#this is a wind up right? this has to be a wind up. someone is pranking me right now with this shit

[darkbluekies]

Cannot take what was never meant to leave

Yandere!king OC x fem!fairy!reader

Summary: Edmund walks out in the forest and finds something he never seen before: a tree fairy. Upon learning that he can't take her as long as her tree is there, he does the only thing he can think of.

Warnings: Edmund is a bit more insane than usual, reader is in a lot of pain, kidnapping, basically killing, use of an ax

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Erutan's song "The Willow Maid"!! I have absolutely loved that song for ages, and after seeing PurestarMedia's music video of it on YouTube, I had to write something!! Edmund felt like the perfect fit for it!!

Summer is almost over. He can tell by a slight shift in the winds that colder times are approaching, even though barely any of the trees show any signs of autumn. He can't wait until he can bring out his thicker coat. He likes the colors of it much more.

Ten men he brought with him on his hunt for rabbits. They've decided to go into another part of the forest in hopes of finding anything.

Suddenly. A sound.

“Shh!” Edmund hushes and holds up a hand, signaling the others to stop.

He listens closely. It sounds like humming. It's a tune he has never heard before, but one that feels weirdly familiar — as if he has heard it in a dream or past life.

Quietly, they follow the sound until they reach a field full of small, white flowers. In the middle of the white field stands a tree with dark leaves. A scene taken straight out of one of the paintings hanging on the castle walls. Edmund notices someone sitting by the foot of the tree, resting among the roots. A woman?

The group of men creep closer. The woman is lying on the tree roots, leaning her head against the tree trunk, having a root under her knees for support. She's dressed in a long, white gown reminding Edmund of the small flowers. On her head rests a flower crown made of the very flowers. Her eyes are shut. Her mouth hums. 

A fairy.

One of Edmund’s men steps onto a branch on the floor, which snaps in half and pulls the fairy out of her thoughts. Her eyes snap open, revealing them to be deep and dark — and full of fear. She shoots up from her root and stumbles backwards, hiding behind her tree.

“Who are you?” she asks quickly. “What do you want?”

“You are a fairy”, Edmund says, still in disbelief.

“Yes … what do you want?”

“Have you seen any rabbits around here?”

She peeks out from behind the tree.

“What do you want them?” she asks and seems to notice the rifles hanging over their shoulders. “I'm not assisting you in killing harmless creatures.”

Edmund meets her dark eyes. They're hypnotic.

“You humans are despicable sometimes”, she says. “Killing innocent creatures who haven't done anything to you.”

“If I wouldn't, someone else would — man or animal.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Yeah, we should move on. We have rabbits to hunt.”

He can feel her eyes burn through his back as he walks back over the field of white flowers. He hopes that she will watch him until he disappears into the forest.

“Did you have a good hunt, your majesty?” his secretary asks as Edmund and his ten men come back to the castle.

“Caught a few rabbits”, he answers and smiles, thinking of the memory. “We encountered a fairy.”

They start to walk inside. 

“A fairy?” the secretary asks and holds the door into the castle open for the young king.

“What do you know about fairies?” Edmund asks. 

They walk down the large hall.

“I know that, like humans, there are different types of fairies”, the secretary says. “You found her in the woods, you said?”

Edmund nods. 

“She’s probably a tree fairy”, the secretary continues. 

“Yeah, she was sitting by a tree … almost like it was holding her”, Edmund says, furrowing his dark brows as he thinks about it. 

He holds out his arms as if he was carrying a woman, imagining her knees bending over his right arm and her back supported by his left … her head resting on his shoulder — like she had done to the tree bark. 

They walk into Edmund’s office, closing the door behind them. 

“What do you know about tree fairies?” Edmund asks and throws himself in his chair. 

“I know that they live in the woods and that they are connected to a particular tree. They feed off of sap from the tree and flower nectar — and if their tree bears fruit they eat that too.”

“What happens if they eat something else? Like meat? Or potatoes?”

“I don’t know, your majesty.”

“Would it kill them, do you think?”

“Perhaps. What I do know kills a tree fairy is killing their tree.”

Edmund looks up at him. “What?” 

“Their life source is connected to their tree. They live as long as their tree does.”

“So you’re saying that a fairy can become hundreds of years? Thousands even?”

“Could be.”

“Interesting.” He sighs and throws his head back. “You should have seen that thing. Before she noticed us she looked so … peaceful. She was resting and humming a tune. When she realized that we were there she flew up and hid behind her tree. All of that seemed so young and naive. Her tree wasn’t that large either. I think I’ve found myself a young fairy.”

“The fairy seems to interest you.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet a fairy. I didn’t believe that they actually existed. But now, I’ve found one. I think that I’m going to make her my wife.”

The next day, he returns with his ten men and his secretary, dressed in his autumn coat. On the way to the glade, Edmund picks a few flowers with the biggest nectars he can find, hoping that they will be a good enough gift. He is going to ask her to marry him. 

She is walking around the white flowers, picking up a few and putting them in her flower crown. She looks up as they come. This time she doesn’t look as startled, but there’s something wary in her eyes. 

She’s beautiful and delicate, there’s no denying. Edmund needs her. Every fiber of his body needs her. She needs to be his wife, to be the mother to his children. He refuses to leave without her. 

“What brings you back?” she asks as Edmund gets close enough, but doesn’t sound like she wants to know. 

He can tell that she wants to get back to her tree. She gives it quick glimpses and takes small steps back towards it. 

Edmund holds out the flowers towards her. She hesitates before taking them out of his hand. Her fingertips barely graces his skin. Her touch is humanlike, kind and delicate. 

“Thank you”, she says and smells them softly. 

He smiles. He wants nothing more than to hug her, to hold what belongs to him in his arms, but he has to ask the question first.

“I want you to marry me”, Edmund says. 

The fairy drops the flowers in shock. They disappear underneath the small, white ones. Edmund furrows his brows.

“Marry you?” the fairy repeats, shocked. “How could I possibly-? No, no, I shall not.”

Edmund stares at her, eyes darkening, unable to understand how anyone could turn down his proposal. Women would travel far and wide to hear those words come from his mouth, and this fairy — who does she think she is — doesn’t even think twice before rejecting him. It should crush him, but instead it has the opposite effect. He will not leave without his fairy. 

He looks over his shoulder, at his ten men. “Seize her.”

Just as the ten men are about to grab the fleeing girl, his secretary grabs his shoulder. 

“Your majesty, don’t”, he says quickly. “That won’t be possible. She can’t leave the glade.”

“What do you mean?” Edmund scoffs.

“She’s connected to that tree.” He nods towards the tree in the middle of the field. “She can’t leave it.”

Edmund glares at the tree. That damn tree. The woman runs through the flowers towards her tree, hugging it tightly. Edmund finds it humorous how she thinks a simple tree could protect her. He could do it a hundred times better, will do it a hundred times better. 

He sees how she sinks down by the tree, huddled up by the tree bark, crying. Soon, she will search for comfort in him, not a damn tree. 

“We can’t take her”, the secretary says. “I don’t know what would happen if we tried, but as long as that tree is there, we can’t remove her.”

Edmund doesn’t answer as he walks back into the forest. The ten men follow him. His secretary keeps a distance. Edmund feels like he could explode with anger. He had pictured himself leaving the forest with his new fiance hand in hand. But he will not give up. He will get his fairy. 

He returns a third time the next day. This time he’s by himself … and this time, he’s brought an ax. Determined to take her with him. She will be his wife. This time, he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. He will not walk away empty handed. The thought consumes him as he marches through the forest, towards the glade. 

He can see her lying in the same spot he had seen her the first time. This time, she’s not humming. She opens her eyes as he gets nearer and jumps to her feet as her eyes fall on the sharp edge of the ax. 

“No!” she screams in pure panic. “No, what are you doing?! Don’t!”

Edmund lifts his hands and lands a blow on the bark, cutting away a piece. To his right, the fairy screams in agonizing pain and clutches her heart. He continues to hit the tree. The woman continues to scream. She cries in pain. 

It takes longer than he expects. He takes his eyes off the deep cut in the tree and turns them towards her. She’s lying between the roots, curled up with her hands pressed against her heart, crying and screaming. 

“Please stop!” she screams and sobs so that her entire body trembles. “Y-You’ll kill me! Please s-stop, please! I’m begging y-you!”

If he continues to hit the tree, she will die. 

Edmund will have to bring a piece of the tree with him and replant it in his castle’s garden so that it doesn’t die — so that she doesn’t die. He continues to chop. She continues to scream, cry and plead for him to stop. 

A loud creaking echoes through the air. He watches as the tree bends in half and falls. The fairy stumbles upon weak legs and hugs her fallen tree, sobbing. 

With the ax, Edmund manages to dig up root systems of the tree. He holds it in his left hand and grabs the fairy’s wrist tightly with his right. He yanks her up on her feet. 

“You belong to me now”, he says. 

She only sobs for an answer. She tries reaching out for her tree, but Edmund pulls her with him. She stumbles. He drags her into the forest. 

“Please …”, she sobs. “Please …”

He doesn’t know what she begs for. The tree is fallen, he can’t undo what he has done. 

“Please, I’m in so much pain”, she pants. 

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t have time for it. He has to get her to the castle, where he can lock her in, so that she can’t escape out to the forest again. 

He can feel her collapse. Edmund gasps and watches her lie lifeless on the ground. He shoves the tree roots in his pocket and hurries to check her pulse. She’s still living, for now. Edmund stresses to pick her up. Her limp body rests in his arms as he runs out of the forest, towards the castle. 

He runs into the castle yard, into the hallways and out to the garden. He lays the fairy down on the grass and hurried to dig a hole with his hands. Oh, how he hates the feeling of dirt under his nails. He can’t think about that now. 

He places the root in the hole and covers it with the soil. Edmund runs over to the fountain, cups his hands and fills it with water. He runs back and forth until enough water has been poured over it. He feels for a pulse on the fairy’s neck. There’s still a faint pulsation underneath his fingers. He removes his coat and places it on the ground beside the tree root before lifting the fairy onto it. He caresses her face. 

“You actually got her.”

He looks over his shoulder at his secretary. He stands there, looking at them in disbelief and horror. 

“Is she dead?” he asks. 

“No, not yet”, Edmund replies  breathlessly. “I brought a piece of the tree here and I have replanted it. She should survive. But we need flowers — lots of flowers. And anything else a fairy might eat. We need to nurture her back to life.”

“I’ll prepare some honey water, I think that should be drinkable.”

Edmund sits by the fairy, waiting patiently. 

Hours go by. She doesn’t move. Barely breathing. Edmund wonders if he she has fallen into some kind of limbo, where the tree is barely alive, and so is she. If the tree doesn’t survive, neither will she. He has to nurture both. 

He feeds the tree water and nutrient dense soil and tries to pour droplets of honey water into the fairy’s mouth. Sometimes she responds by swallowing softly, and sometimes let it drip out of her mouth. 

Hours turn to days. Days to weeks. As the tree slowly grows roots in Edmund’s soil and become stronger, so does the fairy. Edmund doubts that she will ever become as strong as she was before. The tree will never be in its full glory again, and neither will she. She can’t walk, her body is too weak to move more than a few minutes. He lets her rest by her short stub. When he can’t stay with her, he watches from afar, from one of the windows. She’s always curled up, hugging her stomach as if she’s got cramps. The poor thing never smiles anymore. 

He holds a glass of warm honey water in his hands as he walks out to the petty excuse of a tree. It'll take years to become as big as it originally was, but it will never be the original tree.

“Hi”, Edmund says softly and sits down beside the fairy, holding the cup to her dry lips.

She doesn't seem to care what she gets fed anymore. Maybe she hopes that it will kill her.

In a sense, Edmund has killed the fairy.

She drinks slowly.

“I don't know what to feed you when winter comes”, he says. “I have harvested a lot of nectar and sap, but I don't know how long that will be good for.”

A tear runs down her cheek. Edmund wipes it carefully.

“My fairy, don't worry”, he whispers reassuringly. “I will figure it out.”

He wishes that she could respond, but he hasn't heard her voice since that day she screams in pain — when he killed her.

He stands up, gives her forehead one last kiss before walking back inside. In the beginning, he used to have guards watch over the garden to make sure that she wouldn't run off, but he realized that as long as that tree is there, she isn't going anywhere.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Heart sweater | B.B

Your daughter got a present for his daddy and Bucky isn’t afraid to show everyone what his little girl got for him.

Pairing: Mob!Dad!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Wife!Reader

Wordcount: 2.033 Words

Warnings: none, just lots of fluff

Authors Note: I couldn’t help myself. This sweater is just so adorable and imagine Bucky’s little girl getting it for him. So yes, soft spot, feeling soft right now. Hope you enjoy!

Events: Winds of autumn challenge | Candy corn 🍬 a sweet surprise, Balance ⚖️ as the equinox approaches, the day and night balance out. Write about finding peace | @the-slumberparty

Seasonal Delights Bingo: fall vibes | Row One-One | soft kisses | @seasonaldelightsbingo | Fairytale Bingo | Row One-Three | Goddess of marriage | @fairytalebingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Daddyyyy! We gots you a present!" A childish voice echoes through the hallway of the building. Your and your little — big — families home. Others may say that you, Bucky, and your daughter are family, but there are so many more; they aren’t from the same blood but with the same big hearts.

Bucky’s men, who not only needed to earn his trust but also needed to earn their place in the family, are more than just his men. They are Bucky’s friends, your friends, and your daughter's uncles. None of them would let anything happen to you or the little girl — not just because Bucky told them to take care, but because you’re a family.

Your little daughter runs further through the hallway until she finally reaches her dad's office door. The second floor of the building is just an office — for Bucky and his men. And since he had an important meeting, he suggested that you could go out with her to get some new toys and clothes.

Of course, your little baby girl didn’t go to the toy store first. She loves it, but you’re shopping? She has to get a present for her daddy. She kind of gives herself a treat after finding the perfect present for Bucky — and then she uses all the money she can to get a lot of toys and stuff for herself.

You watch the toddler with amused eyes whenever you’re shopping without Bucky. Mostly Steve comes with you, keeping the two of you safe and just giving you a helping hand so you don’t have to carry all of these bags yourself.

“Sweetheart,” you chuckle while she already jumps to reach the handle and almost falls into her dad's office. You laugh softly, shaking your head — she is just as stubborn as her daddy when it comes to letting someone help or listen once they get excited.

Bucky’s head shoots up the moment the door swings open. He smiles at his little girl, then his eyes wander further toward you. The ocean blue orbs glistening when his lips curl up into a soft smile — one he reserves only for you and your little girl.

“Take care, my sweet little plum. Don’t want ya to get hurt, do we?” He asks, his voice soft but still a bit firm, so the little girl will listen to him. Her eyes — which are just as blue as Bucky’s — roam over her daddy’s body, from his legs up to his face, before she smirks with the widest grin ever.

“We gots you something’, daddy!” She says, excitedly. Bucky crouches down, resting his arms on his knees while he waits for his little girl to continue talking. “Mommy! Daddy waits fo’ you!”

You chuckle, looking for the bag in your hand she wants to have before placing all the others down and handing her the one she put her daddy’s present into. Bucky’s eyes move toward you; without any words, he makes sure you’re okay and that you can be without a kiss for a few more minutes while he focuses on his baby girl.

Once he’s sure you’re fine — after you settle down on the couch in his office and sigh softly — he mouths, ‘I love you, my pretty girl’ to you. And oh damn, you know why you fell in love with that man. He may be a big, feared mafia boss, but around you he is the sweetest, most loving, caring, and perfect husband — and father for your daughter — you could have wished for.

Bucky may be mad because of work sometimes; he may be annoyed, but he never lets it out on you. He would rather punch himself than make you feel like he doesn’t appreciate you or that you’re a burden for him. For your husband, you’re the most precious woman, and he will do everything to keep you safe and loved. He does the same for your little girl.

Luckily, Bucky discovered immediately that whenever he's mad, he just needs you, and everything is perfect. Preferably when he can keep you on his lap. His arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and pull you as close as possible while he presses his face into your chest. You will run your fingers through his hair, and he knows he’s safe — no reason for anger or annoyance, just love and affection, so he calms down without needing anything but you.

“So what do you have for me, my little plum?” Bucky asks, looking with amusement and curiosity at the little girl in front of him. She giggles, her tiny hands grasping his cheeks, and she runs her small fingers over his stubbles.

“Sc’atchy,” she mumbles and squeezes his cheeks together. Bucky lets out a low chuckle, letting her play with his scratchy stubbles. He knows how much his sweet little girl likes his stubbles; she is just like her mommy loving his metal arm and his stubbles — even though you have other intentions when it comes to his metal arm or his stubbles. But those are secrets that stay in the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you wanted to show Daddy what you got for him,” you remind her when you notice that she got lost in her little game to play with her daddies cheek. But she was so excited to get him his present, plus you know that Bucky’s curious as well.

She removes her small hands and grasps the paper bag again, opening it before hiding her face almost inside of it. You would never leave her with a bag without anyone else around her, but as long as you and Bucky are there, you don’t feel scared if she puts her head slightly into it to tease her daddy a bit.

“Yeah, my little plum. What do you got Daddy, huh?” He asks, bringing his big hands to her small sides to poke his fingers into her soft flesh. The little girl laughs, throwing her head back while she wiggles in his grip.

She pulls her tiny hands out of the bag and holds a big, white sweater with hearts on it in front of her. Her smile grows and her eyes sparkle as she shows it to Bucky. And the big, most feared mafia boss has the sweetest expression on his face.

His eyes shine, and it looks like the sun is brightening them. His smile reaches almost his ears as he stares at the fabric in his daughter's hands. Bucky’s eyes wander to you for a second, then back to his little girl.

“Thank you, my little plum,” he coos, taking the sweater out of her hands to admire it a moment longer. Your daughter watches Bucky intensely — the same intense stare Bucky has if he wants to find out how you think about something. “You want me to take it on right now?”

She nods, letting herself fall backward into her butt while she holds his gaze. He nods, smirking softly. Bucky leans forward, his big hand placed at the back of her head, and he brings her closer to press his plump lips against her forehead.

“Then I will do that,” he says, getting up from the stop he was kneeling. His eyes land on you, and before he leaves the room to change into the new sweater, he makes his way over to you.

He towers over you, both of his hands finding their way to your thighs, and he leans closer. His lips almost brush yours when he grins at you. “She chose the sweater all by herself, but you allowed her to buy it, didn’t you?”

You shiver under his intense stare and his rough voice. “S-she’s just really convincing. I know you said you don’t want presents, but I guess— I guess she got that from you,” you giggle and Lena closer to chase his lips for a soft kiss. Bucky chuckles, kissing you once again before he pushes himself up and makes his way out of the room to change into the sweater you and your daughter got him.

Your daughter gets one of her new toys out of the bag and shows it to you. It’s not like you don’t know what she bought, but she loves to show you and explain everything about it anyway.

“Mommy, wants book or wants dolly?” She asks, lifting her small arms and holding both up to let you decide which of these she should show and explain to you.

“Do you want me to tell you more about the book you got?” You ask. She nods and puts the doll down, walking with the book in her hands toward you. The little girl places the book on the couch next to you, her small fingers digging into your thighs, and she tries to push herself up onto the couch. “Do you want me to help you, sweetheart?”

“Nuuu, ‘m big girl!” She nods, underlining her words. You chuckle; let her climb up without help. Your hand is still behind her back just in case she falls backwards, but she doesn’t.

Once she is on top and next to you, she wiggles a bit and takes the book, placing it in your lap. She just wants to explain why she got the book, who’s on the cover, and what she knows about her favorite series — the book is about it — when Bucky walks back into the room.

Her eyes widen, and she giggles as she sees her big daddy in this pretty sweater she got him. You smile softly at him, reaching your hands out for him to come closer. “You’re pretty, Bucky,” you say and run your fingers over the back of his flash hand, then over the fabric of the sweater.

“Didn’t know I would look that good in that sweater,” he jokes. Stroking one of his hands over the fabric. And he really does look adorable with his middle long hair, his broad chest, and his big arms — the feared mafia boss — wearing a sweater with a lot of hearts on it because his sweet little plum got it just for him. “So, my little plum, what do you think?”

Bucky gets down on his knees in front of the couch, looking at the little girl. Her ocean blue eyes roam over him a little longer before she giggles. “Looks pwetty, daddy! Now we can go back to work!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I thought I could take out my girls for dinner.” Bucky tilts his head. His fleshy hand holds yours tightly while he watches the little girl, considering if she wants to work or prefers to have dinner with the two of you.

“Do we gets my favorite food?” She asks, taking her book and making grabby hands, waiting for Bucky to pick her up. He nods, wrapping his arms around her to lift her onto his waist before he holds a hand out for you to grasp and let him pull you up.

Bucky doesn’t care that people could look weird at him for wearing a sweater with hearts on it. His sweet girl got it for him, and he knows that no one will disrespect him — not even when he looks like a sweet puppy with an adorable sweater.

“You know, babydoll,” Bucky says, looking at you as he wraps his free hand around your waist to pull you into his side. His nose brushes over your cheek until his lips press against your temple. “Thank you for letting out sweet plum to buy me such a pretty sweater. Now I’m wearing your necklace, our wedding band, and my little girl's sweater. I love you, my babydoll, pretty momma.”

Bucky’s voice is low, and he smirks against your skin as you shiver. You knew he would love the sweater — he loves everything you or your daughter get him. “I love you too, Buck,” you mumble before you make your way to the restaurant — letting Bucky show his sweater around to let everyone see how proud he is to have his family, how much he loves you and his little plum, and how much he appreciates you and your love.

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[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 3

part one | two | three - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

(requests open)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4921

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate (soulbound) & time travel au, english is not my first language, i took names of professor in harry's time (it's easier that way)

NOT PROOFREAD :D - thank you for 200 followers 😭😭🫶

you were walking through the hogwarts courtyard, bundled up in your robes as the wind carried a hint of the colder months that were coming. the sun filtered through the canopy of orange and red, it was a cold day without the sun. as you approached the gryffindor common room after breakfast, you spotted lucas - tall, with his messy black curls and easygoing grin, leaning casually against the wall

"there you are!" he called out, pushing off the wall and strolling over to you. "i've been look for you. fancy coming with me to hogsmeade? i've got some things to pick up, and i thought you could use a break from all the studying."

you raised an eyebrow, interested. "and by 'things', you mean what exactly?"

"important stuff!" lucas replied with mock seriousness. "like sweets from honeydukes and a new quill, since i keep losing mine. and, of course, we have to stop at zonko's - can't leave without some supplies for our next prank on maeve."

you let out a laugh, feeling the tension of the past few days years slip away. you figured you could use a shopping day - it was a saturday after all, you could just study after. "sounds like a plan, though i'm not sure if maeve would be happy with another one of your 'masterpieces'."

"she'll survive. besides, i've got a new idea that'll totally blow her mind, just wait and see," lucas nudged you, playfully.

as the you made your way down the long, winding path to hogsmeade, a sleek black cat caught your eye. it seemed to be lingering just out of reach, you'd seen the cat a few times today, always trailing a few paces behind, watching you with its bright, curious green eyes. it had followed you from the common room to the courtyard, through the grounds, and now as walking behind you and lucas as though it belonged with the two of you.

"look at that," you murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the cat. "it's been following me this enitre day."

lucas turned around, narrowing his eyes slightly at the feline. "huh, that's a little weird, don't you think? cats don't usually follow people around for no reason."

you crouched down and extended a hand toward the cat. to your surprise, it didn't hesitate. the cat padded forward and nuzzled your palm, its fluffy and soft fur was warm, despite the chill in the air. you smiled, scratching it behind the ears.

"i think it likes me," you said, looking up at lucas. "maybe it's a stray. what do you think?"

lucas crossed his arms and looked at the cat with a suspicious look. "it's a little too good to be true, don't you think? a mysterious black follow you around hogwarts. you know there are loads of horror stories about witches using cats as spies, right?"

"you're paranoid," you rolled your eyes at him, but smiled.

"i'm cautious," lucas corrected, though there was a small teasing glint in his eyes. "but if you're set on keeping it, we should make sure it's not... i don't know, an animagus or something. better safe than sorry, right?"

"you think someone's been using this little thing to spy on me?"

lucas shrugged, but he was already pulling out his wand. "could be, perhaps. there's a simple charm to check for such things, it won't hurt the cat - you have my promise."

you stood up and took a step back, "okay, but i'm telling you, it's just a normal cat."

lucas raised his wand, pointing it at the cat as he muttered the incantation under his breath. a faint blue light shimmered from the tip of his wand. it surrounded the cat for a moment before fading away.

you both stared at the cat in silence, holding your breath, waiting for whatever that was about to happen. but the cat just blinked up at you, then licked its paw nonchalantly.

lucas let out a breath, "phew.. what do you know? it's just a regular old cat."

"told you," you smirked, "looks like you're now stuck with me and my new pet."

the cat - as if it sensed your affectionate words, let out a soft purr and wound itself around your legs once more. you knelt down and scratched behind its ears again. a bond was already beginning to form. the only problem was the lice and many more things that was scattered across its fur.

"alright, alright," lucas said, laughing. "i suppose it shouldn't be a problem."

with the cat in tow, you and lucas continued down the path to hogsmeade. the bustling village was already alive with students and locals, shops were gleaming with fresh stock and festive decorations for upcoming festivities. as you entered honeydukes, the warmth of the shop's interior enveloped you, along with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate.

"so, what's your go-to sweet?" lucas asked as he grabbed a basket; eyeing the chocolate frogs with heart eyes.

"maybe the peppermint toads?" you said with a grin, grabbing a small bag from the shelf. "they're the perfect balance of sweet and refreshing."

lucas pulled a face, "you're a maniac. it's all about the fizzing whizzbees."

both of you wandered through the aisles, piling your basked high with various candies - sugar quills, licorice wands, jelly slugs. at one point, lucas tried to sneak a handful of bertie bott's every flavour beans into your bag, but you caught him just in time.

"you're not tricking me into eating vomit-flavored beans again!" you narrowed your eyes at him.

lucas laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "fine, fine. i'll save it for someone else."

after stocking enough sweets to last long enough (almost a month), you and lucas headed to zonko's. the shop was just as chaotic as expected, filled with exploding fireworks, laughing gas, and all manner of joke items. lucas was in his element, darting from one display to the next with an excitement you hadn't seen since your first year at hogwarts when you'd go shopping with the weasley's.

it made you wonder if there was a weasley in this timeline, or a potter, surely there must-

"i've got it," lucas broke your trance, holding up a box nose-biting teacups. "we'll switch maeve's regular tea with one of these. can you imagine the look on her face?"

you shook your head, grinning, "you're terrible."

"hey! you're the one who agreed to come with me," he replied, winking. "makes you an accomplice."

after spending almost an hour in zonko's, you finally dragged lucas away before he bought the entire store. the two of you made your way back to hogwarts, the pockets of your robes stuffed with sweets, joke items, and - in your case - also a black cat nestled happily in your arms.

"already thought of a name?" lucas asked as you strolled along the path.

you looked down at the cat, who had fallen asleep in your arms, still purring softly. "i'm not so sure yet, maybe something like 'shadow' maybe?"

"shadow," lucas mused, "hm, not bad, fits the while 'following you everywhere' thing it's got going on."

you laughed, feeling the warmth of the cat's fur against you. despite the whirlwind of chaos that had brought you here, there was something so comforting about the small creature that had decided to be your companion.

and as you and lucas made your way back to the castle, joking and teasing each other, you felt like things were normal. like you were just a regular student at hogwarts, living in a time untouched by war and dark magic.

you went to sleep that day feeling better already with the small feline curled up at the end of your bed, purring, its little collar having a little bell that you bought in a shop.

the following morning you made your way down the main aisle, the familiar hum of chatter and clicking of cutlery filling the air. it was officially your second week at hogwarts, and though you were still getting used to the time period, you started to have a routine.

you reached the gryffindor table and spotted your friends, already gathering around a platter of toast and eggs, some of them had pancakes. they waved you over and made space as you slipped onto the bench beside them.

“morning y/n!” maeve greeted brightly, pushing a pitcher of pumpkin juice toward you. her curly hair was a little wild this morning, as if she didn’t care. “sleep well?”

you poured yourself a glass, “pretty well, all things considered. i think i’m getting used to these weird ancient beds.”

alicia snorted, her red hair falling into her eyes as she reached for a stack of pancakes. “weird ancient beds? try getting used to the weird ancient ghosts! i had nearly headless nick hovering over my bed last night telling some kind of story about jousting. i barely slept.”

“better nick than peeves, though. that poltergeist kept chucking ink at me during charms yesterday,” maeve giggled, spreading jam on a piece of toast.

you laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest that you weren’t expecting. these girls had made everything feel… lighter. the constant worry in the back of your mind lessened. here, in the morning sunlight with breakfast laid out before you, you almost forget the real reason why you were here.

“mm, speaking of charms,” mave said, glancing at her timetable. “we’ve got it again this morning. think professor flitwick will finally let us practice summoning spells?”

“i certainly hope so,” lilith spoke as quiet as ever, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “right? i’ve been dying to try action on something bigger. imagine being ahle to summon an entire plate of pastries!” lucas exclaimed.

“as if we need more reasons for you to get distracted during class, luca,” alicia rolled her eyes.

they continued to chatter about the day ahead, while you found your gaze wandering around. the students were busy with their own conversations, some were studying, others were yawing over cups of tea while some were also scribbling down last-minute notes for their morning classes. everything felt so normal.

when your eyes landed on the skye thing table, the illusion of normalcy shattered. you’d almost forgot about him.

tom riddle. he was sat at the center, surrounded by his usual group of admirers. he was composed, elegant even, as he buttered a piece of toast. speaking quietly to a blonde male next to him.

you looked away quickly before his group - or him, could notice you staring. “you’re awfully quiet this morning,” maeve nudged you with her elbow.

“everything alright?”

you gave a smile, hoping it didn’t look to strained. “yeah, just thinking about today.”

“don’t worry about it too much, it’s only the second week,” lucas smiled. “besides, you’re part of the group now, we’re in this together.”

“no backing out,” lilith added, and for a second you thought you’d melted

you smiled, relaxing. you felt it reach your eyes, a sense of belonging wandered around in the back of your mind.

breakfast continued and so did the conversation to more light-hearted topic. alicia’s and lilith’s excitement about the next hogsmeade trip, lucas’ plans for another elaborate prank on their dormmate, and maeve’s ongoing battle with peeves. you listened, laughed, and chimed in the conversation whenever you could.

maeve slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. “come on, y/n. let’s see if we can make it to flitwicks class before luca drags us to the kitchens for more pastries.”

“i resent that,” lucas called over his shoulder, “but i do want more pastries.”

you smiled and grabbed your bag as you followed them out of the great hall, trying to savour the last few minutes of peace before the day truly began.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡charms class:

when you arrived at the charms class it was buzzing with quiet energy as tired students filed in, quills and textbooks clutched in their hands. you took a seat next to maeve, on your left side - behind another desk with space in between you two, sat another girl - slytherin.

"good morning, everyone! today, we will be practicing summoning charms - accio!" professor flitwick said loudly, standing on a stack of books at the front of the class, as he clapped his hands to get the attention of all the students.

an exciting murmur passed through the room. you realised how in their fifth year they learn about summoning spells in this timeline, while in harry's timeline you learned more defensive spells, or memory spells. the difference was huge.

summoning charms were pretty basic, but growing up in times like you did, you almost had no time getting used to a simple spell like accio, while you could easily obliviate someone or use the patronus charm.

"partner up!" flitwick instructed. you turned to look at maeve, who was already grinning at you.

"i've been practicing this all week," maeve said, wiggling her eyebrows. "let's see if i can summon a bigger thing than a quill this time."

"alright, but if you summon a desk by accident, you're responsible ," you teased her, setting your wand on your desk.

meave pointed her and at one of the cushions flitwick had left for practice. "accio cushion!" she shouted, her wans slicing through the air.

the cushion zoomed toward her, though it wobbled slightly before landing in her arms. "not bad, right?"

you clapped lightly, "that was impressive!"

maeve jokingly gave a little bow to you, "your turn!"

you focused on a cushion that was lying a few feet away, envisioning it flying smoothly into your hands. after a flick of your wand, you called out, "accio cushion!"

the cushion shot toward you with more speed than you expected, hitting you on your chest slightly and it knocked you back slightly. you laughed catching it just in time. maeve bursted into giggles beside you.

"well, at least it's working," you said with a grin, putting the cushion down, you glanced around the room and caught sight of tom. he was practicing at the far end of the classroom. he performed the spell flawlessly, his cushion gliding into his hands with barely a flick of his wrist. his focus was intense, almost unnerving.

you quickly turned towards maeve again, not wanting to dwell on him.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡potions class:

the potion classroom in the dungeons was dark and cool, the only source of light was flickering. a mushy and earthy scent of ingredients filled the air as you sat down next to alicia at one of the tables near the back.

"right," alicia said, pulling out her ingredients. "i've got a good feeling about today's potion. we're supposed to make something simple, so there's no way i can accidentally melt my cauldron like last week."

you snickered. "simple or not, i still think you have a way to make the easiest potions chaotic."

before alicia could respond, professor slughorn's jovial voice boomed across the room. "today, my dear students, we will be brewing a calming draught. quite useful for, uh, stressful situations." he winked at the class. "i'm sure none of you feel stressed, though."

you could feel the irony of the assignment, given how much stress you were actually under without anyone really knowing. you could probably use a calming draught or two just to get through the day.

slughorn's face was surrounded with enthusiasm as he demonstrated the first few steps, his eyes darting over the class with interest. you gathered the ingredients you needed and carefully measured out the valerian root, hellebore syrup and the fluxweed oil.

"so, you think slughorn's going to invite you to one of his little parties?" alicia asked as she ground some peppermint into powder.

you shrugged, keeping your focus on your cauldron as you stirred it clockwise. "not very likely. i don't really know what those parties are even about," you lied. you went to one meeting with hermione, and decided to never go again. simply a waste of time.

alicia raised an eyebrow, "well, slughorn kinda 'collects' talented students. you're smart, plus you're new and kind. so, i'd say you're prime slug club material."

you smiled at her, "we'll see," you said quietly. "plus, i think riddle is in slug club," alicia whispered.

you almost spilled the peppermint that you were trying to add into your potion. "sorry, what?" you gaped at her. she scoffed at you and smiled, "don't act dumb, i always see you looking at him."

your potion turned to a soft blue - that was a good sign. "what??? no i don't.." you mumbled and glanced over at alicia's cauldron, which was bubbling a little too vigorously.

"uh, alicia... are you sure you didn't add to much oil?" you asked her, eyeing the bubbles. "you're not getting out of this conversation, y/n," alicia said while she kept adding oil.

"no, no, i'm serious, look at those bubbles."

"oh, oops," alicia gasped, and quickly turned down the heat under her cauldron. "well, at least it's not melting this time."

you laughed softly, helping her adjust the potion before it boiled over. potions was always a mix of stress and humor with alicia. seems like you're not as slick as you thought you were.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡transfiguration class:

in dumbledore's class there was a different energy in the air. the room was spacious and bright, high arched windows were letting beams of sunlight in that illuminated against the desks. dumbledore was standing at the front. "today," dumbledore began, "we will attempt one of the more advanced transfigurations. turning inanimate objects into animals. quite the leap from last week's matchsticks to needles, wouldn't you say?"

maeve leaned over to you, whispering, "what if we give a four-legged animal six legs by mistake?"

you snickered quietly.

dumbledore waved his wand, and a stack of stones appeared on each of the student's desks. "your task today is to transform this stone into small creatures to your choosing. a mouse, perhaps, or a bird. be gentle, and focus."

you pointed your wand at the stone, visualizing a small bird. with clear focus, you flicked your wand, saying the incantation softly.

to your surprise, the stone started shifting, wings sprouting from its sides as it transformed into a tiny sparrow. it fluttered its wings confused before hopping onto your desk.

"well, aren't you just the star pupil," maeve teased with a grin. she was still poking at her half-transformed stone, which looked more like a stone with some fur on it.

from the front of the class, dumbledore's eyes met yours briefly, and he gave a small approving nod. you continued helping maeve, when you caught a glimpse of tom riddle a few rows ahead. his magic was perfect - obviously. the stone in from of him had turned into a sleek, black raven that perched on his desk with eerie calm.

you sighed, forcing yourself to focus more on maeve and her furry rock. there would be plenty of time to think about tom later, but the time was ticking and you knew it.

shadow, the cat that you'd taken in, padded silently beside you as you made your way to the library. you smiled down at him, shadow had proven to be nothing more than a sweet, lovely companion. the cat had followed you everywhere except for classes.

"you like books, don't you?" you murmured to the cat as you entered the library, earning a few curious glances from other students. shadow flicked his tail and trotted ahead of you, his sleek form disappearing between two towering bookshelves.

the library was quiet and warm, even after dinner. the air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. you loved it in the library, it felt like a sanctuary, a place where time stood still.

wandering through the shelves you scanned the spines of he books you passed. every so often, you'd glance behind you to make sure shadow was still with you. reaching a shelf tucked in a quiet corner of the library, you found a book you'd been looking for - the founder's legacy: a history of hogwarts. it was a book you needed for your muggle studies.

you pulled it down and tucked in under your arm, turning to leave the aisle - but when you did, you noticed shadow was gone. "shadow?" you called softly, careful not to disturb the other students. the silence of the library seemed to grow louder, your eyes searching for the black fur you had grown accustomed to.

frowning, you stepped out of the aisle, looking around for any sign of the cat. only a few students were scattered around the tables., their heads buried in their studies. then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him.

at one of the far tables, seated in his usual spot near the back of the library, was tom riddle.

with shadow.

your breath caught in your throat. the sleek black cat had made himself comfortable on the edge of tom's open book, his paws kneading the pages as he purred contentedly. tom didn't seem bothered by the interruption. in fact, he was watching the cat with an odd expression - almost as if he was amused, though his features remained calm and composed as always.

for a second, you just stood there, contemplating all your life's choices. seeing shadow so comfortable made your heart race. tom riddle, the person you were meant to change, was casually petting the cat you had taken in and it made your situation feel even more surreal.

but only you couldn't keep standing there forever, staring at tom riddle.

so, you summoned up your courage, and slowly walked over to the table, forcing yourself to remain calm even though you could feel your chest preparing for a panic attack.

"looking for this?" his voice was soft but cold as he gestured to the cat with a slight raise of his hand. shadow meowed happily and stretched out his paws, pushing against tom's book as if he had claimed it for himself.

hearing tom's voice changed something in you, a warm feeling spread through you.

"yes," you said, your voice steady - trying to ignore all the feelings you were feeling at once. "i didn't realize he'd wandered off."

tom's eyes lingered on you for a moment, studying you with the same unsettling intensity you'd noticed in class. then he looked back at the cat, one hand absently touching behind shadow's eaer. the cat purred louder, pressing into the touch as though he had always belonged there.

"he seems to like me," tom observed. you had to hold back a scoff, so you forced a smile. "he's a friendly one."

"i can see."

you weren't sure how to respond to that. you cleared your throat and stepped forward, reaching for shadow. "well, i should get him out of your way, he's probably disturbing your reading. or studying, or whatever..."

tom didn't move at first, and for a brief second you thought he might not let you take back your cat. but the, he pulled his hand back. shadow, oblivious to the tension, stretched lazily before hopping off the table and rubbing against your leg.

you cradled shadow in your arms as you tried to steady your nerves.

you felt tom's gaze linger on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his book, his expression unreadable. "be careful," he said, his voice low. "not everything that follows you is harmless."

you blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. was that a warning? or something more? before you could reply, tom had already turned the page of his book, his focus shifting away from you as though the conversation had never happened.

a chill ran down your spine as you hugged shadow closer. your heart was pounding in your chest and you turned around.

tom's cryptic words echoed in your thoughts. you were halfway to the library's entrance when you spotted lucas striding toward you, hands tucked in his pockets, that ever-present grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. he seemed completely at ease, as though the world was just a big joke waiting to be told.

"there you are!" he called out in a low voice, somewhat mindful of the library's strit silence policy. he walked right up to you, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face before flicking over to the spot where tom was sitting. "i saw you ever there, chatting with riddle."

"yeah.. shadow wandered over to him," you smiled slightly, still not fully calmed down, but lucas' presence helped a bit.

lucas smiled, "look, i'm just gonna say it: i've seen you stare at him with times, and you look like you've seen a ghost. whatever he's said to you-"

"he said something about not everything that follows you is harmless," you interrupted him, needing to get it off your chest.

"okay, stop. that's freakishly creepy," lucas gaped, stealing a glance at tom. "just.. try to ignore him. riddle's either got everyone thinking he's the hottest thing to walk these halls, or they think he's bloody weird."

your curiosity piqued, "and what do you think?"

lucas paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. his grin returned, "both."

you chuckled at his bluntness, "both?"

you walked out of the library, your book long forgotten on the table you were supposed to be studying at. "yeah, he's good looking. i mean, objectively speaking," lucas said. "but there's something about him that's off. like, he's too good at... well, everything. it's unnatural, people are drawn to him, but they're also.. i don't know, scared of him. you know? even if they don't want to admit it."

you nodded, thinking back how tom had looked at you - the way his eyes seemed to see right through you. there was definitely something unnerving about him. "he's strange. almost like he's always one step ahead of everyone."

"exactly," lucas agreed. "it's like he's playing a game no one else knows the rules to. trust me, best to keep your distance."

"i wasn't planning on making friends with him," you said, shifting shadow in your arms. the cat blinked lazily up at you.

"good, i've got enough trouble without having to rescue you from the dark and mysterious Tom Riddle," lucas replied, giving you a reassuring smile.

you let out a laugh, "thanks, lucas. i'll be sure to tell you first if i fet in over my head."

lucas grinned, "i'll be there, wand at the ready."

the two of you started to head toward the common room together, the tension that had been knotted in your chest since your encounter with tom slowly began to ease. lucas had a way of making things feel lighter, like no matter how complicated the situation got, he’d find a way to make it less scary.

“anyway,” Lucas said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked, “enough about riddle. did you get what you came for? or are we heading back in for round two of ‘tom the cat whisperer’?”

you smirked, shaking your head. “no more rounds with him for today, thanks. i think i’ve had my fill of mysterious brooding for the time being. but i do think i might've left my book in there."

lucas laughed again, his voice carrying through the halls. “we'll get it first think tomorrow. and if you do like him, just don’t go falling for that whole dark-and-mysterious thing. i won't judge you.”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “please. you know i prefer my friends a little less brooding and a little more… fun.”

“see? that’s the right attitude.” he gave you a wink, his smile warm and genuine. “stick with me. i’m way more fun than some dark wizard-in-training.”

you couldn't help but smile back. as strange and intense as things had become, lucas was a constant source of light. maybe, just maybe, he’d help keep you grounded as you navigated the dangerous path ahead.

a/n: posted a bit earlier, but umm, i was thinking of naming the cat crookshanks first - so she has a reminder of hermione, harry and ron. but idk :( alsooooo, i'll probably update on sunday for this serie (loads of homework)

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[lunaritex]

CHASING REDEMPTION. . .ᐟ — kinich.

—✩ content: modern+spiderman au, established relationship, reader is gender-neutral, both reader and kinich are in college, reader knows kinich’s true identity, angst with comfort, character death.

—✩ author's note: ever since i saw this one edit of peter parker jumping down to save gwen… i knew what i had to do, except there is a small twist at the end. @kazuhaiku

Kinich swore he had planned the entire process in his mind. Everything was in place and all he needed was to be mentally and physically prepared to tell you the truth. But no matter how many plans he came up with, he did not take into account how a sudden robbery happened, resulting in him having to leap into action. He did not take into account how the robbery was not what it seems, with the robbers more than prepared to stand their grounds. They were armed with dangerous weapons that one could only obtain through illegal means. 

One thing led to another and he ended up arriving hours later than the agreed time. Kinich arrived at the agreed venue for your date and he was not surprised to spot no sign of you. He pointedly ignored the pitiful look the staff threw his way when he left in a hurry. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he used his spiderwebs to zip across the sky, turning a blind eye to how some people stopped to glance at him. 

It took him exactly five minutes to arrive at the balcony of your apartment. He nimbly landed on his feet, peering through the windows as his eyes furiously scanned your room. He swore his heart shattered when he saw a lump laying on the bed, covered with a blanket from head to toe. 

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

You raised your head when you heard someone knocking on your window, revealing your swollen eyes and tearstained face. You frowned when you realized it was your boyfriend. A part of you wants to leave him outside but you knew he was too stubborn for his own good. Surrendering, you unreluctantly crawled out of bed and moved to the window stand, unlocking the lock and slid it open. Shivers ran down your spine when the freezing wind grazed your skin. 

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be busy saving the city or something?” You asked, the sarcasm dripping in your tone made Kinich winced. 

Normally, you would have felt remorse at how you snapped at him but you have had enough. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now. You can come back another time-”

“No, I know you’re mad at me and I want to talk about it now,” he interrupted.

And that was the final straw. 

“It’s always all about you, you, you! When have you ever thought about me!? I bet the thought of me sitting in a cafe or restaurant, waiting for my boyfriend for hours, only for him to never turn up has never crossed your mind! Do you know how downright humiliating it is for me to leave and how I have to tolerate the sympathy glances thrown my way, as I walk out of the place? I know you’re doing a good deed by saving the city but sometimes, I wish you could set aside some time for me.” 

Your voice cracked like a whip, startling Kinich into silence. The fire in your eyes was undeniable, a mix of betrayal and exasperation. He tried to respond but you didn’t let him. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It feels like you don’t even care about me anymore and this relationship is starting to feel one-sided,” your voice grew a notch softer, exhaustion evident in your voice; as if you had already given up trying to fight for something that was no longer there anymore. 

“If you’re not going to say anything, then I think it’s best to end this. Goodbye Kinich and I wish you the best of luck,” you forced a teary-eyed smile at him, sliding the door closed and pulling the curtains, not wanting to see him a second longer. 

Kinich on the other hand, was rendered speechless. He wanted to talk to you again but since it was clear you had cut the line, he had no choice but to respect your decision. After sparing your window one more glance, he zips away into the dark sky. 

~

The next three weeks passed slowly. Both of you were busy preparing for your final exams of the semester. No matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, you just cannot seem to stop thinking about Kinich. Random thoughts like ‘is he doing fine?’, ‘has he eaten?’ and sometimes ‘I hope he’s not hurt again…’. You have not consulted your group of friends about your relationship but judging from how he was not constantly by your side, they already knew what happened. 

Currently, you are heading home after spending hours cramped in the campus library. You were too exhausted to be mindful of your surroundings. You had no idea that you were being followed, until it was too late. 

“Mphmf-!?” 

Your startled shout was instantly muffled when a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your sight turned blurry after you accidentally inhaled something. The last thing you heard was a man saying something along the lines of using you as bait for Spiderman, before everything turned black. 

When you regained consciousness, it took all of your willpower to not scream at how you were dangerously dangling in the air. The only thing supporting you was the rope tightly tied around your waist. Your wrists were tied and held behind your back. You didn’t dare try to move about, not wanting the rope to snap into half. You looked around, squinting your eyes as you tried to make sense of where you were through the darkness. 

All you could see was long and rectangular-shaped steel bars and you knew you were on a construction site. The pockets of your jeans were empty, meaning your kidnappers must have taken your phone after you were knocked out. There was nothing much you could do, except to play the role of a waiting duck. You sighed, lowering your head to look down at the ground and for a split moment, the thought of death flew through your mind. 

“Look who’s awake? Are you getting anxious that Spiderman isn’t here yet?” A sinister voice pierced through the silence. 

You raised your head to see two armed and masked men approaching you, coming to a stop at the edge. One man has a muscular build while the other man was as thin as a branch. Not wanting them to know they have the upperhand, you merely remained silent and looked at them with a bored expression. 

“I won’t rely on him that much if I were you. I doubt he knows that you guys are waiting for him,” you replied. 

The muscular man laughed. “Hah! Nice try, kid. But we’ve managed to drop him a nice little text using your phone, telling him to meet us here at nine sharp. And if he doesn’t, then I guess you can say bye to that boyfriend of yours.” 

Your blood ran cold at his words. 

“I’m here now, let them go.” 

A familiar voice interrupted your brief conversation. The two men turned around and there he was; Spiderman in his glory. You knew Kinich was seething with rage, judging from how his fists were clenched tightly the moment he was informed that you were held hostage. The men smirked in triumph as they slowly approached him, leaving you there to observe the scene unfold by itself. 

“About time you show up. It’s time for revenge for what you did to my face,” the muscular man said, pointing at his masked face with his thumb as he pulled out a gun. You gulped when you saw how dangerous they looked. 

“I don’t remember doing such a thing to you, but perhaps it might be a good thing for you,” your ex(?) replied, and you would have snickered if not for your current situation. 

“How dare you! I should have killed you when I had the chance!” He roared, enraged and started running full speed at Kinich, with his fellow partner-in-crime hot on his heels. 

From your vantage point, you watched with bated breath, heart racing as Kinich faced off against the two heavily-armed men. The tension crackled in the air, thick and electric. Kinich moved with a mix of agility and determination, dodging a flurry of blows while keeping his focus sharp. You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he assessed the situation, calculating his next move.

Each clash of steel rang out, echoing in the stillness around them. The men were imposing, their weapons gleaming menacingly in the light, but Kinich stood his ground, a fierce intensity in his eyes. With every punch and counter, you felt your own pulse quicken. You could only watch, willing him to outsmart his opponents and to emerge from the intense battle unscathed. Just when the fight was about to hit the climax and the two men were on the verge of being defeated, the skinny man turned to you. 

You watched in pure horror as he raised his weapon, aiming at the rope and fired. Whatever happened next was in slow motion. Your vision made an abrupt turn to the right, as gravity took over your body and pulled you down. The high-pitched scream you let out was not enough to describe the pure fear pumping through your veins. You made eye contact with Kinich and you could imagine the look of disbelief mixed with horror behind the mask. 

“Kinich!”

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs as your body began its descent to the hard concrete ground at lightning speed. Kinich forced himself to move, dodging the poor attempts of the men trying to stop him. Just for good measure, he shot a few webs aimed at their limbs to prevent them from moving. He jumped off the edge without hesitation, reaching out his hand as he tried to grab you. 

“Hold on, I’m coming!” He shouted, pure desperation heard in his voice. 

With a swift, fluid motion, he shot his web toward you, the silken strands glistening in the air before they wrapped securely around your stomach. Before you could even react, he yanked you towards him, the world spinning as you felt the force of his pull. Just as you landed against him, he swung into the air, the rush of wind whipping past you. Your heart raced as he propelled you both over the danger, each swing taking you away from the chaos below.

He landed gracefully in a safe area, setting you down gently. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze—eyes fierce yet filled with concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, urgency in his voice, the adrenaline still coursing through him. You nodded, shaken but alive, gratitude swelling within you.

Your entire body was trembling like a fallen leaf. Kinich gently placed you on the ground, still holding you as your legs gave way. You remained still, the adrenaline and fear of experiencing close death still pumping through your veins as he removed the web from your frame, wincing at how some were still stuck on your clothes. None of you said a word after that, unsure of what to say to break the silence. 

“I-”

He wanted to speak, but you threw yourself at him, hugging him with a vice-like grip as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Kinich fumbled about due to your combined weight but he managed to catch himself before he could hit his head against the ground. He removed the gloves and pulled the mask off, placing them on the side as he returned the embrace. Your sniffles and sobs were the only thing occupying the silence and Kinich knew you were beyond terrified of what you had just gone through. 

“Hey, it’s fine now. You’re safe, don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured, speaking in a soft and gentle tone as he reassures you. He ran his hand through your hair; an action he knows you love by heart. 

“I was so scared… I thought I was going to die…” You whimpered through your tears as you moved away from him, resting your hands on his shoulders. 

“Kinich, I’m sorry for snapping at you. That wasn’t nice of me, especially when you are doing something good which is saving the city and people,” you apologized, but he shook his head. 

“You don’t have to apologize. You weren’t in the wrong, in fact, it should be me. I shouldn’t have neglected you to the point where you felt like the relationship had become one-sided. I promise you that from now on, I will give you more of my time,” he gave you a small smile, reaching out to wipe away the stray teardrop on your cheek. 

“But, I don’t want to get in the way of your duty,” you protested. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure the police can handle the troubles themselves for a day or more.” 

You chuckled and his features softened when he heard your laugh. You flinched when he suddenly carried you bridal-style in his arms after he stuffed his gloves and mask into his pocket. 

“Now that we’re done here, it’s time to go home, shall we?” He asked, looking down at you with a loving smile. 

“Indeed, we shall, Spiderman.”

[merwgue]

"Rhysand hasn't done anything wrong"

Here’s a breakdown of the actual legal crimes Rhysand could be charged with, based on real-world laws:

A Court of Thorns and Roses (Book 1)

1. Sexual Assault – Rhysand forces Feyre into non-consensual situations, including touching her and kissing her while under the influence of drugs.

2. Drugging/Administration of a Controlled Substance – He forces Feyre to drink faerie wine (a mind-altering substance), which removes her ability to consent and control her actions.

3. Kidnapping/False Imprisonment – Under the Mountain, Rhysand traps Feyre into a bargain that forces her to spend time with him, effectively limiting her freedom.

A Court of Mist and Fury (Book 2)

1. Sexual Harassment – Rhysand frequently engages in unwanted physical contact with Feyre, coercing her in various ways under the pretext of their bargain.

2. Psychological Abuse/Coercion – The manipulation and psychological control Rhysand exerts over Feyre could be classified as emotional abuse, which can carry legal ramifications depending on the jurisdiction.

A Court of Wings and Ruin (Book 3)

1. Trespassing – Rhysand repeatedly enters Tamlin’s lands without permission, which would be considered trespassing by legal standards.

2. Incitement to Violence/Sabotage – Rhysand knowingly encourages Feyre to sabotage the Spring Court while she’s undercover, which could lead to charges of inciting criminal behavior.

3. Attempted Murder (by Suggestion) – While not directly responsible, suggesting that someone (Tamlin) should kill themselves could be viewed as reckless endangerment or incitement to self-harm, which is illegal in many places.

A Court of Frost and Starlight (Novella)

1. Harassment – Rhysand's continued psychological harassment of Tamlin could potentially be charged as harassment, particularly given its persistent nature.

General Crimes Throughout the Series you can face up to a life sentence with :

1. Assault – Rhysand has a history of using his powers to physically and mentally harm others, especially when he forces Feyre into certain situations or physically manipulates her.

2. Torture – His treatment of the people in the Court of Nightmares, particularly through physical and psychological intimidation, could be considered torture or cruel and inhumane treatment under international human rights law.

3. Abuse of Power/Authority – Rhysand frequently abuses his position as High Lord, using his powers to manipulate, control, and coerce others, which could be considered an abuse of authority. (Hm hm, remember what happend to saddam Hussain?)

4. Kidnapping/False Imprisonment – By forcibly keeping Nesta in the House of Wind without her consent, Rhysand is restricting her freedom and movement. This can be legally classified as kidnapping or false imprisonment.

5. Endangerment of a Mentally Ill Person – Nesta is clearly dealing with severe trauma, depression, and possibly PTSD. Locking her up without proper care or therapy can be considered neglect and endangerment of someone with a mental illness, especially since she was using alcohol to cope. (Those teen-help programs.)

6. Illegal Detainment Without Licensing – The Night Court is not a rehabilitation facility, and Rhysand has no legal authority or medical qualifications to keep Nesta there against her will. This would violate laws that protect individuals with mental health issues from being detained in non-medical facilities by non-professionals.

4. Emotional and Psychological Abuse – Forcing Nesta into isolation and removing her autonomy could be seen as a form of emotional and psychological abuse, which has legal ramifications in many jurisdictions.

In a real-world legal system, these actions could be prosecuted as criminal offenses, including sexual assault, kidnapping, drugging, trespassing, harassment, and psychological abuse.

So yea, you're dear old boy would be in JAIL by now.

Now let's calculate The charges against Rhysand, if brought to a real-world court system, could lead to significant legal consequences. Let’s break down the potential sentences for each crime, based on common legal standards in many countries:

Possible Sentence: 5 to 20 years in prison, depending on the severity and jurisdiction.

1. Sexual Assault

Sexual assault is a serious crime, and the penalties are harsh, especially if the victim is incapacitated (e.g., under the influence of drugs, as Feyre was).

2. Drugging/Administration of a Controlled Substance

Possible Sentence: 2 to 10 years in prison.

Administering drugs to someone without their knowledge or consent is considered a felony in many places and carries a substantial sentence, especially when done to facilitate control or assault.

3. Kidnapping/False Imprisonment (Feyre and Nesta)

Possible Sentence: 10 to 30 years in prison.

Kidnapping, especially when it involves controlling someone’s freedom against their will (like forcing Feyre and Nesta into his control), carries one of the longest prison terms.

4. Endangerment of a Mentally Ill Person (Nesta)

Possible Sentence: 5 to 15 years in prison.

This charge involves negligence and the failure to provide proper care for someone in a vulnerable state. In this case, Rhysand locking Nesta up without professional help can result in significant legal consequences.

5. Harassment/Emotional and Psychological Abuse (Tamlin and Nesta)

Possible Sentence: 1 to 5 years in prison (for each offense).

Emotional abuse and psychological harassment can carry prison sentences if they lead to significant harm, especially if Rhysand’s actions contributed to worsening their mental states.

6. Trespassing (Spring Court)

Possible Sentence: 1 year or fines.

Trespassing, while a less severe crime, can result in fines or a brief prison sentence, depending on how frequently and aggressively it’s done.

7. Torture/Abuse of Power (Hewn City)

Possible Sentence: 10 to 25 years in prison.

Torturing or inflicting severe harm, even in a ruling capacity, could result in lengthy imprisonment under human rights laws.

8. Failure to Prevent Mutilation (Wing Clipping in Illyria):

Crime: Complicity in Mutilation/Assault – In many countries, allowing or failing to prevent acts of bodily harm, especially when in a position of power, can lead to charges of complicity or negligence. Clipping wings is comparable to physical mutilation.

Potential Sentence: 10 to 20 years per incident, depending on the severity of harm. Rhysand, as High Lord, could be held accountable for allowing this to continue in the military camps he oversees.

9. Endangerment of Women’s Rights:

Crime: Neglect and Discrimination – The continued allowance of these practices in Illyria could be viewed as a form of systemic discrimination and neglect. Failure to protect women from harm, despite having the power to intervene, would likely result in charges related to discrimination and endangerment.

Potential Sentence: Civil penalties and lawsuits from the affected women, alongside possible criminal charges leading to fines and 5 to 10 years imprisonment per case of systemic abuse.

10. Complicity in Abuse and Torture (Hewn City):

Crime: Torture/Degrading Treatment – As the ruler of the Night Court, Rhysand maintains direct control over the Hewn City but allows its brutal social system to continue, particularly against women. Even though he doesn't directly participate in the abuse, turning a blind eye to it could result in complicity in human rights abuses or crimes akin to torture, especially since Hewn City is described as being "hell for women."

Potential Sentence: 10 to 25 years in prison for each case of torture or degrading treatment, with possible civil lawsuits and heavy fines.

11. Denial of Safe Haven and Equal Rights:

Crime: Violation of Human Rights – Women from Hewn City are barred from escaping their abusive environments, and Rhysand’s refusal to allow them into Velaris essentially traps them in dangerous situations. In the real world, denying refuge or asylum to those in danger can be classified as a violation of human rights.

Potential Sentence: 5 to 10 years for human rights violations, with additional civil penalties from lawsuits if women can prove they were harmed as a result of being denied safety.

Crimes Against Humanity – While not on the same scale as mass genocide or war crimes, the endangerment of entire groups of women through neglect, allowing mutilation, or complicity in torture can still fall under human rights violations. Such crimes are serious, and while they may not lead to a death sentence, they would likely result in long-term imprisonment, potential international condemnation, and severe civil penalties.

Maximum Sentence: If these charges were to be tried separately and consecutively, Rhysand could face up to 80 to 100+ years in prison

Likely Sentence: In a real-world legal system, some of these sentences may be served concurrently (at the same time), leading to a likely total sentence of 25 to 40 years in prison, depending on how the crimes are classified and judged.

Additionally, he would likely face civil penalties, lawsuits from the victims (e.g., Feyre and Nesta), and substantial fines.

Thank you for reading, if you want me to do any other character just say in the comments!❤️ (this took me over 2 days to research but I had my amazing dad helping me!♥️)

[101suouexpressions]

Graffiti behind Umemiya and the class 1-1 representative

The way these are two consecutive chapters is really begging us to look into it, isn't it?

Chapter 38: The Four Kings

On this cover, we can immediately spot the graffiti of four skeletons on the wall behind Umemiya, and it's not hard to understand that it's referencing the four Boufuurin Kings, as suggested in the title. But which one is which?

The skeleton on the top left could be Mizuki, as we can see that it's holding a laptop, representing information control, which suits Mizuki's role. To his right, from the high heel hanging from the skeleton's fingertip, we can safely assume that it's Tsubaki. Below her, at the bottom right corner, with the spray can, is Momose. And last but not least, at the bottom left, is Hiiragi.

One observation to back up this assumption is the skeletons' horns. If we assume that the kings who are physically stronger have two horns, then it'd be fitting for Hiiragi and Tsubaki as their strength had been put on display, as we don't know as much about Mizuki and Momose.

One thing that keeps bugging me is the drawing on Hiiragi's phone. I'm not sure if it's just a random drawing that someone graffiti-ed over the actual drawing or it has a meaning, and I wasn't able to find any information on it, so if anybunny has an idea please share the knowledge! :3

Chapter 37: One step

Here, we have a direct view of the graffiti at the back of classroom 1-1. The drawing is a reference to the traditional Japanese painting Wind God and Thunder God (by Tawaraya Sōtatsu, from the 17th century). On the left is Raijin, the god of lightning and thunder, and to the right is Fujin, the god of wind, which orderly corresponds to Suou and Nirei. The two gods, just like Suou and Nirei, are oftenly depicted together.

Comparing

1. Signs of time

The Boufuurin Kings graffiti on the left is old, with scratches and leftovers of attempts to paint something else over it. On the other hand, the Fujin and Raijin painting is almost anew.

This clear contrast implies the change in Bourfuurin's core members. As Umemiya and the four kings are graduating next year, the leading roles are shifting towards the newer, younger members.

2. The presence of characters (or lack thereof)

In chapter 38's cover, there is only Umemiya with his kings painted on the wall behind him, while in chapter 37's, both Suou and Nirei – Sakura's vice captains – are present, hinting a more direct involvement from the supporting positions to their leader. We can see this by putting Umemiya's and Sakura's relationship with their vice captains. For Umemiya, he is mature and independent, while Sakura is less so, meaning that he will have to depend more on his vice captains, whether emotionally or strategically.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Ghost Dreamwalker wind au

Fanfic prompt: Considering that wind got his ability to see ghosts in a dream

What if in order to see ghosts in real life he has developed the method of livid-sleepwalking (which essentially means that the person has their eyes open and a bit of processing ability but still is functionally asleep and does extra weird shit)

And the chain got the “joy” to experience wind at his most deranged

Like Time is sleeping together with Malon when suddenly something scratches the door from outside

Opens it up and then wind just wakes him up with shit like :

“It’s... under the river, where the stars can’t swim,’

‘You have to burn the red thread before it knots, or the moon will forget to rise

He wants his face back and I am afraid…umh..no good”

Then before time even gets the chance to process the words he just heard wind is already between both of them and not waking back up

He knew nothing about the subject next day

But then it just kept happening with everyone while Wind was (they know now) sleepwalking

Legend gets his lost lovers entire back story from Wind (and he is also have a crisis over it because how the hell did wind get Marin’s name right her dad's name and why the hell does he know about the whale god)

Wild gets “HIS” backstory from Wind while Carrying him on his back and not being capable of giving him to someone else

He hasn’t slept well that night

Wind always looks like a doll when he is busy with terrorizing everyone and it makes him more cryptic

When four hears wind continuously tell people that his shadow is kinda gone because of his mirror

He was starting to think that maybe

Just maybe wind isn’t just making stuff up while only half lucid

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Home to Thrive In

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!neighbor!reader

Summary: You still live next door to Tim Bradford's mother, and when he visits for the first time in years, you have to decide if you're willing to let go of the idea of him you fell in love with.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for 4x09 "Breakdown", angst, arguments, discussion of past abuse, r is Tim's childhood friend, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: It's late. This may be terrible. I will reassess tomorrow.

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Have you talked to Mom recently?” Genny asks. When Tim doesn’t answer, she sighs and murmurs, “Don’t know why I thought you would.”

“Isn’t it bad enough that you’re dragging me back into the Tom Bradford-centric world I’ve been trying to outrun since we were kids? Now you want me to tell Mom about everything that’s happened,” Tim argues. “I’m already working on a murder case that Dad hid for decades. I don’t need more family drama right now, Genny."

“She worries about you, Tim. Just wants to be part of your life again.”

Tim's phone rings, a saving grace, and he excuses himself as he pushes his chair away from the table and leaves his sister.

“Tim,” Lucy greets. “I brought Monica Ochoa back in.”

“The woman who was killed by the gun I found in my dad’s house. Why?”

“Because I knew there was more to her story. You- you couldn’t see past the version that you wanted to see.”

“What’d she say?”

“Your dad… Tim, Monica confessed.”

Tim hangs up on Lucy, walks directly past his sister while ignoring her questions, and gets in his truck to visit his dad. To see if he’ll tell the truth when he has no other choice or if he’s really the terrible man Tim thinks he is.

“You didn’t kill Frank,” Tim states.

Tom sighs before he counters, “Sure I did. Now, come on. Cuff me. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Monica confessed.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“Frank was beating her. She fought back. She shot him. She was terrified, so she ran to you. You came up with the burglary story, helped her stage the house, then you hid the gun in case the cops got too close, and you needed to frame someone else.”

“He was brutal, abusive,” Tom explains. “She deserves a medal for what she did.”

“He was abusive?” Tim repeats.

“What? You think I’m like him? I was nothing like Frank. I taught you what you needed to know, son. You’re a man now because of me.”

“No. I’m who I am in spite of you,” Tim replies. His dad doesn’t speak, and Tim nods as he adds, “Goodbye, Dad. I hope it hurts.”

In the hallway outside his dad’s room, Tim pulls his phone from his pocket and calls Grey.

“Bradford,” Wade greets as the call connects.

“I need to take some personal time,” Tim says instead of a salutation.

“Lord knows you’ve stashed up enough of it. Where are you going?”

“To see someone I should’ve visited a long time ago.”

“You did the right thing, Tim. Take your time and know we’re here for you when you get back.”

Tim ends the call, then texts his sister that he’s taking her advice. He hasn’t been home to his mom’s house in years, and he needs her, needs space from his family and his station, and needs to work through the events of the week on his own. Though he isn’t sure if he’s welcome or if his mother's new home will feel the same as it did fifteen years ago, Tim gets in his truck and drives toward the last place he felt at home.

Your evening walk is refreshing, and the sunset helps you focus on the beauty of the day as you wind down.

“Sweetheart!” your neighbor calls, waving from her porch.

“Mrs. Bradford,” you greet with a smile as you step onto her walkway. “How are you today?”

“Good, good. Talked to Genny earlier, she’s visiting Tim.”

You smile and nod, unwilling to touch the sensitive subject of Tim. Growing up with him, you saw the worst parts of his childhood, home life, and father, but that never added up to you. He ran away from his mother, from love and home just to outrun bad memories. A task you know to be impossible.

“How was your book?” you ask, moving away from Mrs. Bradford’s stressful family life. “Did you finish it last night?”

“I did. You were right, the twist at the end was a shock. I thought the vigilante did it!”

“Interesting,” you muse. “I was torn between him and the builder.”

Mrs. Bradford hums before her oven beeps.

“You take care of that,” you say as you wrap your arms over her shoulders in a quick hug. “We’ll talk about the book and start the sequel on Saturday?”

“Count on it. Have a good night!”

“You too!”

Headlights reflect off your front door as you push it open, but you don’t bother to turn around and see who it is. Two of your neighbors get home around this time, and there aren’t many visitors or tourists in your area. So, when you’re closing the curtains and notice an unfamiliar truck in Mrs. Bradford’s driveway, you decide to watch and ensure everything is okay.

“Tim!” Mrs. Bradford calls excitedly as the driver’s door opens. She rushes out and pulls him into a hug, and from the way he grips her and buries his face against her shoulder like he’s eight again, you know that this isn’t just a sorry I stopped calling, Mom visit. Something happened and that’s the only reason he’s home.

“Welcome home, Tim,” you whisper before you pull the curtains together and put the distance you’re used to back between you and Tim.

You kneel by your front door to tie your shoes. Then you untie them and loop the laces differently. Knowing that Tim Bradford is next door makes you hesitate to go outside. Yet, you don’t want to let him impact your life more than he already has. It wouldn’t be surprising to learn that his mother already told him about your downward spiral, how you fell apart when he left without so much as a word. As a kid, you fell in love with Tim Bradford, and you stayed in love with the idea of him in high school. Then, when he disappeared without a word or trace, and you only found out that he was a cop for the LAPD through his sister, you decided that the idea of him was as good as you would ever get.

“You can do this,” you tell yourself as you stand and lay your hand on the doorknob. “It’s just the man who has occupied your every thought for years. Just walk by.”

The magnitude of your mistake hits you in full force when you’re nearly past Mrs. Bradford’s fence. Tim says your name and your heart clenches at the realization that you remembered his voice so well. Years of hearing it in your dreams will preserve your memory like that.

“Tim,” you reply, swallowing as you face him. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

“It wasn’t exactly the plan. Genny showed up and everything just kind of blew up in my face.”

Kind of like what you put me through, you think. Rather than saying it, you nod sympathetically.

“Did my mom… did she tell you about my dad?”

“Tim, your mom tells me a lot. But no one close to your mom has brought him up in years.”

“Wish my sister had gotten that message,” Tim scoffs.

“I hope you enjoy the time with your mom,” you interrupt. “But I’ve got to get going.”

“Right,” Tim agrees. “I’ll see you around.”

You nod but feel your chest tighten as you hope he’s wrong. Losing Tim Bradford again is not an option, so you refuse to let him closer than he needs to be.

“I didn’t know she moved with you, still lived next door,” Tim muses as his mother ushers him inside for breakfast.

“You don’t know much,” she points out, not unkindly but not untrue. “She knows more than you. I’ve told her everything Genny passed along. You were so close as kids.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees before he trails off. He remembers being friends, but not the kind of friends that would ask about each other. “I don’t think she wants to talk to me.”

“Well, you can hardly blame her.”

“What does that mean?”

Tim’s mother looks at him and presses her lips together. He has her eyes, but he doesn’t have her understanding or the intuition about people she tried to instill in him when his father wasn’t trying to teach him to be a man.

“If you can’t see it, Tim, it’s too late to explain it. She’s coming over for lunch and our duet book club tomorrow. You have thirty hours to read the book if you want to participate.”

“Thank you for letting me come home, Mom.”

She lays her hand on Tim’s shoulder and promises, “You’re always welcome here, Timothy.”

You knock on Mrs. Bradford’s door while Tim’s truck is gone. With one of her signature ceramic loaf pans in your hands, filled with your favorite cookies, you wait for the door to open to return her dish and offer some goodies.

“Sorry to…” you begin as the door opens. “Oh, Tim. Sorry, your truck was gone so I assumed your mom would be here.”

“She borrowed my truck to do something that she refused to have help for. Come on in.”

Tim opens the door for you, and for reasons beyond your comprehension, you accept his invitation and walk inside. After you set the pan on the counter, you turn around to leave, but Tim is leaning against the table and watching you.

“Enjoying your time off?” you question, wringing your fingers together behind your back.

“I am. Especially after the last case I worked on,” Tim answers. “My mom hasn’t told me much about you.”

You hum and look at your feet as you reply, “Not much to tell.”

“She seems to tell you a lot.”

“Look, Tim, I’m just trying to respect your boundaries. She told me that your dad was involved in something, a murder, but it’s not my business.”

“Frank Ochoa,” Tim interjects.

You furrow your brows as you ask, “Monica’s husband? But that was a robbery.”

Tim tilts his head to the side as he says, “My dad admitted to killing him. He was protecting Monica.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“What?”

Tim stands from the table, his crossed arms falling to his sides. “You knew something and didn’t tell anybody, didn’t you?”

“Tim, I-“

“Look, I’ve been lied to by too many people this week. You still have the same tell you did in elementary school. What did you know?���

You clench your jaw and step to the right to go around Tim, but he moves to block you, and rather than running into his chest, you retreat further into Mrs. Bradford’s kitchen.

“This case – the people there – have been lied to, we’ve been wrong, there’s been no justice for decades. And you’ve known something the whole time? How can you live with that?”

“How can I live with it?” you repeat incredulously. “How was I – a child, Tim – supposed to go to the police and tell them that I saw Frank beating Monica over and over? They wouldn’t have believed me!”

“You didn’t try!”

“Yes, I did!” you yell. Wiping the single tear that managed to escape in your memories of the only time you tried to help your neighbors, you lose some of your fight.

“Doesn’t seem like you tried very hard,” Tim adds under his breath.

You laugh once and shake your head. “I told the police your dad was beating you, Tim. You know what happened? They came and asked him about it. He denied everything. After they left, he took you out into the backyard and demanded to know who you told. So, see if you can wrap your cop brain about why I was scared to tell on someone else.”

“I didn’t know you-“

“You didn’t know anything, Tim.”

Tim scoffs and argues, “Oh and you know so much about who I am now because of what my sister tells my mom?”

“At least I talk to your mom, Tim,” you snap. Immediately, you regret it. “I’m sorry,” you offer.

“I couldn’t,” Tim defends.

“Did you try?”

Tim’s truck rumbles as his mother returns from the store, and you hold Tim’s stare until the engine shuts off.

“Can I leave now, or do you want to blame me for something else?”

Tim steps back and opens his mouth, but you storm past him before he can say anything else. You return to your house after you hug Mrs. Bradford and tell her about the cookies. The idea of Tim Bradford that you’ve clung to since childhood is growing fuzzy around the edges, and alone in your house, you cry over what he told you today, the mistakes you made, and the loss of the Tim you were born to love.

Someone knocks on your door the following morning, and you stare at it rather than walking toward it.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” Mrs. Bradford calls.

With a sigh, you stand and invite her in, not caring if she notices your teary eyes or unusual attitude.

“I thought you might want someone to talk to. Somewhere away from my son,” she explains as she leads you to your dining table. “So, I brought food and company. Choose what you want.”

“It’s not just Tim,” you explain. “I mean… he was right, but it’s different.”

“Different than when you fell in love with him?” she guesses.

You look up at her, wide-eyed at her question. She smiles and gestures for you to continue.

“I’ve been dreaming about him coming back, thinking that we could pick up where we left off, but he’s nothing like what I remember.”

“Time will do that,” she soothes, taking your hand over the table.

“It didn’t do it to me.”

“Sweetheart… you didn’t let it. I love you, you know that, but you cling so tightly to the past, to the familiar, that you haven’t allowed yourself to adapt to the beauty of the growth and changes around you. Haven’t even let yourself show the woman you’ve become.”

You lick your lips before sniffling and asking, “What if I don’t like it?”

“But what if you thrive in it?”

Wiping the back of your free hand across your face, you clear your tears and nod. You know that Mrs. Bradford is right, but you also know that there will be pain in the beauty when you choose to move forward.

“Does he hate me?” you whisper.

“Timothy? I don’t think he could ever hate you.”

“He can sure blame me for a lot, though,” you point out with a wet laugh.

“Beating himself up over that at the moment, if you’re wondering. And, when you’re ready to talk to him, maybe you should try getting to know who he is today.”

You nod and pull a homemade candy from her special-made meal. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, are we going to keep crying over silly boys or try to solve a murder mystery on a pioneer plantation?”

Dressed in your favorite outfit, you shift from foot to foot on Mrs. Bradford’s porch as you try to get your courage up. Just as you lift your hand to knock, a throat clears behind you. You spin around quickly, then release a breath and press your hand over your racing heart.

“You could have told me you were back there sooner,” you point out softly.

“I wanted to see where this was going,” Tim answers, closing his tailgate. “Listen, about the other day-“

You raise your hand to silence Tim and shake your hand. “I came over here to talk to you. About more than that. Do you maybe want to go somewhere to do that?”

Tim nods and opens the passenger door of his truck, offering his hand as he helps you in without a word. The drive to the local high school football field is quick but silent, and when you exit the truck and join Tim on the tailgate to watch the sunset, you take a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that with your dad, the house, Frank, all that,” you begin. “But I’m sorrier that I didn’t do more back then.”

Tim nods and says, “You were right. They wouldn’t have listened, or it would’ve spooked my dad and made everything worse.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” You look at Tim’s profile and ask, “Are you okay?”

“No,” he admits without hesitation. “My dad was protecting Monica. He never did anything to protect us, but his mistress – broke half a dozen laws for her.”

“I knew that, too,” you whisper. “My mom made me stop sitting by the door after that year, which was probably a good thing. Uhm, are they going to prosecute your dad?”

“No. Not on his death bad. But it doesn’t matter. He’ll get judged soon enough.”

You nod, your eyes still on Tim rather than the pink sunset before you. His eyes have teared up, and everything inside of you begs for you to just let go.

“Tim, you’re nothing like him. You know that, right?”

Tim nods a tiny movement that breaks your heart. This isn’t the Tim you remember, not the Tim from elementary school or the one who was punished for your ill-conceived attempt to help. Most importantly, you realize, this isn’t the Tim you’ve dreamed of loving. Tim Bradford, the man before you, is who you can love, want to love, and desperately, wholly, devastatingly need to love.

With a deep breath, you release everything you’ve been holding onto. Your grip on your dreams, on your memory of Tim and what you thought you wanted, and the moment that trapped you in your position of being terrified to do the wrong thing in your efforts to do good weakens, and you feel like a flower in bloom. Everything seems new, the possibilities are endless, and you’re a new person who isn’t afraid to do right, even when it terrifies you and carries the potential to break your heart.

“Tim,” you whisper.

He turns toward you, drawn by the tone in your voice, and blinks past his tears. You shift on his tailgate and raise your arms toward his shoulders. Tim leans forward and meets you halfway, pulling you into his lap as you collapse into a hug that heals the broken edges of who you are. With Tim’s arms against your back and waist, you feel more at home than ever, and he feels the same. His mother’s house was never the home he was returning to, but a pursuit for this feeling, right in your arms.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur against his shoulder.

He shakes his head, tightening his grip on you, and this version of you - unafraid, complete in Tim Bradford’s arms - is ready to thrive. You won’t heal overnight; neither of you will, but it’s a start.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Tim laughs against your neck before he pulls back gently to retrieve his phone from his pocket.

“My mom,” he tells you. “If you haven’t kissed her yet, what are you waiting for? Another set of wrinkles?”

You fail to stop the laugh that escapes at Mrs. Bradford’s bluntness. Then, you realize how glad you are that he’s reading her text messages.

“Well?” you ask. “Should we kiss or wait for more wrinkles?”

Tim pushes a stray hair out of your face and promises, “None of it was your fault.”

You nod and thank him, then brush your thumbs against his cheeks. “Last time we were on a field together, it was raining. I also wanted you to kiss me then.”

“You never told me.”

“How was I supposed to tell you that, Tim?” you ask. “I… I was caught up in an idea of who we could be, and I was scared to ruin it by doing something new.”

“And now?”

Rather than asking for what you want, you take it as you lean forward and kiss Tim. One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, and the first raindrop feels suspiciously like a teardrop as it runs down your face and onto Tim’s. You laugh as you run toward the truck doors, thunder rumbling as a storm approaches from the west. In the truck with Tim, you find yourself face-to-face with a better version of the dream life you craved in Tim’s absence.

Bonus:

“Get inside, it’s going to start raining again!” Mrs. Bradford calls from the kitchen when she hears the door open. “Don’t need you catching a cold on your time off, Timothy.”

You press your lips together and smile at Tim, who is drenched after offering you his jacket to hold over your head in a poor attempt to stay somewhat dry.

“She’s going to mother you, too,” he points out.

“Hey, I’m used to it,” you reply. “Like it, even.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Bradford murmurs as she appears in the doorway. “Go get dried off and change, Tim.”

After he disappears into his room, Mrs. Bradford offers you a towel and a change of clothes. She smiles as she leans in and says, “Flowers that thrive need plenty of rain to grow, you know.”

[lacyssturns]

YOURE LOSING ME! ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

synopsis : reader and nate are secretly dating. reader wants to go public but nate doesn’t want to. can this make serious damage in their relationship?

pairing : sls! reader and nathan doe

warnings : angst , fighting , use of y/n, unresolved angst

“a pathological people pleaser, who only wanted you to see her”

nate had asked me to come over so we could talk. recently our relationship has been off, and distant. a week ago we got into a huge argument that landed up with me walking out.

FLASHBACK

“y/n you just don’t get it!” nate raised his voice, using his right hand to talk with him. “get what nate, i honestly don’t understand.” i yelled back.

he sighed, rubbing his hand against his forehead in stress, “im just not ready to go public yet okay? can we please move on from this?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing as he slightly shook his head.

“you have been saying that for the past YEAR nate?! why! why! you never give me a full understanding of why this must be so secretive, especially to my own brothers.” at this point im just begging, begging for answers.

suddenly, nate slams his hands against the wooden table causing me to flinch backwards. “because y/n im embarrassed.” the tears that were threatening to fall, then suddenly came out. “im embarrassed to be dating someone 2 years younger than me, someone i grew up with and i saw as my little sister for the longest time ever.”

the vision of nate infront of me was blurred out by the tears streaming down my face, “okay then if that’s how it is then im leaving.”

FLASHBACK ENDED

ever since that night i’ve been stuck in bed. nate’s words were stuck with me, they circled around my head creating a tornado that felt as if it was never ending.

my brothers all tried cheering me up or figuring out what was wrong but i just couldn’t get myself to tell them the honest truth.

now here i am, standing infront of nate’s door shivering from the icy wind. once i hear the door open i look up from my shoes. there’s nate, messy hair, puffy red eyes and a black hoodie with matching pajama pants we bought together.

“uhm hi” he said to me quickly moving to the side so i can move past him. i gave him a little smile while walking in, being enveloped with the warm air.

nate led me to the couch and once we sat together at least 2 other people could sit in the distance we had between eachother.

we sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the small time we’re spending after a week.

“y/n, i love you so much please never doubt that. i know you’ve been wanting to go public with us and i told you my reason why we shouldn’t. i regret telling you that because im not embarrassed by you..” nate told me, just as i was about to open my mouth he continued, “but..i can’t give you everything you want sometimes especially opening up to your brothers about our relationship.”

i felt as if my heart was ripped out of me and crushed down onto the ground, “what..” i whispered as he just nodded at me, not even making eye contact. “so are you saying that we’re..” he interrupts me to finish my sentence, “over.”

my breath was taken away as i scooted closer to him, “no nate what? please i can’t lose you! if you don’t want to tell my brothers that’s okay but please don’t leave me.”

nate inched himself away from me, causing a pain in my chest, “im sorry y/n..”

i couldn’t breathe, i could barely breathe. my mouth open but yet no words coming out. i feel a sudden sob start to come out me, letting out what was needed. i feel nate lean in to put his arms around me but i stand up.

“no, please..don’t touch me.” i murmured loud enough for him to hear. i grabbed my small bag off of the couch, rushing to get out of the place that used to feel like a second home.

getting into my car, i take one last glance at him. he’s standing in the door way staring, no emotion on his face… nothing. i quickly drive away.

i pull over a few blocks away from nate’s home. breathing uncontrollably, feeling the tears drip down onto my bare legs and head resting against the driving wheel.

⋆˚࿔ the end 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

@jetaimevous @mbbsgf @mattsdirtylittlehoe @valentinasturniolo @blahbel668 @memea32221 @ellelovessturniolo @ifwdominicfike @dominicfikeenthusiast @sunrisemill @mattsdolll @444alexis @frnkocnlvr

[menacenearby]

Another LU (Au??) idea drop, lesgo 👏💥

So basically the chain is reincarnated into the modern world, all of them are some kind of students, are working somewhere, going to school and all that bull

They meet by chance, the snowball effect where from one person you meet another and so they made a circle where suddenly at some point everyone knows everyone

THE CATCH is that not a single one of them knows they're named Link

Everyone uses their nicknames they've given themselves but they don't know that. They just treat them as their names, etc. The thing is, the longer they know each other someone suddenly catches onto something that starts to make less and less sense to 'em the longer they think about it (I'm thinking Wind? Maybe Hyrule catches onto something idk) and so they confront each other 'bout it

Soon tho they realize something is fucking wrong because WHY would [Chain member who realized something is sus] come to the person they barely know and met not that long ago. And what's up with this sudden feeling of... Feeling safe around them? Safe enough to come to them and tell them something so important, they barely know each other! What if they think they're nuts–

But no. (I'm thinking of Four who also thinks something's wrong but doesn't immediately tell it to anyone) It's right here, something's *wrong* and when they share it with everyone they start to realize some things in their world doesnt make ANY fucking sense

(That's the point where they try questioning their "names" because what, Legend? Fucking who names their child Legend! Warriors? Even worse! What the fuck is wrong with this name????)

AND boom balang nyoom, it turns out they're all stuck in a time loop. In a world that was hero-less, and where there wasn't any danger, they came to the world where Hylia wasn't even remembered anymore alongside any kind of heroes, villains, etc.

Everything is treated as fables, BUT there IS a Ganon roaming through these lands. He's just minding his own business and working a normal job lmfao

What Chain HAS to do in order to come back and resume their adventure is to make Ganon from this world become the "bad guy of the century" so they could either defeat him or be sent back to their respectful times so this world could get a Link on its own

AS YOU CAN GUESS, not all of the members are agreeing with this line of thought. Some think it's inevitable and decide to process with the plan to make Ganon snap. Others think it's bullshit and they clearly shouldn't interfere in the world where the cycle has been clearly stopped

The story progresses further and they're either going to find a way to come back on their own and leave Ganon alone OR abode by the worlds (Maybe Hylia's, maybe some other Gods???) rules and make Ganon help them by him becoming an actual threat (Be it willing or unwillingly)

There are so many possibilities and ways this shit could go heLP-

[mantisgodsdomain]

More notes for Roach conlanging. Roach has grammatical gender, in which only Male, Female, and Object are grammatical genders, whereas Worker uses feminine grammar, Queen and King use a slight variant on feminine grammar, and Drone, and Queen-Alate use masculine grammar. This is because King is derived from Queen, due to their similar positions in a colony, and Queen-Alate is derived from Drone, as both are forms of alate.

Queen is an alteration of feminine grammar that functionally just adds a handful of extra syllables to it, and King is an offsprout of Queen that uses the same grammar with different pronouns. Queen-Alate, despite the name, is derived from Drone, as they are both for referring to different types of alate ant.

Most Roach dialects are intelligible to speakers of Snakemouth Den Cordyceps Roach, but Snakemouth Den Cordyceps Roach is not entirely intelligable to speakers of Roach dialects due to a mix of the excessively specialized vocabulary caused by the specific needs of its speakers, the fact that its speakers do not necessarily have Roach mouthparts and thus may not pronounce syllables in a similar way, and due to the fact that Inanimate Object is a full grammatical gender that does not exist in any other dialect of roach and replaces a decent chunk of terminology for things that previously had Other Words For Them.

[imflyingfish]

.

[rivilu]

disjointed fandom posting sorry but it just hit me that pwotr is like. the only rpg where a companion never once left my team

[samiferboy]

i am not immune to the idea of s1-2 samifer

[aethergate]

i have too many vanitas headcannons that i just have rattle around in my head

[thegardengrows-infrozenrain]

this is what the next album will be called won't it /j