instead behind your right shoulder, staring off into the distance. He seemed quite pensive. Another breeze rolled though the air making you shiver and a bird called out in a far off tree. You were suddenly all too aware that no one was around. It had occurred to you before, made the evening seem more romantic but, now that this information was out in the open it scared you a little. You could see the handle to Mikey’s gun peering out of the holster beneath his blazer. After what felt like minutes of silence, he finally spoke again.

“You already know how this ends” His tone was dire and it sent a chill through you.

Before you could respond and ask what the hell that even meant, a leg, Mikey’s leg, sweeps underneath you- knocking you to the ground. The force of your impact sends a huff of air out of you and the ground is cold and still wet from the earlier rain beneath your form. Before you have time to register what’s going on, he’s on top you you.

His hands go to your throat and tighten dramatically. Surely you think surely this isn’t really happening? He loves me, I know he does. This isn’t really happening. This thought it short lived, however, as your vision is already beginning to dot and you can feel your face reddening and growing hot from the lack of blood and oxygen. His face is contorted above you into a pitiful look and you feel something drip onto your face. Is he crying? You try your best to take a better look and it sent a second chill through you. He’s crying because he has to kill you. 

It may seem daft, lying on your back in an empty park with your lovers hands strangling you and it only just occurred to you, now, that you’re going to die, but everything had happened so quickly and you still loved him, even with his hands around your neck, so much that you didn’t immediately think of that. This sparks something wild in you. Your own hands go to his face, slapping and clawing at him as best you can with limited air and in this position- doing anything you can for another sweet, sweet breath of air. It’s all to no avail, spots are becoming bigger and more frequent in your vision, your arms are tired and your lungs burn from the deprivation of oxygen. Within a minute or so they fall to your sides, slapping his thighs on the way down and you look up at him one final time. 

“I’m sorry” you manage to strain and gargle out. Had you know this would be the last thing you’d say to him, or ever, you might have picked something better. Nonetheless, this was fitting. You were sorry. Sorry for lying, sorry for agreeing to the job and sorry for ever moving to New York in the first place. Somewhere in the back of your mind the image of a scorpion climbing onto a frogs back appears- an old fable your mother used to tell you before bed. They’re half way across the river when it stings and the water is dark and angry as they both get pulled under. “It is in my nature” was the scorpion’s response. This is how you felt about Mikey., you could not hate him for it, as much as that would be the easiest emotion to conjure up, as he was simply doing what he knows. What he does best. What’s in his nature.

Your vision slowly begins to vignette until only a pinprick of sight is left. He is still crying, still straining to choke the life from you as quickly as possible- you suppose that’s the only mercy he can give you right now. A quick death. With all that’s left of your vision, you look up. The stars are still beaming up above you and Orion’s belt is shining in all it’s glory. Of all the things you could notice right now, the stars were probably the best one. You blink slowly, a small wheezing sound escapes your lips and before you can think of anything else, the world goes dark.

________________

He stays like that for a few minutes after your eyes close, making sure every last string of life has been well and truly drained from you. He’s still crying as he does it. Eventually he will raise himself up, wipe the tears from his face and take a quick look around. The park is still empty, still dark and for the first time this evening he is alone. It does not feel good. He looks down at his hands. Hands that were toughed by work and age, hands that had done unspeakable things that he couldn’t admit to himself let alone to you.

Slowly he will walk home, close the front door behind him and lock it. “Is it done?” His brother will say to him, he forgets which one. “Yes” he will reply. They will say something else, but he isn’t listening. That night he will drink himself stupid, until there are no more thoughts of hands and throats and eyes looking into his that are lit up by the stars above. It’ll become a fever dream and nothing more.

Tomorrow a paper will be placed in front of him, the headline will say something about a dead NYPD officer. He will not read it.

The End.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if Bella and Renata changed places in the story? What would change?

... You sure you want me to answer that?

This, my friend, is the path to the heart of darkness.

First, for my sanity’s sake, when you say switch places I’m assuming that things like genetics/gifts are staying intact.

This is a meta to be written, but at least on some level, while gifts are informed by genetics they also are informed by what you need. Jane and Alec point to this as well as surviving vampires whose gifts were curiously helpful. Of course, there’s something to be said that perhaps this is survivor bias. The ones with helpful gifts survive because Afton was murdered. And there’s something to be said for that, and I do think that comes into play, but in a different meta.

RIGHT

What Happens to Bella

Bella is molested if not raped by her Uncle Luca.

Bella is groomed from... some point that’s worryingly early in her life, to be turned into a vampire when she’s an adult. Given Renata’s story and her gift, given Makenna’s centuries later, it’s highly likely that Uncle Luca rather than making a fellow “protector” of the family is taking tithes in the form of daughters to become his brides for a time.

And when I say highly likely I mean I can think of no other explanation where everything in the backstory lines up so neatly.

Renata’s saved from rape and molestation thanks to her gift. Bella’s gift is extremely powerful and versatile as well, however, while it does change to suit her needs it seems to rely heavily on precognition and mental protection. In canon, having Renata’s abilities would have made Bella untouchable by James, Victoria, and Laurent. Instead, she gets warnings through Hallucination Edward and precognitive dreams or else is able to shield herself entirely mentally.

As a result, I imagine Bella would have terrifying prophetic dreams growing up, in which Uncle Luca, the patron saint of the family that no one has ever seen, turns out to be a flesh eating demon who rapes her. She might even have a Hallucination Edward equivalent who tells her to GET THE FUCK OUT.

Bella is reassured by her entire family that everything is fine, Luca’s the family protector and certainly not a demon, and that Bella joining him when she turns 20 will be a wonderful thing.

As a result, Bella probably grows up a neurotic mess, probably just as isolated if not more so than she was in canon.

And then it’s too late.

As Luca’s pulling the same stunt he did in canon, I imagine the Volturi eventually show up. Bella is offered the same out she was in canon and, like Renata, I imagine she takes it desperately.

Only, given everything, she likely doesn’t have the same attachment to the family that Renata did. I imagine as a survivor of sexual assault who was sold off by her family, however unwillingly they did so or however much they were hoodwinked, that she wouldn’t know what to think of them. Not for a very long time, anyway. So, I imagine in this universe, Uncle Luca and all the humans who knew of him die. 

Renata not existing, Bella is taken on as a bodyguard, and is a pretty good deal. She’s not Renata, who is the best bodyguard anyone could wish for, but she shields well from mental attacks and they can have someone like Felix be the muscle where appropriate. In this world, Aro probably actually would have some eventual use for Alice, as she could support Bella in predicting any direct attacks on at least the Volturi coven (Aro, Caius, Marcus, and the wives).

Bella is a mess for a very very very long time. While I like to think eventually she’ll recover, I can’t tell you what this would be. I think Bella would be extremely hesitant to ever take a lover or get married, and would instead devote herself to Aro’s protection with at least Renata’s zeal if not more so.

What Happens to Renata

For the sake of my sanity, to truly put Renata in Bella’s place, I’m imagining she’s Edward’s singer. You’re not living the Bella experience if you don’t have to deal with Edward.

Renata, in 2005 for reasons unknown, moves to Forks to live with her estranged father Charlie. 

Renata attends Biology that first day of school where she’s very nearly eaten by Edward. Only, instead of Edward not being able to read her mind, he finds himself unable to get close to her. He can’t sit at her table, her gift sends him wandering in a drunken daze across the room and into the wall.

Edward is very confused, utterly humiliated, but he has no idea what’s happened. Part of Renata’s gift is that you don’t realize you’ve been deflected. You just suddenly find yourself not having approached Renata like you expected.

Edward probably tries to return to his seat, holding his breath, and thinking of Carlisle’s beautiful face (he seriously does this in canon). However, he’s unable to that time either, and this time Renata probably pushes him out of the room entirely.

Edward congratulates himself for unconsciously resisting temptation in the classroom (which would have been very bad and required his brutal murder of all the witnesses).

He’ll eat her after school.

Much like canon, Edward upon leaving school is probably able to clear his head enough to realize he does not have to eat Renata Swan. So he flees the state, lives with the Denali for the two days it takes to get sick of them, and comes back.

And here’s where things get... bad.

Presumably, Renata does not struggle with depression the way Bella does. Terrible things happened to her in canon, and it’s true we know very little about her, but for all she shadows Aro she doesn’t seem to give off those same depressed vibes Bella does.

Renata also, presumably, does not have the weird genetic quirk Bella does where she finds vampires a) not terrifying at all b) omg hawt.

Most people in canon, when they look at a vampire, see something that’s hauntingly beautiful but also wrong. Vampires are fucking scary looking. Even at their gentlest, they do not look right. Bella’s just... into that.

So, unlike canon, the second Biology class Renata looks at Edward in complete terror and Edward can read every thought through Renata’s mind that he tried to eat her. Edward has a complete existential crisis over this as Renata was witness to his most demonic side that he loathes.

Edward will never be with Renata the way he was with Bella because of this. Part of what appeals to him about Bella is that he can a) project a persona of his choosing onto her while thinking he knows her well b) she’s this angelic creature who sees the best in demons. Renata sees demons and sees demons.

Biology is awkward and terrible, Renata probably desperately thinks about switching seats, but doesn’t want anyone to sit next to Edward the demon. 

Then the truck happens.

Much like Bella, Edward saves Renata’s life (and I headcanon that Renata’s gift actually allows for this due to the imminent danger coming from a truck rather than a person). Only, this time, there’s no excuse that he was secretly doing it for love, he’s doing it for that sweet sweet blood.

Renata is taken to the hospital, she’s seen everything, and Edward can see every thought in her head where she absolutely knows Edward Cullen is not a human being.

The family has their vote, only this time, it goes differently.

Renata would never let Alice play Barbie Bella, and thus, Alice does not see Renata as her future best friend forever. Nor does she see Renata becoming Edward’s future lover and mate.

However, Alice still votes no, because it’s not going to work. None of them are going to be able to murder Renata.

Edward is conflicted and votes no, but doesn’t have the reassurance that it’s because he’s in love, it’s secretly because he wants to eat her. He’s not admitting that to himself yet.

As in canon, Carlisle tries to think well of his ridiculous family, and tells Rosalie, “No, Rosalie, killing a teenage girl because you don’t want to move high schools is bad.”

Jasper thinks carefully about this, and tries to devise different schemes to kill Renata and gauge Alice’s opinion. Unlike in canon, he’s not given the two certain futures: Edward will eat Bella or Edward will turn Bella.

Jasper eventually decides to lace Renata’s house with explosives and, when she’s home (preferably if she’s alone but he’s alright with Charlie Swan as collateral damage) blow the place up from a distance.

Alice saw this succeeding, unfortunately, Edward and Emmett make a few decisions.

Jasper is blowing up a motherfucking house. The police chief’s house no less. This is the coolest thing the family has ever done. That Rosalie approves, while not saying as much out loud due to her abiding by Carlisle’s decision, makes this even better. Emmett wants involved, desperately, Jasper gives him some small task that he fucks up.

The wiring is done incorrectly, the bomb will never detonate.

Edward is now in full protector of the women and children (and blood bags) mode and plans to counter Jasper’s attack and confronts him and Emmett. They have the all out brawl that Alice saw in canon.

Renata wakes up in the middle of the night to find the family of demons fist fighting each other outside her house, having wired her house to explode. They have now gone past the point of no return, in a sense, where in canon Bella had had a car accident and would in time remember this as a very strange incident in her life, now the vampires have tried to blow up her house.

I imagine things continue to escalate as the witness now really has to be murdered. They fail every time, Renata lives in a paranoid hell where she can’t tell anyone that every night demons come to murder her in her bedroom.

Carlisle is appalled by everyone and eventually tells Renata the truth and offers her immortality.

[believinghurts]

Request For Bill Weasley

Requested: Yes ( @marvelettesassemble ) I hope you like it!

Warnings: Crying?, Slight Violence

Info: Reader comforts Bill after the attack from Greyback. 

If you have a request please send it in. Feedback is always welcomed. 

Should there be a part two? Let me know! 

Scars 

It all happened so quickly. The blink of an eye. One minute you were sitting with Nymphadora and Remus, the next a Patronus was sent in staying that Death Eaters were at Hogwarts. The battle raged on in the upper levels of the school between Order members, some students, and Deatheaters. Hermione and Luna had left to find Flitwick and Snape which left Ginny, Nyphmadora, yourself and Bill to fight Alecto, Rowle, and Greyback. Should have been easier for the four of you, right? Four against three, odds are in your favor till they weren’t. You had been trying to help the three of your friends bouncing between casting spells to aid all of them until Alecto sent two spells quickly towards Ginny who was losing her shields quickly. Bill caught your eye as you were sending a stun spell towards Greyback. 

“Go! Help her!” He yelled out towards you. With one last reluctant look towards him you sprinted towards Ginny while trying to dodge the few rouge spells that were flying around the tower. You sent Petrificus Totalus towards Alecto’s back. He ducks last minute narrowly missing the spell. You see him look over your shoulder with a wicked grin on his face, and the sounds that follow you are sure are going to haunt you for the rest of your days. Greyback, and Alecto leave down the stairs as someone calls for them to go. With a wave they disappear from view as you feel Ginny collapse into your side screaming for her brother. The sight before you send cold running down your spine that you will feel for days. 

Bill lying lifeless on the floor, his face covered in blood and cuts. His shirt ripped from claw marks. And you know. You know that Greyback attacked him. You’re best friends, you’re beautiful best friends that you have loved since Charlie introduced you in third year. You run towards him as Dora makes sure Rowle is completely stunned. Your knees hit the floor with a loud thump as you press two fingers to his pulse point. Breathing out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when you feel the heartbeat. You turn your head to lock eyes with Dora as she holds Ginny on the rumble covered floor. “He’s alive.” 

The next chunk of time is lost on you as you try to hold the blood into Bill’s body. Ginny sat beside you holding Bill’s hand, tears dripping down her cheeks. You know she is blaming herself just as you are blaming yourself. Dora left to get Remus and Madam Pomfrey. It seems as though hours have passed before they return. Pomfrey takes over the wounds you were holding, as Remus gently removes Ginny from her brother and into your arms. You stroke her hair, holding her tight. Ron and Herimoine come up just as Madam Pomfrey explains that he needs to go to Saint Mungos for treatment. Ron silently cries at the sight of his beaten older brother. You all walk towards the apparition point together with Bill floating behind you. Ginny has yet to let go of your arm. You reach the apparition point when Ron and Herimone state that they can’t go with you due to having to help Harry. Remus tells them that he will let them know when we have news. Ginny refuses to leave, stating she will be going with you. 

When you all arrive at St. Mangos, they are ready for him. Taking his straight back as a nurse hands Dora a few forms to fill out. Remus leaves to get Molly, and Arthur. Ginny seems to be coming back to her senses slightly, she shifts so you can wrap your arm around her. You had always been close to her. Not having any siblings of your own, and her only having brothers meant you were a big sister. Molly came into the waiting room with tears running down her face quickly followed by her husband, Fred, and George. Ginny dove straight into her father's arms, crying softly again. Molly wrapped you in a hug as you cried for the first time. She whispered sweet things in your ear before pushing you back enough to cup your face. “What happened?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and began explaining the best you could as to what happened. At the end of your story sobs had taken you over as you apologize for leaving his side, stating that it was all your fault. You left him and now there was a chance he was going to become a werewolf. You ruined his life. If only you had taken over the fight, and let him go and Ginny instead of you. Then we wouldn’t be here. His family wouldn’t be worried out of their minds as to what was to come. He didn’t deserve this. Remus had come to explain a few things to Molly and Arthur, so George pulled you down to sit on his other side. As if sensing your thoughts he said, “This isn’t your fault. Just like Mum told you. This is Greyback’s fault. You saved Gin, you couldn’t be in two places at the same time. He told you to go. Don’t blame yourself. He’ll be fine, Dragon.” 

His words didn’t fully help you understand that it wasn’t your fault, but you did understand that you really couldn’t have helped both. The next couple of hours went by slowly. Molly took you, and Ginny, to get cleaned up in one of the restrooms. Fleur arrived with her parents, but stayed away from the whole family. George became a pillow to you as Fred did the same for Ginny. Remus had left with Dora for a meeting at Headquarters. When the doctor came out he took Molly and Arthur into a room away from everyone else. It was completely silent till Fleur's mother broke it. 

“What happened?” She all but sneered at the four of you. “I mean I understand that it was a werewolf who attacked, but how did this happen?” 

You opened your mouth to explain what had transpired, but Fred beat you to it. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. It did. Now we deal with the after effects.” 

You had never heard Fred talk with a tone like that before. Everyone knew that Fleur and her family didn’t really get along well with the Weasley family and vice versa. You personally had no problems with her if you didn’t count the rude looks she would give you when you spent time with Bill or when Molly called you her daughter. You had known the Weasley since you were twelve when Charlie asked to bring you home for christmas since you family wasn’t going to be home. You had watched Ginny and Ron grow up, and had a very close bond with the people who you called your family. You had tried to distance yourself from Bill to give him some more time with Fleur since you knew she didn’t like you. That only resulted in a scolding from Molly, a strongly worded letter from Charlie about how he didn’t care if Fleur was Merlin that you, him and Bill had always been incredibly close, and he wasn’t going to let her ruin that just because he wasn’t there, and a incredibly long apology from Bill who apologize for any and everything he possibly could have done wrong. 

The Delocur’s turned their nose up at Fred’s response, and you were positive that Fleur's Mum would have said something else if Molly had not come to retrieve her children so they could see their brother. You remained seated as they disappeared around the corner until Fred came and grabbed your hand stating that Molly meant all her children which earned you yet another glare from Fleur. That was the one thing that you didn’t understand about FLeur. She was Bill’s girlfriend, yet at the time when he needed her most it seemed like her only concern was that you were getting to go back with the rest of the family. But she didn’t even protest. Molly would have let her come had she asked, that was something that you knew for sure. Molly was too kind hearted towards everyone even if she particularly didn’t like you very well. It was just her motherly nature. 

Your heart shattered when you entered the room. Molly was weeping in her husband's arms at the sight of her eldest being so injured. Ginny was holding her eldest brother's hand while George and Fred looked at Bill with broken eyes, but this wasn’t the thing that hurt the most. It was Bill’s face. Scar was running down the length of his left cheek. They were red and puffed up due to them being so fresh. This was something that your best friend was going to  have to deal with for the rest of his life. Bill was in no way vain, except maybe when it came to his hair, but this was not going to be an easy road. You knew from Dora how Remus felt about his scars and were positive that this is how Bill was going to feel as well. Determination set in your mind as you thought of ways to prove to Bill that he was still beautiful even with the scars. You knew that Charlie was also going to be playing a part in this as well. Charlie had plenty of scars from his dragon obsession, but he seemed to have no problem with them often stating that they made him look more “badarse”. 

You took the seat beside Ginny, leaning your head onto her shoulder. None of you spoke for a while all content with watching Bill’s breathing. After about an hour or so Molly stated that Ginny needed to get back to Hogwarts, and Fred and George needed to return to the Burrow as they were falling asleep while leaning against the wall. 

“I’ll stay with him.” Arthur told his wife. “You take the kids back to the Burrow and Gin back to Hogwarts.” 

“I’ll stay. You can go home, Arthur, if you want. I know you had work today, and tomorrow if you’re going in. He’s stable and we are just waiting for him to wake if you want to go home with Molly.” You said quietly. 

“Let (Y/n) stay dear. She’s right. And I’m sure Bill would rather see her pretty face then yours when he wakes anyway.” Molly’s statement made you blush furiously, but Arthur agreed, telling you to contact them if anything changed. After hugs and goodnight where given, you were left alone. You pulled the chair closer to Bill’s bed, holding his hand in yours. The doctors came and told everyone earlier that they had given him the Draught of Peace potion and that he would probably be asleep for a while. You rested your head on the edge of the bed near Bill’s arm. A small smile made its way onto your face when you saw that he was still wearing the braided friendship bracelet you made with Ginny on your third summer at the Burrow. It was one of your fondest memories. You and Ginny had spent hours under the large tree in the backyard making everyone in her family a friendship bracelet. You still had the one that she had made you and you wore it religiously around your ankle. The last thing you saw before sleep over took you was the intertwined fingers of yours and Bill’s hand. 

**********

The feeling of being watched was what woke you. A groan escaped your mouth as you slowly woke up. Something squeezed your hand. Wait not something, someone. You shot up like a rocket when you realized what was going on around you. Bill was watching you, laughing softly at the look of surprise on your face. 

“Bill! You’re awake! How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need anyth-” You started rushing questions out as fast as lightning. 

“Woah there, Dragon.” He winced a little at the pull of the scar on his face. “I’m fine. A little pain, but not bad.” 

Tears sprung in your eyes again. He was fine. He was okay. He was alive. Bill tugged at your hand getting you to sit on the bed so he could hug you. He was comforting you when he was the one laying in the hospital bed. You wrapped your arms gently around the one that he had wrapped around your stomach. Laying your head on his shoulder you cried some more. You cried from relief that he truly was okay. You cried from the fact that it happened in the first place, and that no matter what anyone told you it was your fault. You weren’t sure how long you laid there, but the sound of feet in the doorway made you look up. 

Fleur was standing at the threshold staring at Bill. Just staring, like she had never seen him before. You sat up and removed yourself from the bed. “I’ll give you two some time. I need to owl your parents anyway.” 

Bill looked at you with furrowed brows. Just by the look you could tell that he didn’t understand why his girlfriend of almost a year was looking at him like he grew a second head. But you knew. You knew it was because of the scars that littered his handsome face, obstructing the freckle constellations. To you it didn’t matter that he had those scars. They made him look tougher, more handsome. They didn’t change who he was as a person. He was still going to be the same incredibly caring, kind, adventurous, loving man that you had known for years which was why you didn’t say nor act any different. You could only hope that Fleur felt the same. You gave Bill a small smile before walking past Fleur. Your eyes met for a brief moment, and your heart sunk at the thought that the look of disgust was directed at Bill this time and not you. 

***********

You managed to keep busy enough for an hour so that Bill and Fleur could get some privacy. There was no way in Hell that you were leaving even if Fleur decided to stay with Bill. You had promised Molly and Arthur that you would stay and you were going to. Walking back down to Bill’s room you noticed that the Delocur’s were no longer in the waiting room. Maybe they left when Fleur went back or maybe they were with her. You smiled at the nurses who looked like they could use a break, noticing that when you got outside of Bill’s room the door was open and it was completely silent in there.

 “Bill?” You knocked before entering just in case Fleur was in there, but she wasn’t, and neither was Bill. The adjoining bathroom door was shut signaling that someone was in there, you hoped and prayed that it wasn’t Fleur and Bill having one of their “moments”. You had heard and seen a few too many of those. When the sound you heard emitting from the room was sniffling followed by a soft sob you immediately jiggle the handle. “Bill? Open up. It’s (Y/N).”

“No. Go away, you won’t want to see me anyway.” Bill’s muffled voice came through the door. 

“Won’t want to see you? Of course, I do. You have till the count of three before I open the door whether you are decent or not.” When you didn’t get a response you began to count. “One…….Two………...Three. Alohomora.” 

The door unlocked with a click. You opened the door to find Bill sitting on the floor with tears running down his face looking into a small handheld mirror. His eyes were red and puffy making you wonder how long he had been crying. He looked up at you with a look that made a lump form in your throat and your own tears spring in your eyes. You sat down beside him and pulled him to yourself. His head buried itself in between your shoulder and neck. His tears soaked into your shirt forming a small wet patch. You stroked his hair pulling him impossibly close. 

 “Oh, Billie.” You whispered. “What happened? Where’s Fleur?” 

Another sob wrecked his body, and it took a couple of minutes before he could answer. “S-she l-l-left me……” White, hot fury took over your body. How dare she? At a time when he needed all the support he could get right now, and she left. “Said-said that sh-she couldn’t b-be with some-someone wh-who was covered in sc-scars.” 

You squeezed him just a little bit tighter. Thoughts of ruining that stupid Veela’s face flashed in your mind. She was so inconsiderate. She just left when her boyfriend needed her. Molly was going to throw a fit. She never liked Fleur and now you understood why. All that girl cared about was looks, not about what was on the inside. The sounds of sniffles pulled from your violent thoughts. Bill had gotten rid of any space left between and his breathing seemed more labored then before. You gently pushed him back to see his face, cupping it in one hand you grabbed his other and placed it above your heart so he could feel the beat. “You gotta breathe, Billie. Feel my heart, yeah? Listen to my breathing. In and out. In and out.” 

He started following you breathing. He squeezed your thigh gently letting you know that it was working. You rubbed your thumb against his cheek, wiping the tears that were there. “I need you to listen to me, okay? Squeeze my leg if you’re listening.” 

Once you got his squeeze you started, “I know that you are hurt right now. I know, I get it. But I need you to remember that if Fleur doesn’t want you because you have those three little scars on your face she never deserved you at all. You were handsome before and you are handsome now. Do you wanna know why? Because it is not what defines us on the outside, but the inside. And I have known you for years now and I can tell you without a doubt you are the most beautiful person in and out. You’re so caring towards everyone, not just your friends and family. You are incredibly clever, Hell you're a curse breaker for crying out loud. You alway help anyone you see struggling. You take amazing care of your siblings. And most importantly you love without reserve. And I know this because you are my best friend, and my favorite Weasley, just don't tell Charlie that.” 

By the time you got through your little speech a small smile had etched itself onto his face. You smiled back and placed a small kiss on his now scarred cheek. 

“Thank you.” He whispered into your hair. 

“Don’t thank me for telling the truth. She doesn’t deserve you, Billie. These scars don’t change who you are, nothing ever will.”  

[fallen029]

Nervous

"Are you nervous?"

"No."

"You sure?"

Mira tilted her head to the side though her eyes betrayed the cute, quirky questioning vibe she was going for as they, instead, seemed rather disbelieving. It was easy for Laxus to note it these days, having fallen like most other in the hall for her typical chaste trickiness and innocuous pretenses over the years, but after being far more than just a guild member to her now for a good number of them as well, he'd begun to pick up on the little things.

Like how she seemed forever trapped in a guilelessness that didn't quite entrap her as well as she thought it did.

But this was fine, the ease at which he disarmed her now, as Mira was able to pick apart the man's own fallacies and walls.

"Yeah," he grumbled to the woman's question, but she only grinned at him, as if victorious, as she picked apart his lies with ease.

"Then why are you biting at your nails?" she asked with round eyes. "You only do that when you're nervous."

And now she'd managed to annoy him.

"Mira-"

"I'm only curious," she insisted with a little shake of her head. "Dragon."

He huffed some, his chest deflating as he finally gave her his full attention. They were in the bar, as they typically were, but Mirajane had actually found a moment to take a break. Rest. S-Class trials were, at that very moment, going on and those who hadn't been chosen were sulking away from the guild for the time being while a decent sized group was off being put through the rigorous trials and tribulations that were associated with being designated part of the elite group of mages that were Fairy Tail S-Class wizards.

Laxus had no reason to be nervous.

He'd claimed his spot many years before and, at times, wondered if he even had eventually surpassed the old geezer all together. He'd be a wizard saint, someday, he knew, or at least told himself so, and that meant that he had far more concerns than something as silly as a guild distinction.

Not when may one day have the distinction among the entire continent.

S-Class trials had nothing to do with him and, if anything, he was mostly just glad to find that bar emptied out some that day.

"It's okay," Mira assured him then though and when she reached across the table, it was to grab his hand, pulling it down so that she could caress it as she looked deeply into the slayer's eyes. "I am too."

"You are what too?" he asked dumbly, confused equally by her words as he was calmed by her gesture.

"Nervous," she insisted.

"About what?"

"The same thing as you."

"I'm not," he told her, "nervous."

"Laxus-"

"What do I have to be nervous about, huh?" Then, frowning, he questioned, "What do you?"

"Well, actually, I'm nervous about a lot of things," she said, releasing his hand, but only so she could bring her own up to her cheek and rest her head there then, as she thought. "I have a shipment of meat that hasn't come in yet and I know, this weekend, if I don't get it, that I'll have to serve meals without any meat portion and the guys will be pretty upset about that, which will affect my tips, and I've been trying to save up money for my wedding. Which brings me to my next point, I've been saving for a wedding that can't yet happen because my boyfriend is dragging his feet with proposing to me even though we've talked about it a thousand times-"

"Mira," he warned, but she only shrugged.

"The dog I look after was sick last night, too," she finished. "I'm nervous about that."

Laxus, with a slight breath, questioned, "What's wrong with him?"

"He has the shits."

And he blinked. Then narrowed his eyes while the woman only gazed right back with hers earnest and honest.

Shrugging some then, Laxus said, "If you need help wrangling him down to a vet, I could-"

"Oh!" Mira sat up then. "And I'm super nervous because my baby brother is off on the S-Class trials and I want him to preform well." Shrugging, she added, "But I'm torn, because I also want all of my friends to do well. Including your best friend. Freed."

Laxus' face fell then as he realized he'd been duped (possibly; her street dog did have a hefty amount of ailments from time to time) and only looked off once more as he remarked, "Sounds like your problem. Not mine."

"Oh, it's not a problem. Laxus. To be nervous about such things." Sighing, she said, "It means that you care. About them. To be nervous for someone else. I want them all to come back, knowing that even though they can't all be the winner, at least invigorated and ready to start right back at training and trying their hardest to, eventually, be that winner. It's an honor to be nervous on someone's behalf. I'd gladly take all of Elf's nerves if it meant he could put all his focus into the trials right now."

Laxus snorted. "Yeah, well, bully for you. Freed can take care of his damn self. I don't need to worry about him, like you and your loser brother."

"Behave."

Snorting, the man looked off before saying, "I'm not worried. Over Freed. Or anything."

"Fine. Not worried then." Mira had lost some of her jolliness at the slight her boyfriend had sent towards her absent brother. "But you are thinking about it. Aren't you? Even just a little? He's your best friend. I would at least think-"

"I'm," he insisted to her with a finality in his tone he usually reserved for literally anyone who wasn't his demon, "not nervous about the S-Class trials. Or worried. Or concerned. Alright?"

Sighing, she looked off for a moment, considering the slight surge of people that had come in in the last ten minutes or so and weighing in her mind whether or not her break was officially over. Not quite ready to let it go though, when her eyes drifted back to her boyfriend, it was with another set of words on her tongue.

"If you're not nervous about the trials," she began in that tone and it was enough, just on its own, to make him regret coming into the hall that day, "then that must mean that you're nervous about something else, so what is it? Huh? Is it that you've been seeing someone else?"

"Mira, what?"

"Some other woman, is it, then? Who is she, Laxus? Huh? Don't think that I wont' make a scene here, right now, in front of everyone, because-"

"What are you-"

"-if you don't tell me what it is that you're so nervous about, then I have no choice but to assume that you're cheating on-"

"I'm nervous for my friend, alright?" And he usually wouldn't take such a tone with her, but he did then, snapping some, out of aggravation and, maybe it was a trick of the lights, but the woman could have sworn she even saw a flick of his fangs as the vein on the side of his head bulged and his eyes darkened. "I want him to be S-Class with me and I'm worried that your stupid brother or one of those other idiots will get it over him. Or that...that… He'll fuck it up himself. Is that what you want to hear? Huh?"

No.

The other people around the guildhall did not.

But they had, quite clearly, heard nearly every word of his little outburst and, feeling all those eyes on him now only made the man growl louder. He was primed for a retreat, storming off and staying away from the hall for a few days, until he could stomach a return without smashing in the face of the first person who questioned him.

Mirajane, however, wasn't going to let this happen.

Because, yes, she had been very happy with the explosion of information that had just fallen out of the slayer's mouth. She'd only been prodding at him her entire break. For it to result in such a satisfying revelation meant it hadn't all been for not.

"Awe," Mirajane giggled, clapping her hands at the slayer's misery. "You guys are just such good friends, huh, dragon? You feel a lot better, don't you? Getting that off your chest?"

"No," he told her with the same candor that he'd just exposed himself and his nerves to the entire guildhall. "I feel worse."

"Well," Mira hummed as, job complete, she got to her feet once more, she offered, "I feel better. Isn't that all that matters?"

"Demon." The moniker was more of a proclamation than an endearing term. "You're evil."

"I love you," was her purest of explanations and she meant it too, he could tell, as her deep blues flashed a bit of hurt. "Helping you admit your feelings for your friends is how I show that."

"Yeah, well," he muttered under his breath, "then you need to find new ways."

Laxus took off that night, before her shift was finished, but that was fine with the woman as she'd more than begun staying most nights at his apartment.

When she arrived, he was flicking through an old atlas, comparing it to a current map. Something for a job, was all he grumbled to her when she lightly questioned, and Mira let his tone go because, well, she had been rather insistent before, at the bar, and all things considered, he hadn't outright acted a fool.

Just mostly.

"If Elfman doesn't make S-Class," she did whisper, eventually, over dinner that night and she saw the man roll his eyes, thinking she was trying to goad him back into a conversation, "I'll cry."

Grunting, he only continued to stab at the steamed vegetables at his plate, never rightly bringing them up to his mouth, but not quite ready to admit, when he insisted in a huff that he be the one to make them, that this was a bad idea.

"Of course," she hummed again, "if he makes it, I'll probably cry then, too."

"Mira?"

"Yes?"

"I already told you what you wanted to hear," he told her plainly. "What else do you want from me?"

"I'd like you to make a big emotional plea again," she replied back with the same amount of flatness that it almost made the slayer recoil. At the sight of it though, she broke some as, with a giggle, she admitted, "I'm just talking, dragon. About my baby brother. Who wants this so badly-"

"If he wanted it badly, he'll come back S-Class," Laxus told her as, with a shake of his head, he went back to stabbing at his vegetables. "If he doesn't, then that means he didn't want it badly enough."

"Well, I'm not saying that to him, if he comes back not S-Class."

"Yeah, I figured."

"And I'm not saying that to Freed either."

"That's fine," Laxus told her. "I will. He knows where to go to hear the truth."

"A little kindness will get you a lot in life, Lax," she replied, but he only shrugged some.

"Won't get you S-Class," he retorted and, well, the next morning would finally put the entire conversation to rest.

Cana had never looked prouder than herself and, that night, never gotten drunker, than when she was finally, after wanting it for so long, so much, to find herself on the same Fairy Tail tier as her father.

He was there, Gildarts was, having been hanging around for a few days, prepared for this, and she seemed rather annoyed by all of his attention, shoving at the man's face any time he tried to hug her, but betraying her annoyance by the glistening in her eyes, every single time he, also drunkenly, announced to those amassed how proud he was of the guild's newest S-Class member.

His daughter.

Mirajane was caught as she always was, between dismayed at the heartbreak evident on the faces of those who weren't victorious and the one who was. As she comforted both Elfman and Natsu over their losses, she did take note, across the bar, of where Freed was very stoic and graceful in his defeat, but still being comforted in their own ways, by his two friends.

"Who wants to be S-Class anyways?" Bickslow questioned. "When you can be part of the most elite team in all the lands?"

"I would," Ever admitted under her breath though, still, she patted at Freed's shoulders sympathetically.

It was as they stood though that all three felt it. It had been looming, after all, the entire time. The presence of their most highly viewed mentor, Laxus, who came out of hiding, down in the game room. He'd been down there transferring his nerves into some rounds of pool, but Cana and Gildarts very loud commotion had finally caught his attention and he found himself not welcomed to the celebrations of the member he'd most desired.

At his approach, both Bickslow and Ever took a step back. They too had disappointed the man in the past, but never quite in such a grand fashion. Freed was primed to take the gold this time around, only to lose out to the guild drunk and Evergreen couldn't help but to glare over at the other woman, hating her more, even, than Titania, just for that day only.

Laxus came to a stop before the trio, eyes on Freed, and the rune mage forced himself to meet the gaze of the other man. It was just as he was beginning to open his mouth though that he caught sight of Mira, over at the bar, staring very pointedly his way and he took in a breath, instead of speaking, reconsidering his words before he was unable to take the back.

His gaze didn't soften, not exactly, but Freed was almost surprised when, instead of being reprimanded, he was welcomed with a pat at the shoulder from the man, as well as a slight grin.

"You kicked Elfman's ass, at least, right?" the slayer asked to which the other mage bowed his head a bit.

"Well, we did find ourselves across from one another and I found myself moving on while he did not, but-"

"All that matters."

"L-Laxus-"

"You'll want it more, next time," he told the other man simply. "After getting so close."

"Yes." And he balled up his fists then, Freed did, nodding his head at the man as he insisted, "I will!"

It was a celebration that night, not a pity party, as Cana was far from someone that anyone could look down upon (especially not with her father there, intent on making certain this didn't happen) and it was a good night.

For everyone.

The night peaked though, for Laxus, when towards the end of it, as he sat up at the bar drinking with the still far too giddy Gildarts, listening to the man go on about all of where he'd been (with some praise for his little girl sprinkled in there), Mirajane appeared at his side. The slayer originally thought it was to refill his mug, which he held up to help her with this, but instead of leaning down to fulfill this request, the woman instead pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering long enough for Gildarts to giggle at the man.

"Mira," Laxus questioned with a bit of a rosiness to his cheeks as the woman rightened and did, finally, begin to fill his mug with golden ale once more. Such public displays were hardly their style and the man raised his head then to question, "What was that for?"

"I just like it when you're nice, dragon." She even giggled. "I like it a lot."

But the night was busy and she was being called off again, across the bar, which left the still somewhat blushing Laxus and grinning Gildarts.

"You caught a good one, Laxus. Proud of ya."

"Shuddup."

"No, seriously." And Gildarts glanced over his shoulder then, to the table where his daughter was plying herself with barrel after barrel while her guild members, all so thrilled by her accomplishment, sat nearby, happily congratulating her. "I fucked up. You know. Once. With the only one that mattered. Sometimes you don't get second-chances, man." His serious tone faded though as his face contorted in a smile that didn't seem to stretch right across it as he said, "Unless you're like my Cana! No need for second-chances; she's all S-Class!"

"Yeah," Laxus snorted, "she just needed fourth and fifth and sixth-chances."

"What did you say? Eh? Laxus?"

And when Gildarts turned his head then, his face had contorted into something far darker and Laxus found it best to just sip his beer in silence for awhile.

They left together that night, Laxus and Mira did, the man a bit drunk and the woman, who'd worked the entire night away, stone cold sober, but it was fine, as she seemed high on something else.

"I'm so happy," she insisted to the man. "For Cana. It almost washes away how badly If eel for Elf."

Almost.

She was twirling and skipping that night, slightly before her boyfriend, and he only watched her for a few moments then before speaking.

"Maybe," he offered with a bit of a shrug, "he could come out with me. Elfman could. And we could train some times. To get him ready for next year."

And she stopped dancing then, Mira did, to look over her boyfriend as she instead flel into step with him. Slipping her arm into the crook of his, she snuggled up close to the man who, even drunk, only rolled his eyes.

"You're so sweet, Lax," she assured him as the man only groaned. "When you wanna be."

Even though his reaction seemed the exact opposite, slowly, Laxus was learning that, maybe, he always wanted to be.

[rika90]

Die Reise des Raben Chapter 2

Kaz Brekker x female reader

warnings: violence, death, swearing

word count: 2.8k

A/N: Hey, I'm back! Thank you so much for reading and liking chapter 1! Every like made my day. So here is the second part. Please tell me what you think.

When Kaz came to, he was completely disoriented. The last thing he could remember was a black figure that –. Kaz jumped up and looked around. No one to be seen. He collapsed back on the bed, his head was swimming. Everything came rushing back to him. The plague, Hertzoon, the scam and…Jordie. Kaz' whole body shook and he made a mad dash for the bathroom to retch. Afterwards he sank to the floor and took deep, calming breaths.

When he came back into the room, he noticed a small table next to the bed. There Kaz discovered dry clothes – was the sweater orange?! – as well as some food and water. He stared at the things; thoughts were racing in his head. There was no way the girl in the black coat had dragged him out of the harbour and brought him here. Why should she do such a thing? And then get him something to eat and drink? Nobody in the barrel does anything out of sheer friendliness, Kaz had learned that by now.

'Maybe she took me to her boss,' Kaz thought. The growl of his stomach tore him from his thoughts. No matter how and why he had ended up there, he would take the opportunity to strengthen himself and put on some dry clothes. After that he would tail out from here.

It was early afternoon when Kaz opened the door and peeked around the corner. He could hear muffled voices and the occasional shouting, but not a single person. He stepped out and slowly walked down the long hallway until he came to the stairwell. If he hadn’t known better, he would have guessed he was in one of the boarding houses in the barrel. His suspicion was confirmed when he got downstairs and saw a small reception desk.

The man behind the counter was reading a newspaper and didn't notice Kaz.

Kaz considered his options. He could go unnoticed or speak to the man and maybe find out something about the strange girl. Kaz sincerely hoped no one had seen the two of them enter the building yesterday.

"Excuse me, can you tell me who rented room 404?" Kaz asked.

The man lowered the newspaper. "Why should I tell you this, boy?"

"Well, I helped this girl home last night after a party but forgot to ask for her name. She's not in her room and I really need to see her again," Kaz groaned inwardly. He definitely still had to practice lying.

The man smiled lustfully and showed his rotten teeth. "Pretty thing, huh? It's a shame I wasn't on night duty yesterday."

Kaz shuddered.

The man looked at a list and said: "Mia Frey, it says here. The room was paid for two more days this morning. Hey, if you're lucky, she'll come back later."

"Okay, thanks," Kaz said and turned away. She wouldn't come back. She had left the key in the room when she left. Had she paid the two days for him? And was Mia Frey her real name anyway? Someone who walks around masked at night would hardly give their real name, would they?

Kaz still spent the day asking around if anyone knew Mia Frey. But, surprise, nobody knew her. But when he asked for a person with a raven mask, a barman advised him not to look for the Rabe.

"If you see him uninvited, you're as good as dead."

"Him?" Kaz asked.

"Well, no woman could ever slaughter an entire gang, “laughed the barman, then suddenly fell silent and looked around. "I shouldn't be talking about him at all. You never know who's listening," he muttered and went back to washing the glasses.

Kaz returned to the boarding house room that evening and found food and a note. She had been here! But how had she gotten into the room? He had kept the key with him the whole time. 'Apparently she is a contract killer, she’s probably able to pick a lock,' Kaz thought. He unfolded the note. 100 Kruge fell out. He picked it up and read the note on the slip of paper.

Stop looking for me. Don't make me regret saving your life. I can easily take it from you again. And buy yourself something decent to wear - you look terrible in orange.

- R

Kaz grinned, she had been watching him. Probably to silence him if he said too much. But he wasn't going to do that anyway. He wouldn't tell anyone about his encounter with Rabe. And he was pretty sure he wouldn't find her unless she wanted to. Still, he was sure that he would see her again. Perhaps one day she would come to collect his life debt, or she would

come to kill him at someone else's behest. Because what Kaz planned to do with his future would make him many enemies. The now well-known anger ran through Kaz. Pekka Rollins would pay. He would destroy him.

Brick by brick.

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

Over the years to come, (Y/N) watched from a distance as Kaz struggled and took on any job that made him money. Really anyone, no matter how dirty it was. He joined the Dregs, a small, insignificant gang, and quickly rose in ranks through his intelligence and ruthlessness. He gave the Dregs a standing and money. And build a reputation for himself.

Dirtyhands was quickly known as someone not to mess with. There wasn't much left to be seen of the frail boy (Y/N) had fished out of the harbour. Kaz Brekker had become a handsome man who could instil fear just by his demeanour.

The sun was just rising, and (Y/N) was sitting on 5th Harbour after a long night in the Ketterdam nightlife. It was already busy, and (Y/N) was amazed once again what Kaz had made of this neglected pier.

"Speaking of the devil," (Y/N) muttered when she saw none other than Kaz himself standing further down the docks talking to one of the captains. As always when she caught a glimpse of him, her breath caught. He was a real feast for the eyes. He always wore tailored suits, a hat, cane, and gloves. Gloves so he didn't have to touch anyone directly.

"Maybe you kept an eye on him a little more closely than planned," whispered a soft voice in (Y/N)'s head. She turned and headed home to get some sleep before her late night shift at the waffle shop.

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

She had long since noticed the thugs who followed her. She walked briskly to lure them into a secluded back alley, where she could kill the guys without causing a stir. (Y/N) sighed. 'Couldn't one just enjoy their end of work in peace?' She had been on her way back from her late shift at the waffle shop when she realized she was being followed. That was the reason why she usually volunteered for the late shift. The other girls would be easy prey for the

smugglers and the rabble that hung around the barrel at night.

When (Y/N) turned into the dead end, she ran to the end and then turned to the five men in mock desperation. Her big brown eyes looked around with uncertainty and she certainly gave a very believable picture of the frightened girl the men expected.

"Well, Missy, what are you doing out here alone so late? Don't you know it's dangerous?" one of the men sneered. The others laughed.

'Just laugh. As long as you still can,' (Y/N) thought. With a fake tremble in her voice, she called out to the strangers: "What do you want from me?"

The men had to come a little further into the alley so she could be sure that no one escaped

and could talk about her. No loose ends. She wanted to keep her harmless and lowkey appearance.

"Oh, we'll take you to our boss and he'll sell you to one of the brothels. You can't withhold such a pretty ass from the world," (Y/N) inwardly rolled her eyes. The guys wouldn't be a great loss to humanity.

The apparent leader stretched out his hand to her, he was sure of his cause, and it never occurred to him that she might be able to defend herself. He made it almost a little too easy for her. A cold smile crept onto her face and in the last second before his death the man realized his fatal mistake. Like so many before him, he had underestimated her.

(Y/N) rammed her dagger right into his heart. Pulled it out again in a flash and threw it directly into the throat of the next guy. The first slumped lifelessly to the floor, the second grabbed his neck while blood ran from his mouth. (Y/N) used the moment of surprise and rammed the elbow into the face of the man closest to her so hard he went down groaning and passed out. The other two woke from their trance and came running towards her. A gun would be too loud and would only draw unnecessary attention. 'So old school,' (Y/N) thought. She dodged the men, ducked under them, and used her speed to get behind them. She kicked the bigger of the two in the back of the knee so he buckled down and then slit his

throat from behind. In the meantime, the last guy standing had realized the gravity of the situation and pulled a pistol.

"Game over, doll, our boss will –."

A shot echoed through the alley and the last man fell to the ground. (Y/N) put her revolver back in her pocket.

"Saints, how did you survive in the barrel for so long? First rule: don't hesitate. Men. Always loving to hear themselves talk," (Y/N) muttered as she stepped over the motionless body. She went to the man she had only knocked unconscious to end him too. No loose ends. As she passed, she pulled her dagger out of the neck of the guy who was staring up at her with wide, empty eyes and saw the mark of the Dime Lions on the lower neck.

'Shit,' (Y/N) thought.

That is when she noticed something was wrong. She could feel a tingling sensation on her neck. A clear sign she was being watched.

But where was her persecutor hiding?

She also took care of the last man, wiped her daggers clean on his shirt and let her gaze wander unobtrusively through the alley and over the roofs when she got up. Bingo. Something had moved on the roof. Hardly noticeable. (Y/N) put her daggers away and strolled towards the main road, then turned around in a flash and fired at the figure on the roof.

She had no hope of having fired a fatal shot – the target was too difficult to see for that. She heard a cry of pain that confirmed she at least hit them and simultaneously gave away their exact position. She had to hurry, even in the barrel shots did not go unnoticed for long. (Y/N) reloaded, finger on the trigger as a yell cut her off.

"Stop!"

(Y/N) whirled around; the hand that held the revolver still pointed at the figure on the roof. But in her other hand she was now holding one of her very long daggers and aimed it at the man who was standing a few meters away at the entry of the alley.

'Wow, twice in a day,' was (Y/N)'s only thought.

"I’d prefer you not killing my wraith. I am sure we can find a solution that everyone can live with."

There he stood, leaning on his cane, in his tailored suit, staring steadily at (Y/N).

Kaz fucking Brekker.

The only person (Y/N) would ever hesitate for, hoping he would never become one of her loose ends.

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

Kaz was a businessman, he seized opportunities when they presented themselves to him. This opportunity was too good to miss. Kaz had seen her before. Moreover, it would have been really hard not to notice her. She was tall, with long dark hair curling over her shoulders and brown eyes that seemed to see right into a person's core. She had a pretty face and curves that would surely have made Aunt Helen good money. But Kaz was sure that no brothel had yet counted her among its attractions. She walked through the barrel far too carefree for that.

It was strangely fascinating. She tried not to blend in with the crowd as to not attract attention. She walked the streets with seemingly innate self-confidence that gave her an aura of inviolability. She was someone to be noticed. That’s why Kaz had noticed the girl, when two drunk and howling men had followed her down a side alley. He had been tempted to follow them and help the girl, but if she walked through this part of Ketterdam alone at night, she was probably a lost cause anyway.

The next day the bodies of the two pigeons had been found dead and the girl had walked the streets without a scratch on herself. On the same day, Kaz had told Inej to gather information on her. Anne Reed worked as a waitress in one of the waffle shops from time to time, went out to party and occasionally visited her grandparents in the countryside. Except for the fact that she could keep pushy guys at bay with a good chin hook, she seemed like a perfectly normal girl.

And this very girl has just been followed by five Dime Lions. Kaz wanted to see what would happen. Inej was supposed to keep an eye on what was happening from the rooftop while he looked around the corner of the alley with a mirror. In his wildest dreams he couldn’t have expected what he would see then. She was amazing. She lured the men into the trap and then struck mercilessly. Within minutes all five Dime Lions were dead, and the girl was walking away as if nothing had happened. Kaz turned away to quickly disappear into one of the empty house entrances.

When he heard the shot followed by Inej's cry of pain, his heart almost stopped. How did she discover Inej? It was impossible. He ran back to the alley, knowing that the girl could kill Inej.

"Stop!" Kaz shouted and a second later found himself at the point of a sword – or abnormally long dagger? – again. He hadn't planned any further. The girl hesitated, although she had just said that one should never hesitate and looked at him with a mixture of surprise and anger. Kaz used her hesitation.

"I’d prefer you not killing my wraith. I am sure we can find a solution that everyone can live with," he emphasizes the word live.

"Then tell your wraith if she even thinks of throwing one of her knives, you're dead, Brekker. She should come down from the roof."

"Inej, dear, if you can walk, please come down to us," turning to the girl he continued: "You know me, that saves us the introductions. I'm here to make you an offer."

Kaz actually wanted to come up with a plan first and then try to recruit her for the Dregs. It is always better to negotiate when you have leverage. But he didn't have the time and luxury now. He had to use the only advantage he had. The fact that she hadn't killed him right away. Something made her hesitate. Whether it was his reputation or something else didn't matter. He would think about that later.

"Everyone in the barrel knows you and I am not interested in any offer from you," the girl replied coolly as she kept an eye on Inej, who was limping around the corner. 'Just a graze, she'll survive,' (Y/N) noted.

"We could use someone like you in the Dregs. You'd have a room, always enough food and the protection of the Dregs," Kaz continued undeterred.

"What makes you think I need anyone's protection?" she asked; looking from her dagger to Kaz.

"It is only a matter of time before Rollin misses his boys here and finds out that the girl, they were supposed to bring to him, is still walking merrily through the barrel. You messed with the Dime Lions. You are good, I admit, but you can hardly take on a whole gang alone. We can help you."

"Oh, and you do that out of the utmost charity? Hardly likely. What do you want in return?" (Y/N) asked him.

"You work for me. As I said, your talents come handy in certain jobs."

She gave him an unfathomable look. Kaz couldn't read any of her thoughts on her face. But when she lowered the sword, Kaz dared to hope he had convinced her.

"I'll think about it," she finally replied and left the alley.

@mcntsee

[five-rivers]

I just had a vague idea for a Danny Phantom AU that treats the ghosts more as spirits than monsters to beat up, a bit like Yokai in japanese folklore. With barriers, sacret sited, curses, blessings, purifications, etc. The AU follows Danny becoming a guardian entity.

(I love that idea, and this isn’t quite what you’re talking about, I think, but...  Yeah, I don’t know.  Enjoy this snippet.)

Danny can feel it, the moment his feet hit the pavement of Saint Rita Avenue, and casts a blessing at whoever picked the name for this road.  He makes it to the median, and turns, facing back the way he came.  The washed-out yellow street lights prick at his eyes, reminding him that, as always, he has more in common with what he’s been running from than anything else.  

Darkness splashes against the barrier between street and sidewalk.  On both sides.

He hates it when spirits work together.

In Danny’s pockets, paper rustles.  Prayers and charms from half a dozen different cultures, East and West, copied as best three untrained teenagers could.  Some of them had done good.  None of them had done enough.

He’s glad it’s late enough that there are no cars.  The street is quiet, except for whispers only he can hear.  It is cold, except for the almost-comforting burning under his feet, promising him safety, for now.

But this is a road with the name of someone holy, not hallowed ground.  The barrier at its edges is not strong, and the thought of approaching an intersection, a crossroads, carries with it a frisson of risk that Danny is loath to ignore.  Sometimes the labyrinthine Old Law that governed crossroads was helpful, but not tonight.  Not this close to midnight with the shadows practically boiling with malice.  

He needs a church.  Or a temple.  Or a mosque.  Or a neopagan’s working space.  He’ll even take a backyard where a bunch of kids are going through an Egypt phase and play at worshiping Osiris and Horus-Re.  It’s worked before.  Barely.  Any place that’s had faith and its motions poured out on it often enough and recently enough for it to matter.  

Otherwise Danny will have to draw on his own power, and that’s never turned out well.  

But this section of Saint Rita Avenue isn’t the kind of place a church is built, and even with the spirit-thing swamping his senses with its hate, Danny can’t feel enough of a spark to justify breaking in.  

He used the last of his blessed salt to get this far.  He’s been out of holy water for days.  

The first tendrils of other have broken through the avenue’s barrier.  The whispers become razor sharp and crystal clear against Danny’s mind.  What are you what are you what are you and not here not there you don’t belong and we know you and pain and fear and give up give up give up.  They’re singsong and saccharine and far from the worst he’s endured so far tonight. 

He’s out of time.  He’s out of ideas.  

Danny takes a step backwards and stops being Danny.  

Phantom is different than Danny.  He is made of pain and fear and all the things Danny thought were more important than his own life.  He is a wild and contradictory spirit, his anchor to this word both inviolable and tenuous.  He walks the narrow path between the sacred and the unspeakably profane.  

The spirits reaching for him know this.  They use it as their weapon, and it hurts more than anything.  

(He is a thing that should not be and every second he does he degrades the souls of everyone around him he is a parasite does he not see--) 

Phantom knows he cannot win this fight.  But if he runs, these spirits will continue to hunt, to prey--

No.  

He can see the spirits more clearly now than when he was clad in flesh.  He can see them one, two, three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen times and more, spread across the layers of reality that they are allowed.  When he is Danny again, he will remember a shapeshifter and a woman made of black flames.  

(He does not know what he looks like in these places.  He is afraid to find out.)

He fights.  

He loses.  Badly.  

Not so badly that he cannot run home to the maze of light his parents built blind and he added to with averted eyes.  This could be seen as a kind of victory, to live to fight again, protect again, come up with a new strategy, but Phantom has been injured too badly.  A wound to the spirit is still a wound, never mind that when he wakes up as Danny all he feels is a heart-deep ache.  

His covers are tangled around him when he wakes, the protective signs Tucker had embroidered into the cloth pressed against his bare skin.  He does not know what happened to the clothes he was wearing.  If he is lucky, he dropped them in the wash in a post-transformation haze.  If not, they’re lying in the middle of Saint Rita Avenue.  Or just.  Gone.  Which is also an option.  

As he frees himself, he notices more marks on his skin.  They match the low-grade fog of depression in his brain.  Both are souvenirs from fighting with his soul outside his body.  

(Or whatever his soul had become.)

Getting dressed is a chore.  A painful chore.  He makes it downstairs eventually, although he wishes he hadn’t when he sees Jazz’s spirit week poster on the kitchen counter.  Spirit.  It seems like a cruel universal jest.  

A warm hand touches his shoulder, and Danny looked up into his sister’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” says Danny, even as he thinks no.  

She smiles, just a little bit.  “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Danny shrugs.  He can’t, really, and he doesn’t want to lie to her face.

“Just-- I know you’re going through some stuff, but, I have faith in you, okay?  I believe in you.  So, try to believe in yourself, too, okay?”

“Okay,” says Danny.  Something feels... different, about the way Jazz says that.  It isn’t her normal pep talk, and she doesn’t mention psychology at all.  

She gives him a slightly large smile and a pat and walks away.  

Mine, whispers the part of him that was always Phantom, sounding both surprised and pleased.  

Of course she’s ours, Danny thinks back, she’s our sister.  

But he feels fuller, now.  Healed, in some small way, from what had been done to him the previous night.  

It takes longer than it should for him to put the pieces together.