#this is bullshit and i have a friend whose family lives in walking distance from the mall

[mabelsguidetolife]

...

#if you’re wondering where the RAGE for my community is right now i’m compartmentalizing it onto twitter #this is bullshit and i have a friend whose family lives in walking distance from the mall #and NRA members are being assholes when people in my city are DEAD because of them #i feel sick

[unbridgeabledistances]

a ✨drunk and clingy ian✨ one-shot

okay so we all know that saint patrick’s day is a very arbitrary and somewhat meaningless holiday (at least in the u.s. lol)- but we also know that the gallaghers are incredibly fucking irish, so i am using this as an excuse to write some drunk and clingy gallavich fluff (bc i think we all need it!! or at least i do!!!!)

hope y’all enjoy<3

--

Mickey and Ian came in the door from their final weed security run of a way-too-chilly and grey March afternoon, kicking the slush off of their lace-up boots in a tired but comfortable silence. Mickey had been fantasizing for a good part of the afternoon about his usual afternoon ritual of collapsing onto the couch with a cold beer in his hand, and taking a long lazy nap while shitty game shows played on the TV in the background— but unfortunately, Debbie had other plans. Or so he realized when he turned the corner and his eyes were met with a forest of green and white streamers blanketing the living room, with Debbie determinedly balancing on a kitchen chair to hang them in the doorway.

Mickey did a double-take, shooting a glance at Ian and then back at the festive room again. What the fuck? He quickly racked his brain— there was no way he’d could’ve forgotten Franny’s birthday, that was in the summer—and he was pretty sure that Liam’s birthday was in the winter sometime; so whose the fuck was it? Too many goddamn Gallaghers to keep track of. Finally, Mickey admitted his own defeat.

“Is it someone’s fuckin’ birthday or something?”

Mickey flashed another gaze to Ian in confusion as he said it, hoping that Ian would silently mouth whatever the occasion was to him, or at the very least raise his eyebrows and goad Mickey enough to jog his memory to remember whatever the fuck today was— but Ian just gave an easygoing grin as he took in the room’s decor and let out a laugh.

“Debbie, isn’t this kind of going overboard?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was now taping a crudely scribbled picture of a shamrock, most likely drawn by Franny, up onto the wall.

“What? If it’s our last Saint Patrick’s Day in the house, the least we can do is go out with a bang,” she answered nonchalantly, and continued fixating on hanging up Franny’s drawing.

Mickey inadvertently let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallaghers.

“I’m sorry, fucking Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Ian’s lips formed a playful smile and he elbowed Mickey between the ribs. “Yeah, Mick, Saint Patrick’s Day— also known as the unironically most important day of the Gallagher family calendar year. I can’t believe I forgot it was today, with all the work stuff we had going on.”

At first Mickey couldn’t tell if Ian was actually being serious— but in the same second he decided that it didn’t really matter, since Ian’s eyes were bright and shining and there was this weird giddy grin he was sporting from ear to ear, like he was absolutely fucking delighted that it was Saint Patrick’s Day, instead of just a normal goddamn Wednesday. Fucking softie.

And as endearing as that was, Mickey still couldn’t let him off that easily. “There’s no way I’m celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a fake holiday for yuppie rich kids to go bar hopping—I’m not getting involved in any of your Gallagher bullshit.”

Ian’s grin just grew, like he knew exactly what Mickey was doing. “Hey, you married into this family. If anything, this is your own fault.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, then continued to unlace his boots and throw them by the doorway.

“The fuck do you do anyways, aside from getting trashed?”

Ian put a hand on Mickey’s upper back to steady himself as he pulled his own shoes off. “I think getting trashed pretty much sums up the festivities. Today’s practically a holy day of observance for Frank, and I’m assuming Debbie’s also just gonna use today as an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Debbie called from where she was putting the chair back in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I knew Gallaghers were white trash, but I had no idea you were this bad.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have any Ukranian white trash holidays or whatever?”

Mickey held back a bitter laugh. Yeah, they had “holidays,” in the form of days when Terry was celebratorily drunk enough to leave them the fuck alone for 24 hours, rare occasions when his looming shadow was out of the house and a festive lightness bled in in its place. They sort of celebrated Christmas, which was mostly just associated with too many painful memories of Terry ripping open the presents before he or his brothers had the chance, and too many painful stings associated with him having one too many drinks as they sat quietly inside the sagging house and pretended to be a big happy family for one night a year.

But never anything as gaudy and deliberate and ridiculous as observing a C-list, Irish-American holiday just for the hell of it, just for fun—which yes, was probably fueled by Frank’s alcoholism more than anything else, but also made something swell in Mickey’s insides that he didn’t quite know how to place.

And Mickey didn’t know how to let out that entire internal monologue to Ian while Debbie was standing within earshot. “Nah, man. Milkoviches don’t really do… holidays.”

Ian snaked a hand around Mickey’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a grounding touch. He gets it.

“Well, get ready to have your mind blown, Mr. Gallavich, because we’re about to celebrate this hallowed occasion Gallagher style.”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, but let himself lean into Ian’s touch, lean his weight ever-so-slightly against Ian’s chest that was pressed behind him by the doorway. And, okay— as stupid as this was, maybe there was something sort of warm and solid about tradition, about hand-scribbled shamrocks and streamers on the wall, about having days to celebrate just because you wanted to, just because you could…

Just then Franny came hurdling into the room, wearing a baggy green t-shirt and a face-painted shamrock adorning her cheek.

Ian’s face lit up when she stopped in front of them. “Hey Franny! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

Franny held out two bottles of beer to Ian and Mickey from where she had been hiding them behind her back.

“Mommy said I should give these to you when you came home!”

Mickey smirked, carefully taking the bottles from Franny’s outstretched hands. “Thanks, kiddo.”

And if all celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day took was knocking down a few beers on a weekday afternoon—well, Mickey wasn’t going to complain about that.

**

Of course, hours later Mickey realized how severely he’d underestimated Debbie’s enthusiasm— after lounging around the house waiting for the stream of Gallaghers to trickle in from their various daily activities, Debbie had rounded everyone up and they migrated to the Alibi as the sun was setting, where they’d met up with Kev and V and Lip and Tami, who (thank fucking god) looked as vaguely confused and fully apathetic about this whole “Saint Patrick’s Day” situation as Mickey did.

Now it was late, and Mickey was leaning against the bartop of the Alibi sipping a thick, foamy glass of Guinness, which was as close to embracing whatever-the-fuck Irish heritage his husband had as he was possibly going to get.

All of the Gallaghers were here, swirling around the room—Debbie had put on some sort of peppy music as Kev poured everyone drinks, and a couple of other Southside neighbors had heard the bass thrumming and joined the ruckus. The room wasn’t too crowded, but it was pleasantly full of bodies and chatter— Kev had bought bunches of shiny, tacky green mardi gras beads for everyone to wear, and the air in the room was festive and bordering on sloppy in a way that felt very different from how Mickey had envisioned this evening would go.

Mickey was pacing himself, because it was a Wednesday for fuck’s sake— but his husband was an entirely different story. Between the beers at home and the various drinks Debbie had been siphoning into his hands all night, Ian was teetering on the drunkest Mickey had seen him in years—which partially made the tiniest spark of trepidation start to creep into Mickey’s bloodstream, a spark that he immediately extinguished. It was one night, the first in a long time— Ian deserved to have some fun.

And he definitely, definitely was having fun— casually dancing with Debbie and Sandy and whoever else would humor him, grinning with red-hot cheeks and bright eyes— from across the room Mickey could tell how warm his skin would be if he pressed a hand against it, how flushed. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood for dancing, or whatever the fuck stumbling around and chatting and making friends Drunk Ian was up to for the evening, and he was perfectly content to nurse his drink at the bar— which is why it surprised him when Ian pulled himself out of the crowd, slightly stumbling over his own feet, and made the way across the room to where Mickey was leaning at the bar, immediately boxing him in and putting his hands square on Mickey’s waist. Mickey almost imperceptibly let in a sharp breath.

Ian looked down at him, all smiles and shiny eyes— when he spoke the scent of sweet, hot liquor danced on Mickey’s face and all he wanted was to be closer, to breathe it in.

“Are you having fun?” Ian’s right hand traced up Mickey’s side, then back down to its hold on his hipbone.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You and your leprechaun family don’t mess around, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled a lazy, tipsy smile, and pecked Mickey’s cheek before Mickey could be embarrassed about it.

“D’you wanna dance with me?”

Ian’s hands slid off of his hips and entangled with Mickey’s hands that had been hanging limply at his sides, walking backwards so their fingers were laced together an arm’s distance apart.

Mickey shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll leave showing the Irish pride to you and the rest of the drunken Gallaghers.”

Ian registered Mickey’s words and opened his mouth to reply, just as Debbie pulled Ian over by the arm.

“Stop sulking with Mickey and do more shots with me!”

Jesus Christ. Ian was going to be wrecked when their alarm went off for work in the morning, and Mickey was starting to debate if he was going to need to have a talking-to with Debbie about the appropriate amount of “Saint Patrick’s Day fun” they were allowed to partake in next year— but for now Ian was happy, and he could stomach one night of hardcore festivities.

Mickey stood at the bar for a while, watching Ian and Debbie get progressively more flushed as they bobbed through the crowd— and then, when Debbie had found some other victim in their mid-twenties to get even more shitfaced with, Ian made his way across the room to Mickey again, plopping onto the barstool beside him and heaving his bodyweight onto Mickey’s left side, burying his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey wrapped a tentative arm around Ian’s waist, trying to hold him up from slouching off of the barstool.

“M’tired.” Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath dancing on his collarbone as he slurred out the words, and felt Ian’s eyelids flutter shut against the side of his neck.

Ian was always giving Mickey measured casual touches, wherever they were—but it was so exceedingly rare that Ian fully let himself go like this, let himself be drunk and happy and just crumple into Mickey, without worrying about holding anyone else up. It felt new, but it felt good— Mickey let the solid weight of his husband’s body leaning against his press him down, rooting him into the Alibi’s sticky floors, feeling the clammy skin of Ian’s forehead that was solidly lodged into the side of Mickey’s neck.

He hated to admit it, but in that moment, something in Mickey was also frozen solid— as much as Mickey had grown in the past few years, something about these situations, about PDA or whatever, still made Mickey feel like he was treading water—like he was fighting to stay afloat while everyone’s eyes were on him, and the strong current was only lifted when he and Ian were in the dark safety of their bedroom. If Mickey was drunk at a bar and sloppily leaning onto Ian, there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that Ian would hold him, would gingerly touch him and caress him and do more to him than just prop him up— but something in Mickey still hesitated and flashed with warning signs in a crowded room full of people.

But Ian was still breathing hot on Mickey’s neck— so Mickey thought about what Ian would do, if it was Mickey who was tipsy and slumped on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his arm from where it was lying limply by his side, and started to run soothing circles onto Ian’s t-shirt, just above his hipbone where Mickey’s hand was holding Ian up by his waist.

Ian hummed in acknowledgement of the touch— and then he pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Mickey’s neck, where his face was buried. Fuck. Mickey just pulled him in closer, gently tugging Ian’s torso in by his belt loop to hold him steady.

Ian hummed again, then started to press kisses up and down Mickey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Mickey’s heart started to beat a little quicker, his blood running hotter than usual—and Ian couldn’t fucking do this now, while the rest of his family was milling around and dancing and wearing fucking mardi gras beads while flaunting their Gallagher pride.

Ian lifted his forehead off of Mickey’s shoulder, and gently bit at the underside of Mickey’s jaw—and Mickey thought he was going to combust right there, on the spot, in a room full of Gallaghers pressed against the bartop at the Alibi by his very drunk husband.

And in an act of excruciatingly inconvenient timing, Lip sidled up to the bar and sat on the barstool on Mickey’s other side, nursing what Mickey assumed (and hoped) was a diet Coke in a beer glass.

“Hey there, Mick. And, uh, Ian.”

Ian looked up from where he was very engrossed in continuing to nuzzle the opposite side of Mickey’s neck, and glared at Lip from across Mickey’s chest.

“Go away, Lip.” Ian collapsed his head back onto Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck like a fucking boa constrictor. Mickey snaked an arm up around Ian’s back, holding him steady on the wobbly barstool.

Lip held back a laugh as he sipped his drink, then took a drag of the cigarette he was holding. “Seems like Ian’s done enough drinking to make our ancestors proud.”

Mickey took a sip of his own beer with his free hand. “Debbie made sure of that.”

Lip raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Guess we’d better keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t also have the Frank gene.”

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement, then took another sip of his beer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. Ian’s head shifted slightly on his shoulder— and Mickey realized he probably needed to haul Ian home ASAP, before he was even more sleepy and incoherent and unable to lug down the street.

Lip noticed Ian’s movement on Mickey’s shoulder and smirked. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen Ian being this clingy before. Even with other guys—no offense, Mick— he usually stayed pretty contained. And you guys aren’t usually too into the PDA department.”

Mickey shrugged, trying not to jostle the heavy weight of where Ian’s head was hanging. Lip was right—he and Ian never really were all over each other, especially not like this, outside of the context of their room, when they were very much always all over each other.

Lip kept studying them, and the corner of his mouth eventually ticked upward. “It’s good. He’s definitely not this… comfortable with anyone else. Including me, which is definitely saying something.”

It felt weird, to get something like what felt like Lip’s full blessing at a raunchy Gallagher party months after he and Ian had gotten married—but that was also exactly what it felt like was happening.

Lip’s eyes suddenly darted across the room, to where Tami was holding up his coat and gesturing to the door. Lip rose from the barstool, stubbed out his cigarette, and put out a hand to clap Mickey on the shoulder as a goodbye.

“Catch up with you later, Mick.” Lip reached out and jokingly tousled Ian’s hair. “Make sure this one doesn’t hate himself too much tomorrow morning.”

Mickey smirked. Ian was practically asleep and drooling on his shoulder, his breathing turned steady—Mickey reached a hand up to card through his hair, then gently shrugged his shoulder to get Ian’s head to rise from where it was jammed on his neck.

Ian raised his head, his eyes bleary and confused at first, then softening around the edges when he met Mickey’s gaze.

“Alright, let’s get you home, carrottop.”

#did i read this before posting it???? nope #this is so silly but was also living RENT FREE in my brain #also this is temporally separated from the last ep lol bc i do not have it in me to write anything heavy this week #drunk happy husbands only !!!! #🙅🏻‍♂️‼️ #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian and mickey #ixm #gallavich fanfiction

[abarbaricyalp]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but you know the vine two dudes chilling in a hot tub 5 feet apart cause they're not gay, and a girl quoting it in a park about two girls in the distance and one of them hearing and going "Actually I am gay" Like that scenario, only involving them fixing the boat? Maybe Sarah quoting it to give Sam shit when she thinks Bucky cant hear and Bucky goes "Wait, no I'm gay" or something, or just the general gist of that. Sorry if this us too specific, I've never sent anyone a prompt before :P

Hello Friend! Thank you so much for sending anything in at all! I know the vine you're talking about, but I couldn't find it on Youtube. (I did find a two day rabbit hole of old compilations though) This was also my first foray into writing Sarah as a fully fleshed character! I was excited to get the practice 'cause I had an idea bouncing around in my head about her and Bucky talking after he wakes up in the Wilson house. I kept her a little more like she had been in my other fics pre-show here. I so wish we got a little more of her!

Feel free, anyone, to send me Sambucky prompts!

The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation

Sarah Wilson loved her brother deeply. The kind of soul crushing love that could only be formed through family, loss, and approximately four thousand brawls around the living room throughout their life. She looked up to her brother more than she could ever imagine looking up to anyone. Even when they were fighting or picking on each other, she couldn’t help but feel a swell in her chest when he came into her line of sight.

That didn’t mean she understood him. In fact, from the age of eight, watching her brother interact with the world had become her go-to pastime. Why did he have to roll every pea around the plate individually before eating them? Why did he and his friends spend seven years socking each other in the arm to prove friendship? Why did he talk to himself in the mirror, even when he knew Sarah or someone else was standing in the doorway?

Sam Wilson was just deeply weird. She had no idea how he had tricked the Avengers, a plethora of bad guys, and half of the media world into thinking he was remotely cool. She saw a news story once that had King T’Challa standing on a platform with Sam and the newscasters talked about how impressive Sam’s suit was. It was unnatural, the effect he had on people.

And in all her years, she never thought she’d see anyone weirder than Sam. But then James Barnes had showed up. It was like a complete reversal of Sam. Sarah was taken in for approximately three hours by his charm and face before she realized he too was deeply, deeply weird.

She justified sitting on the edge of the Paul and Darlene, watching her brother and James Barnes spar off about some dumb trivia fact, by deciding it was an anthropological expedition. The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation. She watched Sam watch Barnes take a long pull off his beer. She watched Barnes kick his feet up near Sam’s legs and then draw them back quickly when a current jolted the boat. She watched Barnes’ fingers tap-tap-tap against the edge of the boat, inching closer to Sam’s shoulder before he chickened out and brought his hand back to his own lap. She watched Sam suggest Bucky take his jacket off, ‘unless you plan on sun blinding me with the robocop arm.’ She watched Sam look away when Barnes did shrug his jacket off.

When she was seventeen and Sam was fifteen, she had found Sam crying in his room, pillow pressed to his face to muffle the noise. They were at the age where going into each other’s rooms uninvited started international conflicts, but Sarah, who watched her brother intently, felt like she knew what was going on. So she let herself in through their Jack-and-Jill bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Sam didn’t stop crying, not even to yell at her to get out, so she sat on the end of his bed and rolled a baseball under her foot for a while. Finally, she’d said, “You don’t have to tell Mom and Dad, y’know.”

Sam had just about wailed and bit the corner of his pillow to stop himself.

“That’s gross, stop it,” Sarah ordered and pushed Sam’s shoulder back enough to yank his pillow free and then reached over to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I should make you do the laundry this week so I know I’m not touching your snot germs,” she teased softly.

“How did you know?” Sam hiccuped out. Tears were still brimming at his eyes, but they didn’t fall.

“I’m your older sister. I made you. Like a doll. You think there’s something about you that I don’t know?” she joked. And when the tears did spill over his long lashes, she sighed and pulled him closer to her side. “I just know the way you interact with that boy from the basketball team ain’t just friendly.”

“Jesus, do you think he can tell?” Sam asked and she could hear the mortification in his voice.

“Sam, he’s a freshman in high school. The only thing he knows is that he’s scared of everything too. No one’s paying that much attention to you.”

“Screw you,” Sam muttered.

“What’re all these tears for you if you didn’t make a move and get shot down?”

“God, Sarah, can you not say things like that?”

“Watch your mouth,” Sarah warned with no heat in her voice. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I’m not leaving until you do.”

“I just…” Sam sat up and worked his jaw for a while. His chin dimpled and his eyes watered but he managed to control himself. “I’m scared, Sarah. I’m scared of never being in love. Of having to leave if I am. I’m scared to say something and I’m scared not to say something. I’m so scared of...losing any of it.”

“Sam,” Sarah sighed and pulled Sam into another hug. “You’re fifteen. You’re not supposed to be in love yet. You don’t have to think about any of that. You just have to focus on passing Geometry, alright? Mom’ll whoop your ass more for failing than anything else.”

“I have a B+, that’s not failing!” Sam snapped. He kept his face against her shoulder for a second long before he sat up and wiped his tears away. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Who am I gonna tell? I told you, my friends don’t like you as much as you think they do.”

“Your friends like me more than they like you,” Sam shot back and he almost sounded normal.

Sarah smiled softly and patted Sam’s cheek. “I won’t tell Mom or Dad. Of course not. That’s for you to do. But--”

“I’m always going to tell them when you sneak out the window.”

“No! Sam! You can’t! You owe me now!”

“Going to field parties is not the same thing!” Sam said in a shriek as Sarah leaned over to pinch his sides. They grappled for a second before Sam managed to push Sarah off the bed.

“You owe me,” she reminded him as she walked back to the bathroom.

Sam wiped his eyes again and nodded. “Sure, Sarah. I do.”

Sam almost had the same look on his face now. Like there was something he wanted to reach for that he thought was too impossible to hold. The Older Sister Instinct to Antagonize into a Solution kicked in.

“Two bros, chilling on a boat, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,” she sing-songed. Sam looked mortified again but masked his face into something more irritated with a roll of his eyes when Barnes looked over at him.

“Ignore her. It’s this old video--” Sam started.

But Bucky interrupted to say, “Actually I am gay,” as he looked back over at Sarah. “Sorry if I got your hopes up,” he added with a grin that really did get the hopes up.

“What?” Sam asked and Sarah, ever watchful, could see the beer bottle shaking in his hand.

“What?” Bucky repeated innocently.

“He said he’s gay,” Sarah clarified.

“Thank you, Sarah,” Sam ground out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Bucky snorted. “When would I have said anything? ‘Sorry for ripping your wings off and kicking you off of a hellicarrier, by the way I’m gay.’?”

“You did what?” Sarah asked.

“‘Sorry for claiming I didn’t bomb the UN only to be reverted back to the assassin who would have done that and then fighting you again. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Thanks for saving my life. Sorry about the giant undersea prison. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘There’s an imminent battle with weird ass space dogs that want to eat our faces. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Sorry about Tony Stark, whose life I kind of ruined. Lovely funeral. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘I’m in the middle of being pissed at you about the Shield. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Maybe don’t take me rolling through a field of flowers. It does things to me ‘cause I’m gay.’ ‘John Walker’s fucking insane. I’m gay, but definitely not for this bullshit.’ I mean, come on, Sam.”

“Flowers?” Sarah asked.

“Besides, why would you care? I don’t make it a habit of telling straight guys I’m into guys.”

“You don’t seem to make a habit of telling many people that,” Sarah pointed out. “I googled you. Nothing suggesting that came up.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m a guy from the 30s. It was trained out of me.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sarah said quickly. “Back up away from that because we’re not gonna try to Oppression Olympics our way through our histories. Did you just say Sam was straight?”

“Sarah!” Sam hissed.

“Sure. I mean, I saw him with Romanov. Hill. He has Tinder on his phone.”

“Samuel Thomas, you better not,” Sarah warned lightly. “You’re better than that.”

“He’s a lady-killer.”

Sarah snorted and had to bring her hand up to her face. “He definitely is not. There has been no lady-killing on his end for a long time.”

“Sarah!” Sam tried again.

“You explain it to him then. Mr. 30s is gonna need the long way round explanation.”

Sam sighed and dragged his hand over his face. “Dammit. Fine. I’m not straight either, alright? I’m...bi, or something. It’s been a while since I’ve had to think about it.”

“What?” Bucky asked, not unlike Sam had.

“He said he’s bisexual. Interested in both parties. Swings either way. Hit a homerun and then hasn’t really swung since.”

“Sarah, Jesus Christ,” Sam groaned.

“What?” Bucky asked again.

“I was engaged. To a man,” Sam said.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the irony.

“Oh, it was inconvenient for you but I had plenty of opportunities, huh?” Sam asked. “Ms. Tell-It-All over there wasn’t joking. I haven’t swung any direction in a while. Not since before I met Steve. My fiance died. And then it never came up.”

Bucky blinked at Sam. He kept bringing the bottle halfway up his body and then setting it back on his leg without ever taking a drink. “Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry,” Bucky said, which was not what Sarah was expecting and it clearly wasn’t what Sam was expecting because Sam finally moved closer to Bucky on the bench.

“What for? You didn’t do anything. This time.”

“Yeah, but if I’d known you were into me too, I woulda kissed you in Germany.”

“Oh, I am so not into you,” Sam denied. “And I wouldn’t have our first kiss ruined by immediately running into the government’s roving show monkey.”

“That’s the worst,” Bucky agreed and also finally moved over on the bench until they were pressed thigh to thigh. “Tell me how much you don’t like me again,” he challenged.

“I can’t stand you,” Sam answered and brought his hand up to Bucky’s jaw.

Sarah couldn’t fight down the grin that came to her face and turned to prop her feet on the pier, back to Sam and Bucky. Just this once, she didn’t need to watch her brother to understand him.

Read on AO3 here!

#anonymous #prompts #sambucky #writing #fanfiction #i answer things #sarah wilson #sam wilson #bucky barnes

[sweet-sammy-kisses]

I Can Feel the Magic Floating In the Air

For @tropetember day 7: mutual pining Fandom: 911 Pairing: Buck x Eddie, other canon relationships Word Count for this chapter: 1,810 Notes: This is a three part chapter story with each chapter a different prompt for tropetember each chapter will be posted on the other dates and the rating will rise in the third chapter. Also there is minor Eddie/Ana.  Summary: With a distance growing between him and Eddie since Eddie started dating Ana Buck finds himself growing closer to Josh. When Josh admits to him that he hasn't tried dating since that horrible night Buck decides to introduce Josh to an ex that he remained friends with. Buck just would like to know why Eddie is acting like a jealous and possessive ex-husband when he talks about Henry. You can also read it on AO3

There was a distance between him and Eddie ever since Eddie had begun dating Ana. Most of the time Buck didn't recognize the man his best friend was. It was like Eddie was playing the part of Edmundo, Ana's perfect version of what she wants Eddie to be. He missed his Eddie. Not that Eddie was his and he had any claim to him but he still didn't like Ana's Edmundo.

Buck was doing his best to put aside and enjoying the time that he did have with Eddie and Christopher, which had dwindled down, even their movie nights which were once every Friday were now once a month. And sure it hurt when Eddie would call him to babysit Christopher, not that he didn't love spending time with his favourite Diaz, he just wishes that Eddie would call him for other reasons, even if it was just to hang out.

Then Ana started showing up on the few times that Buck had with Eddie and Christopher. He hadn't been the only one who had been disappointed in Ana's "surprise" visit as Christopher looked so downhearted before excusing himself to go play Legos in his room.

"You want to come Buck?" Christopher asked him with a soft smile on his face.

Buck's heart melted at that smile, "I will join you in a moment bud, why don't you get them picked out for us first and we will make something so epic that Karen and Michael will be so impressed that they will once again fight over who you take after more Karen or Michael." Buck suggested.

A series of giggles escaped Christopher as he recalled the science project that Buck had helped him create that wowed everyone that Karen and Michael had ended up in a heated debt about, Hen and David both informed them all that they were still arguing over whose footsteps Christopher should follow.

Watching Christopher leave the living room Buck didn't know why he stayed behind he didn't need to watch Ana drape herself all over Eddie, laying her claim that Eddie is hers.

"So Buck, do you think you can watch Christopher for Eddie and me this weekend? We wanted to have some grown-up alone time together." Ana asked in a sickeningly sweet voice as she stared at Buck with an expected look in her eyes like all she saw was an on-call babysitter and not someone who was woven so deeply into the Diaz family that he was considered family.

Glancing at Eddie he saw a surprised look in his best friend's eyes but Eddie made no move to correct her. Buck could understand Ana was perfect, his parents would love her and finally show him the approval he craves, the same that Buck craves from his parents only he would never get it while Eddie would as long as he twisted and turned himself into Edmundo.

Buck couldn't do this, he loves Christopher and he loves Eddie but he can't be downgraded to just a babysitter for them. He wouldn't survive it. With a heavy heart he put on a mask, "I'm so sorry Ana. I can't. I have plans with Josh this weekend. I'm sure that you can find someone else on short notice to babysit or did you ask me because you think I have no life and no one waiting for me at home that I am always free?" Buck asked in a pleasant tone.

Something unpleasant grew in Eddie's chest at Buck's response to Ana's question. He had asked not to say anything to Buck. He hadn't even agreed to go away this weekend with her. It was the first one he had off in a while and he had hoped to spend it with his son, who had been a champ about letting Ana spend more time with them when it was clear that he was missing Buck. As he was. He wanted to spend this weekend with Christopher and Buck, his boys, he hadn't made any plans with Ana and he hated how she seemed to disregard his feelings and thoughts and go ahead with what she wanted.

"Your spending the weekend with Josh?" Eddie didn't like that. What he has heard from Buck, Chimney and Maddie Josh is a nice guy but the idea of Buck spending time with another guy rubbed him the wrong way.

"Yep, Josh got a dog and he wanted to get her settled before introducing her to people. She is a rescue and came from an abusive owner. I can't wait to meet her." Buck's eyes were sparkling. Pulling out his phone he pulled up a picture of a sweet-looking brown with white on her underbelly pitbull smiling as happily wearing a flower crown. "Isn't she the sweetest thing? To think that anyone could hurt her, people can be monsters."

The sudden urge to hug Buck over took Eddie and the only reason he couldn't was the hold Ana had on him. "She looks adorable what is her name?"

"Adora." Buck happily told Eddie, "Named after the Princess of Power herself. Given everything she has gone through Josh thought she needed a strong and beautiful name."

Eddie didn't know why he found himself so jealous over Buck acting like a co-parent with Josh over Josh's dog. "Maybe Christopher can meet her someday." Eddie knew that Christopher would be over the moon at that, he had been begging him to get him a dog for months now.

"Sure. I think we can arrange for Adora to meet Christopher as well as Henry and Denny." Buck looks excited at that idea.

"I don't think that is wise. Pitbulls as a dangerous breed of dogs. I don't think a child as sensitive as Christopher should be around something so dangerous." Ana spoke up, she was tired of being ignored.

A dark look appeared in Buck's eyes, "There are no dangerous dogs they are just who they are because of how people treated them. Pitbulls get a bad reputation because of humans not because of them. They are hurt and beaten until they are turned into what their so-called owners want them to be. Adora is a sweetheart and Josh has shown her the love and kindness she has been denied all her life. Now if you excuse me I have a Lego time to get to with Christopher."

"Well, that was rude and uncalled for," Ana muttered under her breath once Buck was gone.

"Yes, what you said to Buck was uncalled for. I hope you apologize to him. And what is this about going away for an adult weekend? I don't recall being asked or agreeing to it." Eddie wasn't happy with his girlfriend.

A pout appeared on Ana's face as she attempted to snuggle close to him only for Eddie to pull away from her. "I thought it would be nice for the two of us to have some adult time. We have been dating for months I think it is time that we spend the nights together."

Eddie froze, he should be saying yes. Ana is his girlfriend, she is sweet, smart and sexy, he should be thrilled at the idea of them finally crossing that line but he isn't. He doesn't want to sleep with her. "I think that you should go. Today was the day that I was meant to spend with my son and Buck, just the three of us, a boy's day. You knew that but still invited yourself over. Now I am asking you to leave so I can salvage this day."

Stung Ana reared back a hurt look that gave way to anger appeared on her face, "Are you choosing Buck over me?" She demanded.

Looking at Ana Eddie realized that if she left and walked out of his life today he wouldn't miss her as much as he did miss spending time with Buck. "I am."

Climbing to her feet Ana grabbed her bag, "Call me Eddie when you come to your senses."

When he didn't feel the terror griping him like he did when Bobby had informed them that they couldn't talk to Buck during that horrible time of the lawsuit Eddie knew that he and Ana just weren't meant to be.

But right now it didn't matter what matter was spending time with his boys.

+******+

"So wait Eddie chose you over his girlfriend and you still came to visit me today? I'm touched, Buck." Josh grinned at his friend.

"Actually I came to spend time with Adora, you are just extra," Buck informed him from where he was kneeling beside Adora giving her belly rubs.

"Fair." Josh would choose to spend time with Adora over others, his sweet girl was the best. Studying his friend Josh felt his heart break for him, it was no secret - except to Eddie - that Buck was deeply in love with his best friend. Everything had been certain that those two were heading towards a relationship when Ana appeared and suddenly Eddie was head over heels for her. Josh had heard many rants about pod person Edmundo Ana was turning him into from Chimney and Maddie. Josh admired how Buck was able to put his heartbreak aside and still put on a happy smile for Eddie. "Come on let's show Adora off." Today was going to be an Eddie-free day Josh was going to make sure of it.

Buck smiled as he gave Adora one final belly rub, "How about that girl, ready to show off your amazing self."

Adora let out a happy bark.

+*****+

Eddie wasn't miserable or jealous over the fact that Buck had chosen to spend the day with Josh. He was perfectly happy hanging out with Hen and Karen as Denny and Christopher played in the Wilson's backyard.

"If you look any greener I think the trees are going to get jealous." Hen commented as she took a sip of her drink.

Refusing to look his friend in the eyes Eddie studied the label on his bottle. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Right," Hen drawled out, "You are not sulking and drowning your sorrows in a pack of beer over the fact that Buck is out having a guy's day with Josh and not attached to your side." Hen wasn't afraid to call out his bullshit.

Clenching his jaw Eddie refused to admit that he was jealous.

Hen and Karen exchanged a look, they both knew that if Buck kept spending time with Josh then Eddie's jealous and possessive side was only going to get worse and that just might be what finally pushes the boys to act on their feelings.

Hen hoped it was soon, she couldn't take much more of this pining between her two idiotic boys before she asked Athena for a pair of handcuffs.

#buddie #buck x eddie #otp: you can have my back anytime #tropetember #not ana flores friendly #sherri writes #my fics

[tommysparker]

Good For You

Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I dunno how I really feel about this one...but there will be a part 2! Inspired by “Good For You” from the musical Dear Evan Hansen, give it a listen and enjoy :)

Warnings: just pure angst, reader is disappointed but not surprised, and also # done

Six times. 

Six times he’s canceled plans last minute. 

And that’s just this month, so far. 

You were happy for him, honestly, you were. But had you known his newfound fame would have cost you hours of waiting, hours of your life that you will never get back, just to end up looking like a fool as you leave the restaurant, you probably would have re-thought some decisions. 

“Hi! This is Peter Parker, leave a--”

You sighed in frustration, tossing your phone and keys on the couch as you kicked off your shoes and shut the door to the apartment. Thankfully, your parents weren’t home so you had time to release some stress and anger. 

Dropping yourself onto the cushions, you grabbed the TV remote and pressed the on-button, hoping some good ol’ fashioned Disney Plus would take your mind off tonight’s events, or lack thereof. However, the television network had other plans. 

Sure enough, there was your boyfriend, dressed head-to-toe in that stupid red and blue spandex costume standing next to the great Tony Stark, who wore a regular suit and that signature smile the public adored. 

Really? He ditched me to hang out with some tech billionaire? Is what you would’ve thought, however, you were used to it at this point. The first few times you felt disappointed, but now all you saw was red. 

You turned off the TV, throwing the remote aside and grabbing your phone, hoping to see at least one message from your once adoring lover, but you were met with an old picture of you and him that you set as your lockscreen. 

With a heavy sigh, you went into your room and decided to catch up on all the homework you’ve been ignoring. What better way to distract yourself than with memorizing calculus formulas? 

The only text you got that night was from your parents telling you they’ll be home late. 

                                                       ---

The next day at school, you completely avoided Peter at all costs. 

Peter was beyond confused. 

He had gotten home late last night after spending hours with Mr. Stark teaching him the new customs of his suit and later going back to the lab to fix some minor bugs. 

When he came into school this morning, he was hoping for the usual bear hug you greet him with when he walked over to your locker. However, by the time he got there you were already gone. Betty, whose locker was right next to yours, said you went to class early to talk to the teacher. 

He shrugged it off, figuring he would catch you in between classes. 

But he never did. 

Every time he tried to talk to you, you would run off or ignore his callings. He thought maybe you were just having an off-day, you’ve been having a lot of those recently. 

By the time lunch came around, he knew something was wrong. 

No matter what mood you were in, you always made sure to sit next to him in the cafeteria, so when you didn’t show up at all, he had a feeling it was more than just an off-day. 

He didn’t see you for the rest of the school day. 

                                                        ---

You were done. Absolutely done. 

You woke up that morning ready to deal with whatever bullshit excuse Peter was gonna throw at you, but as you entered the school something inside you just snapped. 

Maybe it was because one of your friends were talking about the amazing date they had, or maybe it was because you were tired after waiting for Peter to swing by your window and apologize for missing another date then end up passing out on the window sill, but either way, you were done. 

You dodged Peter the whole first half of school, ditching after lunch because you weren’t ‘feeling well’.

The rest of the day you spent curled up on your bed, listening to music that related to whatever emotion you were feeling. 

You glanced over at the clock, seeing school would’ve been out about half an hour ago. Picking up your phone you texted MJ asking if she was down to go out later. You were supposed to be having a movie night with Peter but if he could skip your plans dozens of times, why couldn’t you? 

A ding followed by your phone lighting up took your attention off your laptop. Picking up your phone, you were hoping it was MJ accepting your invitation, and thankfully, the bookworm didn’t fail to please. 

A few hours later, you were almost ready to go out, when a loud knocking sound came from your window. 

Startled, you whipped your head towards the glass, and behind it stood non-other than your boyfriend. 

Did you forget to tell him you canceled? Whoops. 

Rolling your eyes, you opened your window and stepped back so he could come in. You were still upset with him, but that doesn’t mean you were about to make him wait outside when it was near zero degrees. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m late Mr. Stark wanted to test this cool new web settings and we kinda lost track of time but I got your favourite food to make up for it- oh are we going somewhere instead?” Peter tilted his head as he took in your outfit. Normally on movie nights, you’d welcome him wearing a pair of comfy pants and his hoodie. However tonight you were dressed in jeans and a top he hadn’t seen you wear before. When did you go shopping? 

“Yeah-no. It’s just me going, MJ should be on her way right now. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you shrugged, walking back to the mirror to finish doing your hair. 

“Wait- what do you mean? What’s going on? It’s movie night...” The vigilante expressed, trying his best to mask the disappointed look his face fell into. 

“Guess I’ll have to make it up to you, right? Just like all the times you’ve made it up to me.” You snapped, sarcasm laced with your words. 

Peter could sense something was wrong, your tone and the look in your eyes being a dead giveaway. “What are you talking about, Y/N?” 

“I dunno Parker, why don’t you tell me. Because I have been stood up too many times this month and honestly, I’m sick and tired of your empty promises,” You huffed, turning around to face him with your arms tightly crossed over your chest. 

The brown-haired boy was baffled. “Look if this is about last week, I told you I’m sorry. You know how much being Spiderman means to me--”

“--More than it means being with me?” 

Peter’s facial expression made it seem like the question slapped him in the face. “What? No! Why would you think that?”

“Um for starters, you’re always ditching me to go play superhero with a billionaire. Every time you tell me you’re gonna make it up to me, you never do! Yesterday’s date was supposed to make up for the one you missed last week, and that one was supposed to make up for the one you missed two weeks prior! I’m seeing a pattern Parker and I don’t like it.” 

For some reason, his ears fell deaf to everything you said except for the mention of his alter-ego. “Playing superhero? Really Y/n? I’m saving lives! I’m making a difference here. I have these powers and if I don’t use them, and bad things happen, that’s on me. You have no idea the kind of responsibility I have. Besides, you should be happy for me! I’m better than I’ve ever been before. Don’t you get that?”

You bit your lip, fighting back tears. “Yeah, I guess you're right. Well...I’m sorry I don’t fit into your responsibilities.” 

“What? No that’s not--”

“I’m not done yet! You got what you always wanted, right? Your dream is now a reality, well good for you, Parker. I’m happy for you, really I am. I just wish you would’ve told me that dream didn’t involve me so I didn’t waste my time loving you,” You spat. 

“Wait, Y/N please--!”

“I mean, are you even sorry?” You cut him off again. “‘Cause you say it all the time but you never act like it. The Peter I knew would’ve put everything aside in order to right a wrong, but you, you just worry about yourself.” Yes, that was a low blow, and far from the truth, but in the heat of the moment you could hardly control the words coming out of your mouth. Months of pent up frustration being released kinda broke the filter. 

Peter looked like a kicked puppy, he tried to say something but you kept ranting. 

“When was the last time you hung out with Ned? Or had a real conversation with May? All of us are hurting, Peter. We’re your friends, your family. And all you do is jump the fence over to “Mr. Stark’s” at the blow of his dog whistle. But, hey, if that makes you happy then fucking good for you. I guess if I can’t give you any fancy tech, o-or ‘understand your responsibility’ then go ahead and cut me loose. No, really, I won’t mind--”

“Stop it! Just stop, please!” He had tears running down his face, similar to your own. He took a shaky breath, wiping away the tears roughly before giving you a heart-broken look. 

You stared back, shoulders shaking and eyes red. You sniffled, pointing a shaky arm to the window. “Get out.” It was quiet, a huge contrast to the previous volume of your voice, but suddenly the energy was drained from your body, mentally and emotionally. 

Peter left without a word or hesitation. 

You walked to the window, swaying slightly as you watched him swing off into the distance. 

So you got what you always wanted, live with the consequences. 

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

Again....not ecstatic about this turned out but hoping part 2 turns out better :/

All: @greenorangevioletgrass @allegra-writes @soraitmnt @worldoftom @farfromparker @angel-spidey @parkerpeter24 @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @the-panwitch @rebekkah4766 @hollandsamor @spideygirl2003 @theactualprincessofeverything

Peter Parker: @rubberducky-jrr 

#peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter x reader #peter x y/n #rae writes sometimes

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter One

Sitting on a park bench, earbuds firmly lodged in my ears with music turned just this side of uncomfortably loud, my book opened to the same page it’s been on for the past week - the week that I’ve been back from - well I’d rather not think about where I was before. Where at least half the population of this giant ball of gas and bullshit disappeared to for years with no warning and then POOF here we were, back again, unchanged while every fucking thing we left behind was changed. Five years gone, five years lost to us, while the people we left behind had continued to move and grow.

Maybe that’s why I couldn’t focus on my music, or my book, or the scenic park laid bare before me. Why flashes of darkness and light would hit me without warning and crippling fear would strike me with no urging. My parents had died of natural causes while I was snapped into the void. No one was waiting to greet me or was excited when I returned. Friends and family scattered, the earth kept turning, but everything was upside down and inside out, or so it seemed to me.

I was the same as I’d been when the snap happened. Twenty-five years old, still searching for something, but no closer to the answers than I’d been before - and with less guidance now that two of my compass leads were gone. I had a house, thank God for the retroactive inheritance bills that were activated for people like me, whose family died and their property was put into question. I had some cushion, but I knew it wouldn’t last. I had to find something, some means to keep my head afloat and hopefully not make my mind numb to the point that I’d wish for another snap.

I shouldn’t be wasting time in parks with earbuds and books, I should have my feet on the ground looking for a job. What was I even qualified to do? I went to college and got a degree in liberal arts. Yeah, that’s marketable. I loved to read, notwithstanding my current attention span. I earned extra cash during college editing my fellow classmates’ papers, but I didn’t actually have a background in editing. I was considering how best to pad my resume that I hadn’t used for a full five years when he ran past.

A touch faster than the other joggers, a slightly different gait, his left side seemed heavier? I was studying him without actually thinking about it, his dark hair and the chiseled jawline would have been enough to draw anyone’s attention, but there was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on that marked him as different -

My head tilted as I watched him run, his hands were encased in gloves. Maybe that’s what drew my attention, it wasn’t cold after all. He didn’t look like he was running because he was a health nut, not like the other joggers dotting the jogging track, more like he was running for the routine of it. And I had no idea how I came to that conclusion.

I shook myself, watching a stranger run was creepy, verging on stalkerish. It didn’t matter that he was attractive or that he seemed to radiate some type of magnetic attraction that drew my gaze, that was probably just boloney that my mind was cooking up to make it alright for me to stare at him. Banging around in the nothingness for five years was NO excuse for this type of behavior, I told myself while my eyes were still following his course. Round and round he went, hardly breaking a sweat, and not breathing heavily either.

He glanced up and his eyes met mine and I could feel the blood drain from my face. Not because he scared me, but because I was caught being a creeper. And his eyes were like steel, gray and I shouldn’t have been able to tell that from the distance between us. But I could.

Evenings were always loose ends for me. Five years, dead parents, and I know people are going to say “but you have to have SOME friends around.” Of course I do, and most of them are now in their thirties and they don’t know how to handle that I’m not. Or how to handle that I was GONE for five years, while their lives went on, and I have what would have been godchildren and honorary nieces and nephews, but I wasn’t here. And if you don’t think that shit is awkward, well, you clearly haven’t experienced it.

They got to be at my parents’ funerals. They lived through my parents’ grief at the loss of ME. They said their goodbyes to ME. And now here I am. Yeah, it’s much easier to let go. Even if letting go means that I have to start over.

The choices are, make my own dinner - which I am more than capable of doing, or go out on the off chance I could meet and make new friends. Usually I pick option one. Safer, quieter, easier. But after the day I’d had in the park, I thought perhaps I’d give option two a go.

Going for a walk, thinking that I’d choose along the way, I started out with my phone, earbuds, and book. Habits. Old habits die hard.

I know what most people are thinking. A woman alone, nighttime, after everything that had happened and continues to happen, wasn’t I just asking for trouble? Not really. I’m not one of those people that automatically assumes that bad things happen to people because of size, shape, gender, and on and on. I don’t think I got snapped into the void or whatever because I happened to be a petite woman. I don’t think I’ll end up snatched off the street because of it either.

Also, my parents spent a fair bit of extra cash to make sure I was taught self defense, so I felt at least confident in my chances against regular freaks. It was the extra-enhanced freaks I might have issues with.

I bypassed sushi places and burger spots. Ignoring the sub sandwich shops that almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the early night, I was thinking that Italian was what I was craving, and if it hadn’t closed, my favorite spot wasn’t far. So focused on my purpose, now that I had one, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings and crashed into a steel wall.

“Ow,” I bounced back, rubbing my right shoulder and thinking that maybe I’d been too quick in my bitching about the padding in bras. Looking up I realized it wasn’t a steel wall OR door, but shockingly the jogger from earlier. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t decide if he was surprised by or uncertain about me. His lips were working to form something, and finally managed a sort of smile. “Nothing to be sorry about.” His eyes were in a squint and I wondered how weird he’d think I was if I rubbed my right breast, because DAMN if it didn’t hurt like fuck. “I should get out of your way.”

I blinked again, words, use your words. “Right, I was on my way to dinner.” You’re not fucking stupid. Just socially inept. “I’m sorry I ran into you?” Did I run into him? I mean, I’ve heard about muscles of steel, but REALLY?

“Oh,” he stepped back and cleared the path. “I hope you aren’t late.”

“Late?” He was more attractive up close and I swear it made it a thousand times harder to make words form. His eyes were almost silver and if I’d thought his jaw was chiseled as he jogged, well, holy hell up close? He could cut bread with it. He was waiting and I ran the conversation through my brain again. “For dinner, right. Dinner for one, so I’m only late if I don’t arrive at all.” Shit, now I sound lonely and sad. My eyes snapped shut. “And now I’ll go and disappear into my spiral of shame.”

“Shame?” He sounded so confused that I had to open my eyes, and sure enough his brow was fully furrowed and he looked as confused as a puppy. “Why would you -”

“You’d never understand,” I huffed out a chuckle and shook my head. “I’m sorry for talking your head off, I should go.”

“Wait,” his gloved hand touched my arm, the briefest touch to get my attention. “I’m Bucky -” he took a deep breath like he was really unsure of himself, which was bizarre. “Bucky Barnes.”

Something twitched in my stomach, something I hadn’t felt since long before the snap. And that name, wasn’t it a touch familiar? Butterflies and nerves fought for dominance, and as I bit my lip, I took my own deep breath thinking maybe this was it. The first step since coming back. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky, I’m Brooke Ashley.”

#bucky barnes/oc #the falcon and the winter soldier #alternate universe #slow burn #fluff

[halseyhazzard]

The Redemption of Judee Sill

Halsey Hazzard, fall 2018

for a writing class on pop culture criticism “So much sensationalist bullshit has been written about Judee Sill (by people who never knew her) focusing on her days as a hooker and a junkie.” So begins Pat Thomas’s interview with Tommy Peltier, a longtime friend and collaborator of Sill’s, in the liner notes to the recently and lovingly compiled “Songs of Rapture and Redemption: Rarities & Live.” He’s not wrong; in nearly all of the writing on Sill, her music, an inimitable blend of gospel, folk and country at once bluesy and baroque, plays second fiddle to the stranger- and sadder-than-fiction story of her all-too-brief life. Her eponymous 1971 debut and 1973’s Heart Food were met with praise from critics and her fellow songwriters alike; in 1973 Steve Holden called Judee a “most gifted artist, one who continues to promise almost more than I dare hope for.” Unfortunately — for Sill and for those who loved her, and for those of us who love her music — much of that promise never came to pass. She died in obscurity in 1979, leaving behind an unfinished third record and quietly ascending to the pantheon of young, brilliant musicians who died too soon.

It’s hard to write about Sill without relying on sensationalist bullshit. I suppose in writing this at all I’m contributing to the problem, but like so many others, I have joined the ranks of Sill’s devoted disciples, compelled to tell and retell her story to rectify fate’s perceived cruel disservice to a great talent. What emerges is not always a faithful portrait of the complicated artist Sill was, but rather a shifting and sometimes contradictory fable that cements Sill’s status as a legend — not, as she might have hoped, as “an extremely famous or notorious person,” but rather as the subject of a “story sometimes popularly regarded as historical but unauthenticated.”

The story goes something like this: Judee Sill was born Judith Lynne Sill to an average, unhappy middle class household in Los Angeles in 1944. She fell in with a rough crowd, got married, committed a series of crimes, got addicted to various drugs, went to jail, got married again. Eventually she cleaned up her act, put the gospel licks she’d learned in reform school to good use, and became the first act signed to David Geffen’s Asylum label. She put out two albums of intricate songs that married earthly desire and longing for heavenly salvation, populated with lonely cowboy types and vigilantes that sometimes seemed strikingly similar to Jesus. For a few shining years it seemed like Sill had made it. It soon became clear (the story goes) that fame was not what fate had in store for her. Until 2003, when Rhino issued Judee Sill and Heart Food on CDs for the first time as part of its Handmade series, Sill was “[u]nlamented and all but forgotten.” These are the words of Barney Hoskyns, who in a 2004 Guardian profile declared “[t]he tragic Judee Sill is well overdue for (re)discovery.” Since then, interest in Sill’s life and music has steadily increased thanks to a series of posthumous reissues and releases: 2005’s “Dreams Come True,” a two-disk set of unreleased recordings mixed by Jim O’Rourke (Sonic Youth, Wilco); Live in London: The BBC Recordings 1972-1973, released in 2007; and “Chariot of Astral Light,” an intimate collaboration with aforementioned Tommy Peltier recorded in the ‘70s and finally released in 2004.

In a review of the 2004 Intervention reissue of Judee Sill titled “The Judee Sill Cult Continues, This Time at 45RPM,” Michael Fremer of Analogplanet writes, “sometimes "legends" are created and nurtured simply by tragic circumstances. In Judee Sill's case add wasted talent and unfulfilled great promise that add up to a movie worthy story.” Sill’s life has yet to inspire a movie (although a seemingly-deserted IMDB page indicates at least one attempt at a documentary), but songwriter Laura Veirs’ “Song for Judee,” renders the Judee Sill legend in sparse yet cinematic detail. In it, Veirs’ voice echoes on top of warm, jangling guitars, the apparently upbeat melody betrayed by the sadness of the story it tells:

“You wrote “The Kiss” and it is beautiful

I can listen again and again

You never really got a break

From the car wrecks and the pain”

The crux of the Judee Sill legend is captured in these lines, which immediately identify Sill’s work with the tragic events of her life. Sill’s music is mentioned in Veir’s lyric but once, and only glancingly; it’s not even clear “The Kiss” is a song, or “Judee” a songwriter. Veirs’ appreciation for her music is given is as pretext for why the listener should care about Sill’s life, but it’s clear the main attraction here is tragedy. The rest of this atypical ode is not praise, but a retelling, addressed to Sill herself, of key moments in the legend of her life. What emerges is a tellingly concise fable that identifies Sill with the lonely phantom cowboys who populate her lyrical landscape.

Veirs appears to have lifted her narrative and several phrases from the BBC documentary. She mines in particular the commentary from Peltier, who says Sill was his best friend and shares the insights that would come to compose Veirs’ chorus: “You loved the Sons of the Pioneers and the Hollywood cowboy stars/you were just trying to put a hand to where we are.” She also borrows, nearly word-for-word, an introduction Judee gave during one of her London radio performances in 1972, describing her time “living in a ‘55 Cadillac, five people sleeping in shifts.” This almost creates an intimacy with Sill, whom Veirs had never met; however, there remains an insurmountable distance. Sill had been dead 35 years — as long as she was alive — by the time this ode was composed. While Veirs hints at Sill’s troubles in the first verse, only in the last verse does she make explicit what happened: “They found you with a needle in your arm, beloved books strewn ‘round at your feet”. The revelation gives the chorus retroactive prophetic relevance. The past tense, once wistful, is now crushing.

Her death, like her life, became part of the legend. There are general points of agreement: she had been in several car accidents, was using heroin again, and died of an overdose just after Thanksgiving 1979. Everything else is less clear. Though her death certificate reports she was found dead in her house in North Hollywood, a persistent rumor suggested she had disappeared to Mexico to live out her final days. Her death was reported as a suicide, but family members and friends maintain that the note found near her, a characteristic musing on death and redemption, was an idea for a song.

The title of a 2014 BBC Radio documentary by Ruth Barnes says it all: “The Lost Genius of Judee Sill.” Sill’s genius is preceded by its lostness. Sill herself comes last. Her music is mentioned too, of course. They quote Sill’s self-description of her work as “country-cult-baroque” and her professed influences, Bach and Pythagoras. (In some versions of the quote, Ray Charles is thrown in.) Yet every time, it seems, someone brings up that she wrote “Jesus Was a Crossmaker,” about JD Souther, that Graham Nash produced it. She was the inaugural artist on David Geffen’s Asylum, we’re told, .She opened for Crosby Stills and Nash, and Cat Stevens, and Gordon Lightfoot — and so on. These revelations are usually accompanied by astonishment at the fact that she failed to find the commercial success of her peers, despite her comparable — perhaps superior — talents.

Many have offered explanations about how this happened. There is a general consensus that her falling-out with Geffen played a role. It’s not exactly clear what happened. The word “faggot” was involved, but whether it was said live or on the radio, in reference to Geffen himself or a pair of his pink shoes, is up for debate. Whatever she said severed their relationship. Some contend that she may have been in love with him, and was hurt when he spurned her advances. Others point out that she was growing frustrated with what she saw as his lack of promotion for her music. By this point, she was already making no secret of her disdain for the “snotty rock bands” she had to open for, and I doubt this did her any favors.

The contradictions in people’s stories exacerbate the larger-than-life quality of her life and times, as do the many cliches used to tell her story. Headlines variously declare her “a star that fame forgot,” “L.A.’s doomed lady of the canyon who lost her genius to drugs,” a “mystic” who “walked among us.” The human Judee Sill is lost somewhere beneath this sensationalism. It is no wonder why her friends and family members, Tommy Peltier chief among them, feel so compelled to set the record straight by providing their version of events. In his remarks in “Songs of Rapture and Redemption,” Peltier is quick to discourage speculation about her drug use and past prostitution, declaring instead “She was just the most beautiful person.”

“Beautiful,” you may recall, was the only word Laura Veirs could come up with to describe “The Kiss.” When I first heard “The Kiss,” I was immediately struck by how inadequate the word was to describe what I was hearing. The song showcases the best of her efforts to induce mathematically precise intervals into intricate melodies that aren’t so much heard as felt. Her lyrics, confusing the sacred and profane, ride the thin ridge between love and logic, devotion and desperation. Over shifting and plaintive piano Sill sings a eulogy to stars bursting in the sky and begs a lover — god? — to come and hold her “while you show me how to fly.” I first heard “The Kiss” in a YouTube video, one of few that survives of her performing, whose introduction insists that she herself was determined to be a successful musician. Ironically, the video shows precisely why perhaps she couldn’t be: severe and guileless, Sill hunches over the piano as if it were all that exists, engrossed in the song’s intense and uncommercial emotional intensity.

Sill’s idiosyncrasies are on full display in “Songs of Rapture and Redemption”, a compilation whose greatest strength is its commitment to capturing the artist and all her contradictions in her own words. The sleeve features a candid photograph of a smiling Sill, alongside several of her paintings and drawings. The tracks included are a combination of live recordings, demos, and studio outtakes that lay bare the deceptive complexity of her compositions. In the Boston Music Hall performance that opens the record, Sill, armed only with an acoustic guitar, tells the audience “I’m going to sing you a few little songs before David [Crosby] and Graham [Nash] get here. I’d like to sing you this song called “The Vigilante”. It’s new, I hope I remember the words.” The self-effacing introduction notwithstanding, what follows is nothing short of revelatory.

An early highlight is “Enchanted Sky Machines,” a bluesy number about waiting for the end of the world where she trades her distinctive fingerpicking for pentecostal piano licks she picked up in reform school. There is an aching earnestness to the way she sings of swallowing her yearning, and it carries over into “The Archetypal Man,” which begins with Sill singing the song’s opening harpsichord solo. Before “Crayon Angels,” she describes how she would call up friends as she was writing the album and sing them instrumental solos, joking that it must have been hard for them to like her in those days. The crowd is in on it, and her self-deprecating humor belies a clear confidence in her talents and her musical vision that is justified by the virtuosic grace of her playing. Sill was a perfectionist who demanded and deserved creative control, a notoriously laborious songwriter who could be a tyrant in the studio, and these tendencies are on full display even in this humble solo set. When she introduces her second last song, “The Lamb Ran Away With the Crown,” she enunciates every word, then repeats it again — ”with. the. crown.” — determined to ensure the the audience walks away knowing exactly what she was saying.

The set ends with Judee’s signature song, “Jesus Was a Crossmaker,” which had only just been released to radio two days prior. She calmly reveals the song’s inspiration, an unhappy relationship with a “bandit and a heartbreaker,” and describes waking up one day with the conviction “that even that wretched bastard was not beyond redemption.” Her diction is clear, her tone less so. The audience, nonetheless moved, cheers and laughs. She goes on: “It’s true, I swear. It saved me, this song. It was writing this song or suicide. It’s called “Jesus is a Crossmaker” and I hope you like it.” Her voice seems monotonous for such an emotional confession, but that stops mattering as soon as the song begins.

Instantly her singing voice, freed from the perfectionism of her studio recordings, reveals itself as strikingly human. Precise, unadorned, free of vibrato, it is flat in places, sharp in others, yet cuts to the rhythmic core of each note. She struggles with a few of the intervals she has given herself to sing, but this only enhances the song, giving human voice to the mathematical precision of her compositions, linking the downtrodden with the divine. With her unpretentious voice and deceptively simple language, she strives to speak redemption into being. Her longing for it is audible.

Such longing is a key theme in much of sill’s work, and nowhere is it more pronounced than in “Crayon Angels”:

Crayon Angel songs are slightly out of tune

But I'm sure I'm not to blame

Nothing's happened, but I think it will soon

So I sit here waiting for God and a train to the Astral plane

Later in the song, she confesses “Guess reality is not as it seems so I sit here hoping for truth, and a ride to the other side”. Sill knows the truth she longs for is unattainable, at least in this lifetime — but she remains unflagging in her belief in something. It is this belief that motivates her music. To characterize Sill as a god-given genius laid low by fate undercuts her formidable musical ambition, and the sincerity with which she approached her craft. The work she created was not purely inspired by the divine, but instead strove for it, confronting the inevitable impossibility of reaching perfection with the all-too-human drive for beauty in the face of death. Still, one gets the sense that Sill herself, enthralled as she was with cowboy stories and cosmic secrets, might appreciate the mythic proportions her life story has taken. I like to think that she’s made it to the Astral plane, and that wherever she is, she’s smiling.

#h: assignment #h: 2018 #judee sill #music criticism #folk music #songs of rapture and redemption

[dralf0yy]

Come Back || G.W x Reader

A/N: This is really just based off some scenes from Descendants 3 that i thought was a lil angsty🤡 and it’s kind of an AU? Where like the muggleborns were separated from the purebloods by a barrier across the black lake instead of VKs and Royals

Summary: Y/n Y/l/n is a muggleborn witch who has trouble with fitting in. She finds an old potions book and one potion seems to catch her eye. It worked, but as they say, ‘All good things must come to an end’

Warnings: Swearing (not too bad tho)

Word count: 2.5k

Masterlist

For many centuries, muggleborn and pureblood (and halfblood) wizards and witches were separated by a barrier, just by the edge of the lake.

Purebloods got the perfect life at Hogwarts while we muggleborns, or ‘mudbloods’ as they would say, got left to live and go to school in the ruins of the previous wizarding war across the lake. It was all like that up until you and your small group of friends were chosen to attend Hogwarts. You thought the negativity in your life would cease

But you thought wrong

People still didn’t accept you due to your muggle parents being the ones to almost expose the entire wizarding world. The muggleborns didn’t appreciate the fact that their families had to be obliviated because of that but they came around eventually.

Unfortunately, it was a bit harder for the purebloods, and you didn’t fit in at Hogwarts. The Y/L/N name wasn’t very popular around the wizarding world since the incident

But when you met George Weasley and his siblings, they welcomed you like they had known you forever, despite the fact that you were a Slytherin, and you grew close

You and George started dating 6 months after you came to Hogwarts but you kept it a secret until the completion of the 1st year.

But things just got worse from there. More people would just send you dirty glares or whisper things about you in the halls because they think you put him under some spell

Everyone seemed to have a thing against you, even the professors. Snape even gave you detention this afternoon and took away 30 points, despite him being your head of house, for talking out of turn

*

You were just about to finish organising the books in Snape’s dusty old cupboard when one fell wide open onto the floor

You picked it up and glanced at the description of the potion on the page.

‘makes the affected become under the influence of having a platonic liking for the brewer. This will only work if they aren’t already like that’

Your eyes went wide. You had found a solution to all your problems (most of them anyway) in this book that belonged to the ‘Halfblood Prince’.

You shrugged, ignoring the name of someone who must’ve been some self-absorbed git, and folded the corner of the page to bookmark it

You went back to organising the last of the books and bolted out of there towards the girls’ lavatory on the 2nd floor, which you learned no one went into cause of Moaning Myrtle, with the worn out potions book in your clutch

You had arrived in such a hurry and had startled Myrtle upon your arrival but you were too focused on gathering your equipment to listen to her annoying rambling

You collected your things from the 2nd to last stall and began brewing the potion whilst thinking of a way to bribe the house elves to put it in the food for the feast

The substance in the cauldron started to boil and bubble up. You carefully poured some into a somewhat large dropper bottle and cleaned up your things.

You shoved the old potions book into my bag without thinking and walked out and towards the entrance to the kitchens

*

It worked!

It had been around a day since you managed to get the potion in everyone’s food

You were walking down the corridor whilst looking for a particular mop of red hair to spend your free period with and noticed that you weren’t receiving the usual negative remarks, but instead friendly glances and soft smiles

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice a certain redhead sneaking up behind you

An arm wrapped around you and a hand went over your eyes. You jumped being obviously startled but giggled when you realised that it was just George

“Hey Georgie, lost your other head have you?” You teased as he retracted and made his way around to your side

He chuckled, “Fred’s with Lee, they’re scheming”

“And you aren’t involved? Bit suspicious isn’t it?” You playfully narrowed your eyes

“Oh don’t be so anxious, love. I just wanted to spend some time with you out by the lake. I heard that someone has a little something set up there for someone very special. Oh and of course there’s you” He snorted while you smacked his arm

You rolled your eyes, “Well come on then, wouldn’t want it getting ruined by some reckless first years now would we?”

“Well of course not-”

“LAST ONE THERE IS A BOGEY FLAVOURED BEAN!” You yelled and sprinted backwards out the doors, so you could look at George

“HEY THAT’S NOT FAIR, I WASN’T READY- WOAH” he loudly whined while he tripped over a sketchy looking patch of grass, landing face first onto the ground

You cackled at the sight and fell onto the damp ground, clutching your stomach. George looked up at you from where his face was just buried with a small playful grimace lingering on his face

He walked over to your shaking figure and picked you up and threw you over his shoulder and you shrieked

“George you git put me down! I’m not a sack of potatoes” You wheezed out

“I will when we get to where the stuff is set up”

It wasn’t long until he set you down onto a soft, yellow and white spotted mat with your favourite food and sweets laying on top.

Your mouth was agape and George gave you a lopsided grin that was full of love and adoration

The playful atmosphere dissipated as you stared into each other’s eyes

“This is beautiful Georgie, but what’s it for?” You breathed out, almost too quiet for anyone to hear

“Well, I noticed how everyone has started to be a lot nicer towards you and I just wanted to show you how proud I was of you. Even though you had nothing to do with it,” George smiled, “Besides being the most amazing person ever” he continued

“Hm, such a suck up, Mr.Weasley. I’m starting to think ol’ weatherby is a bad influence on you” You teased and he softly chuckled, going on with his little speech

“I just.. I know how hard it was for you to cope with all the bullying and I’m especially proud of you for not giving into everyone’s bullshit.”

You shifted your gaze down at the mat and played with the hem of your jumper

A thing you did when you were keeping a secret or lying

“I didn’t seem to notice actually,”

Lies

“But now that you mention it, yeah, everyone has been nicer recently” You smiled and George sheepishly beamed back at you

“Anyways, back to the picnic,” George gave a wide cheeky grin, “Let’s dig in, I’m starving” He exclaimed and rubbed his hands together

You snorted at his childlike behaviour coming back whilst he dug into a fried chicken leg

*

You were absolutely stuffed, and judging by the way that George was splayed out on the mat, he was too.

There was a comfortable silence, besides students chatting and laughing in the small distance, until George sat up and blurted out,

“I just remembered! I have something to give you. It’s in my bag” You snickered

He got up and started going through his bag when realisation dawned over you

his bag was under your head

You abruptly sat up in horror remembering the potions book that you carelessly threw in there, “George wait that’s my-”

“What the- I don’t take potions. This must be yours” He gives you a sheepish smile and you let out a breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding in when he went to put the book away

He stopped his actions and mischievously smirked

“Ooh, bookmarked a page have you? Must be interesting then” He smirked and opened the book to the page it was bookmarked at

Your sense of relief was gone once again and you froze, scared of how he would react

His face contorted into a confused expression as he read out, “makes the affected become under the influence of having a platonic liking for the brewer..?”

Your heart felt like it was breaking out of your rib cage

“Y/n what.. Did you use this?” His eyes snapped up from the page to look at you

“I-no. Yes- maybe?” You couldn’t think straight. Your mind was getting clouded with doubtful thoughts

‘What if he breaks up with me?’

‘Will he hate me?’

“Y/n!” You flinched a bit at the sudden noise

“Are you even paying attention to me?” George huffed when you shook your head

“I was saying that you could get expelled for this,” he started to raise his voice, “What the bloody hell were you thinking?!” You flinched again, this time a bit more obvious than the last

“George.. please don’t yell at me- I meant well— You know that” You pleaded

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t stupid, Y/n-” You cut him off when you snatched the book from his clutch

You had enough and you snapped

“This doesn’t concern you, George. I had to do this. You wouldn’t understand, you’ve got a perfect life because you’re a pureblood” You stood up and grabbed the remainder of your stuff

George sighed, “I don’t know if you’ve realised, Y/n, the reason we took you in was because we were like you- are like you. We weren’t accepted by everyone because we’re not as rich as every other pureblood family. We knew how it felt so we took you in. Blood status doesn’t matter. And it would be bloody great when you realise that” he retorted

“Me? The reason I used that potion was because all people see me as is a muggleborn,”

A mudblood

A burden

A waste of space

“And I don’t know if you’ve realised, George, no one cares if you’re not as wealthy as the other pureblood families. The only people that really seem to have something against you are the people in my house. I’ve got them and the rest of the bloody school to deal with” You seethed at the redhead, whose face and neck had gone maroon from the anger building up inside him

You couldn’t handle being around anyone, especially George, so you ran. You ran as fast as you could and you were gonna keep going to until you bumped into Hermione, your best friend

Meanwhile, George had stomped back to the Gryffindor common room whilst muttering, “I can’t believe I trusted her. Probably has me under some spell like everyone else says”

Fred was sitting on one of the lounges playing a game of exploding snap with Ron, when he noticed George’s irritated demeanour

“What’s got your wand in a knot, Georgie? Troubles in paradise?” He teased, earning an unsatisfied huff from George

“Shove off, Fred” he retorted

“Ah so I was right. What seems to be the problem my dear brother” Fred calmly asked in contrast to George’s snappy behaviour

George sighed and frustratedly ran his hand through his soft hair, “Y/n put a potion in everyone’s food to make them like her. I trusted her Fred. I can’t even believe she had the nerve to put that into everyone’s food. What was she thinking?! It was reckless and stupid,” He paced and rambled

“It’s typical of her though. It’s what muggleborns would do-”

“-That’s too far George. You know muggleborns aren’t any different from us. She’s our best friend and your girlfriend. And so what if she put this one potion into everyone’s food? All she wanted was to finally stop getting bullied, it didn’t harm anyone” Fred sighed

“We put potions in people’s food for pranks and it doesn’t always turn out right. Yet, I don’t see Y/n getting mad at you and possibly ending your relationship because of it”

George scoffed, “You know I hate it when you’re right”

“All the more reason to be, Georgie. Now go you git. Find your girl” And with that, George bolted out of the portrait hole, out into the castle to find you

“I just don’t get it ‘Mione.. I thought out of all people, he would understand. But he didn’t understand at all and lashed out on me” You frowned and sat down on the grass by the edge of the lake

“Y/n.. George just doesn’t want anything bad happening, especially to you. He loves you and he doesn’t want you getting sent back over there anytime soon” Hermione begrudgingly replied, not entirely wanting to favour George over you

You didn’t say anything back, you just stared blankly at the other side of the lake thinking of going back. Maybe, just maybe, things would be much easier and better if you went back.

Better for George

He wouldn’t have to be burdened with having you around and having to be anxious about you slipping potions into food or be worried about being seen with you; A mudblood.

“He doesn’t have to worry about me getting sent back,” Hermione peered up from her book, intrigued by your response

“Because I won’t be sent back. I’ll be willingly going back. I don’t belong here, and I was stupid to believe that I wasn’t just a stupid mudblood. I was stupid to believe that anyone would ever really accept me here.” You spat and your anger and sadness resurfaced

“You’re planning on going back? What about our life here? I- What?” She stammered, unsure on what to do about your decision

“It’d be better for everyone else. I love you ‘Mione and I’ll miss you but I’m going back-”

“Well then I’m going with you.” She stood up and started to gather her books

“No, Hermione, I know how badly you wanted to come here to fulfill your dreams. I won’t let you throw all that away for me”

She looked at you with a solemn expression and sighed. She sat back down on the grass and looked up at you as if she expected you to sit with her

You resumed your place in the lush grass and leaned against her shoulder, “I’m gonna miss you y’know, but if this is the decision that you want to make then, I’ll support you all the way. We’ll tell McGonagall tomorrow” Hermione mumbled as you both looked out to the giant squid in the lake

“Don’t tell anyone else, please? I don’t want anyone to know that I’m leaving..” You trailed off as the reality of your decision was finally sinking in

“I won’t. Just promise me you’ll come back? Because you most definitely belong here, Hogwarts is for all witches and wizards, pureblood or not”

“I promise.”

********

Tags: @paigeyisme @slytherinlovesgryffindor @cleopatera

A/N: SO THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE I’M SO SORRY AND IT’S A LITTLE BIT ALL OVER THE PLACE BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!

- E

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasely #hogwarts #oliver phelps #oliver phelps x reader #james phelps #james phelps x reader #tom felton #tom felton x reader #matthew lewis #matthew lewis x reader #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader

[tiaragqueen]

Pernicious

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Dazai Osamu x Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,6k+

✂ Trigger Warnings: Implied isolation, possessiveness, manipulation

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

[Edited]

***

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“Now I don't expect your sympathy, this is what and where I want to be. For as long as my blood runs, love comes and goes. God knows, nobody loves you like I do.” - Nobody Loves You Like I Do [Emerson, Lake & Palmer]

“Nobody loves you like I do.”

The way he said it was so confident, so certain that you almost believed his statement. But you straightened up and scowled at him, determined not to allow him to poison your mind more than he already had. Not that you’d admit it, though. You knew that he knew, anyway.

And that was what made it aggravating to remember, knowing that he had and would always have an upper hand.

“Oh, yeah?” you sneered, raising a challenging brow. “Well, I don’t believe it.”

Dazai merely smirked; a wide simper that haunted your dreams more than you could count. He was savoring this, you knew it. You could feel his twisted enjoyment reverberating in your ears and finally settled on your bones. It pricked your skin like thousand needles, drawing invisible blood that he’d later drink in a wine glass as the fruit of his facile efforts on provoking you.

And he always won, because he knew you better than you knew yourself.

He slowly leaned to your height and toyed with the strands, the same exasperating smile still etched on his enigmatic features. Relishing. Deriding. Undermining. “Prove me wrong, then, sweetheart.”

The front door had long opened, beckoning you to infallible freedom. The nippy air of winter drifted inside and bristled the hair on your body, but you endured it. You wouldn’t show him another display of weakness, even if it was a mere shiver. Dazai always exaggerated things, like an excellent manipulator he was.

But he could recognize it, the faintest tremble and your ground teeth, regardless of the distance that separated you both. His foxy eyes examined you from head to toe, unblinking and persistent.

Shooting him one last glare, you slowly backed away and bolted out as if fearing that the door would close and disappear from your sight forever. You could feel the lingering stare on your back, and finally, you shivered. You didn’t bring any jacket with you, but the natural coldness couldn’t compare to his gaze.

The gaze of an ex-mafioso. The gaze of a man whose feelings you could never comprehend. The gaze of someone who had destroyed your life slowly yet surely.

All in the name of love.

Then again, what did he know about true love anyway?

You hugged your chest and observed the snow-laden city, occasionally glancing behind in case he was stalking you without your knowledge. There was no sight of Dazai everywhere, so far. He must’ve really freed you, for a moment.

You weren’t a fool; you’d predicted the outcome. It was easy to see, you’d be dumb if you miss it. Still, you grabbed the chance anyway. Who knows, maybe you could actually win this time. And as farfetched as it sounded, maybe you could outmaneuver him somehow.

But, first, you needed a place to crash in.

Now that you thought about it, how long has it been since the last time you’d contacted your friends? Or your family? A day in Dazai's apartment felt like a month to you. It felt uncomfortable to suddenly ask them to stay at their place when you never bothered to leave a text, but you hoped they’d understand your plight.

They would, right?

You shook your head resolutely and headed towards your best friend’s apartment. No, this wasn’t the time to be pessimistic. You needed to make use of the opportunity he’d presented to you. Dazai might not be stalking you right now, but it didn’t mean he was ignorant of your whereabouts. You didn’t have any money or a phone, not even a cent, so you couldn't possibly leave the city. And Dazai's connection was limitless.

But as you ascended the stairs that led to your friend’s room, you wondered if it wasn’t too late to ask for Atsushi's help. Or, heck, the whole agency. But it meant you had to face him again, wouldn’t it? And with how intelligent and unreadable Dazai was, you had no doubts he could easily overturn the situation to his favor. For all you knew, he might’ve already thought about that kind of scenario.

So, that left you with no choice but to seek outside assistance.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted a shaky hand and knocked on the door hesitantly. You weren’t aware if your friend was home, but you prayed to God she was.

And finally, after seconds filled with desperate pleas, the door cracked open. Wide eyes peeked through the slit, and when they landed on yours, they instantly squinted.

“The hell do you want?” she hissed, much to your shock.

“Kimi!” you sputtered, mentally racking your brain to pinpoint the cause of her abrupt hostility. Was she angry because you suddenly cut all contact with her? Because your presence was unwelcomed? Or did you accidentally offend her in the past? “I-I need your help. I know it’s sudden, but hear me out–”

“Hell yeah, it’s sudden.” she snarled. “After you mocked me yesterday, you have the guts to show your disgusting face at my doorstep.”

All energy immediately dissipated from your agitated body, leaving a hollow shell behind. “What are you… talking about?”

You’d never seen her rolled her eyes so hard in your entire life. “Oh, so now you’re playing dumb, huh?” she sneered.

“N-no, I swear! I didn’t know what you were talking about!”

“Okay. Well, let me refresh your memory, then.” Kimi retorted sarcastically, thrusting her phone against your face. It displayed a myriad of vicious messages that you sent to her concerning her family life; messages that you didn’t remember sending. “I mean, I know that I came from a broken home. But you didn’t have to shove it to my face, you know? You have no idea how painful it is to hear it from people, especially from my own fucking best friend!”

Her voice cracked at the end, and yet, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the wall of texts. There was only one culprit who would do this, but you didn’t expect his savagery to extend this far.

“No, you… you’re wrong, Kimi. I didn’t… I didn’t send these, trust me. I don’t even have a phone!”

“Bullshit!” she snapped, the veins on her forehead throbbed. “You’re always like that; making excuses. Even after I broke up with my boyfriend and had a fucking meltdown in my room, you never came! What the fuck am I to you, [Name]?! A toy for you to play with and throw away after you’re bored, huh? Is that it? Is that what you think of me?!”

“Kimi, please! Calm down!”

“Don’t you tell me what to do! You basically left me all those months alone, and now you showed up again looking all innocent! Like you didn’t suffer a single shit about the pain you’ve caused to me!” Kimi shoved you from the doorstep, intent on kicking you out of her sight forever. “Go! Go and never come back, you ungrateful bitch!”

The slam of the door echoed in the empty hallway, but you still stared at it. You stared and stared, hoping that what occurred just now was merely your imagination. Because there was just no way she'd yelled at you, right? There was no way she'd broken your long-time friendship. No, she didn't... Right?

You gazed mutely before sighing, turning your back against the room that had welcomed you countless times. You looked ahead, feeling like a ghost as you wandered down the familiar staircase and out of the complex. People nonchalantly bustled past you, unaware and uncaring towards your slumping figure and vacant eyes.

You kept walking and walking until you found a lone bench and plopped down on it. You stayed impassive for the next couple of minutes, ignoring the person that sat a bit too close beside you. You said nothing even when they stretched their hand behind you and slowly caressed the strands that framed your catatonic mien.

“So, what’s freedom feels like?” they inquired. “Is it liberating? Or is it suffocating?”

… Why did you think you could outmaneuver him again? You must’ve gone bonkers somehow.

“I’d be liberated if you disappear from this world.”

Dazai chuckled, a sound too cheerful and high-pitched for your liking. “Oh, you know me so well, dearest,” he said good-naturedly. “But you know it, [Name]. As long as you’re still alive, I’ll never disappear from your life.”

You whipped your head towards him and snapped, “What else do you want from me, Dazai?! Aren’t you happy that you’ve destroyed everything?! Aren’t you happy that you’ve destroyed my friendship?!”

“I wish I am,” he mused and lied his hand on the bench, disregarding your rancor. “but there’s still one thing that I haven’t achieve.” Dazai leaned towards you, nimble fingers stroking your parted lips. “Your love.”

You swiftly grasped his hand before he could insert a finger into your mouth. “And you’re gonna fail, I’ll make sure of it.”

Dazai looked upwards and hummed questioningly, pretending to think about your feeble threat.

“I don’t know, [Name]. You seem pretty clueless right now. Your friends are turning their back on you, and you’ve estranged with your family. How can you ever hope on surviving with such minimal contact? You do realize that humans can’t live without other people, right? So even if you don’t love me, you’ll learn to appreciate my presence. Because I’m the only one left in your life now.”

“You’re crazy.” you spat, scowling at his certitude.

He grinned childishly as if he hadn’t declared his involvement in your estrangement. “I know, but you like me, no?”

Kimi: 貴美

#yandere anime #yandere oneshot #anime yandere au #yandere imagine #yandere anime au #anime yandere #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere dazai osamu x reader #yandere dazai x reader #yandere dazai osamu #yandere dazai

[georgemackayhey]

Silver Lining: Chapter 2

In which you and George decide to make the most of life after meeting up at the wrong place at just the right time...

w/c: 3k

a/n: Thanks for such lovely feedback, already! This has been so much fun to write and we’re just getting started y’all! Please let me know if I forgot to tag you or if ya want to be added ♡

taglist: @etherealallure @maria-josefin @shelbygirlsclubx @loulouloueh @clarkewithameme​

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───※ ·❆· ※───

Seen yesterday 11:12 am

Of course, he hadn't responded to the shared google doc, you laughed to yourself in the car park of the airport. What were you thinking, inviting a stranger on holiday? You were nearly full of more regret than excitement for your pending adventure. But here you were, double-checking all the things in your handbag.

A pair of sunglasses, your plane tickets, and passport all accounted for, you unplugged the charger from the console and double-checked the time on your phone screen.

Right on time. You locked your phone, sliding it into your bag as a wave of nerves swept through you. Was this even going to be any fun? What was the point of going on some big romantic getaway if-

Your phone buzzed in your hand before you had let go all the way. When you pulled it into view a single notification lit up your screen... from George.

Wait up for me? ;)

Oh. Oh? You found yourself staring between the text message and his name in the corner of the screen. Was he really coming? Or was the cheeky emoji his way of sardonically letting you down easy?

You clutched your phone, trying to read between the lines as you collected your luggage from the back seat. You glanced at the message again as you locked your car and made your way inside the bright airport. Would lingering around the lobby make you look like a loon when you were inevitably left all alone? Would checking into your flight summon George, but all too late?

You glanced down to your phone one last time, decidedly turning it off along with your useless worries. You slid the device into your bag, reaching for your tickets and passports in exchange. And right when you turned your heels, you stopped in your tracks.

"Good morning!"  

It was him. George Mackay was stood there, in some high-end joggers, sporting perfectly messy hair and a smile that made you wonder what he had to be so damn happy about.

"You're here."  You realized, looking him up and down like taking notice of the laces of his shoes would solidify his existence.

"For some reason, I am." George nodded, shifting his weight as you stood staring. You wondered for a beat, what exactly you'd gotten yourself into. But all at once, a family of four rushed by in a hurry to the tune of their father chanting, "We're gonna be late!"

"Shall we?" You decide, remembering you were on a clock. You extended one of the plane tickets to George, whose already pleasant grin grew during the exchange.

You moved together, checking your bags, shifting through security and strolling amongst the slew of fellow travelers.

As you walked through the airport alongside George, crept into a conversation about how you’d both ended up here. About your recent ex’s, how for a dozen different reasons you should have seen it coming. How it was still sort of hilarious the way it all came to an explosive head. As George laughed along with you over the shitty situation, you felt more like you’d been catching up with an old friend than getting to know a new one.

Sure there was an air of elusiveness between the two of you, but it didn’t seem George had anything to hide. He took his time forming most of his responses, knowing there was a certain level of trust being built as you marched toward spending a handful of days together. But even though his quips were quiet and maybe even coy, he spoke in a manner that was confident and sure. You found yourself in a bit of a daze, studying his face as he spoke. He wore a hint of a smile and an almost furrowed brow. His sparkly blue eyes glancing at you every now and again, as if to check you were still listening.

All these factors added up to dampen your worries over if this was a good idea. George hadn’t given you a single reason to feel unsure of his company. He even asked somewhere back at the baggage claim if you were sure about his tagging along. By the time you wound up at the waiting gate, it seemed you’d found fast friends in one another.

“Are you sad about the wedding?” George wondered, sitting on a stool at your side. You rested your purse at a low risen bar, spinning on the stool to face him.

“I guess a little. I’d spent so long planning.” You shrugged. Funny how you really didn’t miss Colin, though. You explained to George how you met Colin in high school, before he got a big fancy job and fell in love with the money and power he gained. How you’d already settled into the role of doting on him, and you stopped feeling anything for the guy a while back, but only realized after it ended. You explained how you were glad for it now, but how it scared you a little to have been so blind.

“What about Chloe? Do you miss her?” You wondered, propping your elbow on the table at your side, and resting your head in your hand.

George gave you a lifeless grin, casting his eyes off in the distance as he explained how she was hardly ever around. How he wasted more breath begging for her to pay attention to him than ever actually spending much time together. How he felt silly for trying to make it work, after realizing all the signs it never would, were there from the beginning.

“I wish her the best, though, I suppose.” George sighed as if he wanted to hate Chole for what she did, but his purely kind soul wouldn’t allow it.

“I found her Instagram last night and scrolled through. I wanted to be mad at her, but I wasn’t. I mean, lots of her posts were pretty annoying, but I digress.” You gave a light chuckle. The girl had thousands of posts and saved stories, most of which were emoji saturated over-filtered bullshit. But she was studying to be a nurse and she had a family and friends who cared for her. She was just a normal girl who fucked up.

George hummed in a sort of agreement but the way his brow drew together made you toss him a look that demanded he speak his mind.

“Social media really isn’t my thing,” George informed matter of factly. Ah, so that explained why you hadn’t been able to find any accounts of his, last night.

“But you’re famous. Isn’t that like the prime place to advertise or whatever?” You chuckled, sitting up a little, stretching to shift positions.

“I’m not famous,” George stated, plain as day, that same perplexing micro expression lacing his features together. You huffed a laugh as his expression remained,

“Well, I recognized you and I'm nobody. We live in different worlds." You pointed out, playing along.

“That’s not true, is it? Look at us now.” George rose a coy brow as if to prove a point. A montage of muddle memories of the past couple days flashed across your brain as you looked to George, realizing this was really truly happening.

“Why’d you decide to come anyway?” You wondered all of a sudden. Shouldn’t he be off charming a few news anchors or something?

George sat up a little from where he’d been slumped against the counter space, giving a small slow nod as if he knew this question was coming sooner or later.

"Well... I've got some time to enjoy myself before I start my next film. The last one I worked on was, well it was intense. Made my head spin a bit, if I'm honest. The next one will probably do the same, so I figured a bit of spontaneous fun was in order."

"How could you possibly enjoy work like that?"

"I like bringing these stories to life, even if they're hard to tell. Besides, not all of my roles are quite so intense." George explained, drumming his fingers on his knee for a beat. "Ah, but you should know, I'm apparently quite famous."

He cast you a blank look, waiting for you to crack a smile before he did. With a shake of your head, you let out a laugh and stopped marveling over how you ended up here long enough to appreciate the fact that this was happening at all.

And then, it was time to board the plane. You found your seats, watching the last of the passengers cram their belongings overhead.

"Why Rome and Barcelona?" George asked as he settled by your side once more.

"Colin wanted Barcelona. I wanted Rome so he booked it first to get it 'out of the way'" You mocked your ex, feeling more grateful by the minute to be rid of him.

"You really scored with that charmer." George snickered, relaxing back against his seat.

"And now I have a masochistic actor taking his place. I'm so lucky."  You shot back withholding a massive grin. You did feel pretty damn fortunate.

"You literally asked for it." George pointed a finger your way.

"You literally offered." You countered. His lips were upturned, and parted as if he wanted to respond but only a defeated breathy laugh escaped. It caused you to wonder if he was regretting making the strange offer. If he'd suddenly realized what he was doing and wished he'd never agreed to it.

That's about the time the plane started to jet down the runway. When the wheels lifted off the ground, the small worry in your stomach spread to your chest and everything seemed so insanely wrong all at once.

"I've never flown before." You admitted quietly, gripping onto either armrest and hoping the feeling of dread would pass if you alluded to it out loud. George glanced to you, sitting up a little straighter, and speaking up in that tone of his that was calm yet demanding all at once.

"It's just like a roller coaster, just at first. Then it's like nothing."

"I threw up on Splash Mountain." You fretted, the one and only ride you ever had the experience to draw from.

"Gives a new meaning to the name aye?" George joked, but you could find it in yourself to laugh along.

You knew George was only trying to keep up the banter you'd picked up somewhere back at the airport, but you were far too freaked out to join in. You hoped the sorry look in your eyes was enough of an apology before you screwed them shut, trying to ignore the invisible vice around your throat.

"Okay, it's alright, you've just gotta breathe." George shifted beside you, leaning in a little closer to gently relay his message.

"My heart's beating so fast I can't even feel it," You admitted. It felt like the buzz from the broken air conditioner vent overhead, with a flap vibrating against cold air. George followed your gaze to the thing but shook his head as your focus remained.

Then, without a word, George gently tore your grasp away from the armrest. He decidedly pressed the back of your hand to his chest, holding it there as he said,

"Focus on that beat and try to match it."

His heartbeat was unmistakable and strong. His concentration was on you, and you were almost lost taking note of the exact color of his eyes. They were sodalite, the color of a world you could have easily lost yourself in.

"Thanks." You mewled, daring to keep your focus on George, forgetting for just a split second, what you were so anxious about.

After you'd gained composure, and there was no reason for your hand to be intertwined with Georges any longer, there was still a nervous flutter in your chest.

George eased into a conversation about his favorite books, asking you to list off yours, joking that you needed to find something in common besides the grim reality of being recently dumped. He made you laugh, and he listened when you spoke. You'd almost forgotten where you were headed, and why, entirely too lost in the fun you were having on the ride there.

By the time the plane landed, it was as if you'd planned for this trip together all along, with George rambling about the things you'd organized in the google doc you shared.

In the blink of an eye, Rome was alive all around you, at long last. You passed through colorful markets and waved to musicians in the streets as you took a short journey to a hotel just outside of the city.

When you ended up in the bustling sunlight saturated lobby, the very kind and tired looking woman behind the front desk let you know that the room you'd reserved wasn't quite ready. She very kindly offered to stow away your bags until then, while you decided to take to the streets.

All the while, George was always somewhere right behind you, charming the lady at the front desk and making a cab driver laugh so hard he cried. You realized you were in the presence of someone very special, George wasn't like anyone you'd ever known. And strange as it was to sit by him in these sudden change of plans, it was oddly familiar. It was as if it was always meant to be this way.

The cab dropped you off in the heart of the city where you pointed out sights and ordered some coffees from a vendor to fuel your stroll through town. You were finally in the place you'd longed to end up, even having only just gotten there, there was so much beauty to spin around and soak up. The sun was low in the sky, peeking through a dusty alley in a quiet part of the city you'd wandered to. When you took to a bench to rest a beat, you checked your notifications and found your phone was full of missed phone calls from your mother. You couldn't help but wonder if you'd made some kind of mistake.

But then there was George, lingering a few feet away, snapping photos of a street sign like a dad on vacation. The golden sun highlighted his charming features as he turned to you with a smile.

"I see why you choose this place. It's like nothing bad can happen here." He spoke, sauntering your way with that same dopey smile he'd been sporting all afternoon.

"What about in the '80s when that girl got kidnapped by the police and the church covered it up?" You spoke up, crossing your arms as he approached you with the shake of his head.

"You're a real ray of sunshine, huh?" George laughed, shifting his weight to stand right in front of you. "There are bright sides to every story too, ya know?"

"Says the guy who keeps auditioning for horrific films." You shrug with a grin. This was what you'd been doing all day, trying to uncover each other's layers between the deepest level of small talk imaginable.

"Okay, first of that's just a lie," George pointed, "And who says I'm not looking for the bright side in those stories? Why not try and make the most of the bad part of life?" So that's why he was here, you figured. But you had to counter him.

"Sometimes life is just shitty ya know?" You shrugged as a breeze blew past.

"Yeah, well not now. Come on, let's go get some dinner." George held out his hand for you to take, pulling you from where you sat on the bench. You couldn't help but chuckle as you followed his lead. Your shared laughter echoed through the empty streets as George directed you to an eatery where tiny tables were packed into a vine-covered stone patio. He'd found his way there without fault, leaving you to wonder if he'd been here before. And if he hadn't, George's assuredness was admirable.

The crowded restaurant was full of smiling faces, yours included. Everyone vendor and passerby you'd interacted with thus far was incredibly kind. Rome was everything you'd imagined and more, and you'd only been for a couple of hours.

As you ordered food and ate, you and George went on slyly getting to know each other. He mentioned his family, comparing the dinner he ordered to his grandmother's best recipes. You admitted your mother had phoned a dozen times throughout the day. George insisted you call her back right away, recalling a time he ran off as a boy, almost giving his mother a heart attack and still felt guilty to this day.

So to cease his pestering, you called her right in the middle of your meal. The conversation with her wasn't very long, as you informed her you'd taken off on the trip you planned for and that you'd call to tell her the rest of the story later, only ringing now to let her know you were safe and fine.

And by the time you finished eating, George refused to let you pay for any of it.

"You've planned and paid for most of this trip. I can't just tag along with nothing to offer" George laughed, but swatted your hand away from the bill all the same. "So it's either I pay for dinner or I force you into some spectacular plan and blow all my savings on it, your choice."

"You're impossible." You nodded, slumping back allowing him to pick up the check, just this once.

Back at the hotel, the lobby was just as full of people as it had been early in the day. You almost reached out to George as you pushed through the crowd, just so you wouldn't lose him, but you didn't.

After collecting your room key and luggage, you were greeted with your first issue. It was inevitable for something to have gone wrong, but the stakes were a little higher now, in the company of a man you just met. You didn't even know his middle name.

But now you were stuck in Rome together, in a teeny tiny hotel room with one small bed and a wooden chair in the corner.

"I'll go see if they can switch rooms." You sleepily sighed, spinning to head back down the couple flights of stairs you'd just trudged up.

The same sweet woman at the front desk looked even more exhausted when you reached her again and you almost felt bad for asking, but you had to.

When the lady regretfully informed you that they were entirely booked, pointing to a walk-in who opted to sleep in the waiting lounge, you wished her a goodnight and worried all the way back upstairs.

"We could take shifts like they did in the war." You shrugged, informing George that your trip down to change things proved unsuccessful.

"I don't think that's a viable option." George chuckled. He was sitting in the rickety wooden chair, thumbing through a paperback that rested on the desk beside him. Before you could speak up again, he shut the book and stood, announcing that he was going to get cleaned up for the night.

You sorted through a few of your belongings as George occupied the bathroom, pacing at the end of the tiny bed. The room was quaint and warm and held all the charms you'd longed to be surrounded by. But what the hell were you supposed to do now?

You kept on trying to brainstorm when it was your turn to clean up, but you'd had far too much to still try and process about today, that your mind went blank.

Back in the room, You found George settled below the paint chipped window, leaning back against the desk. His legs kicked across the floor, that old ratty paperback in his lap.

"George, get up you're not sleeping on the floor." You sat on the edge of the bed, turning back the covers. He twisted to gaze up at you, confused.

"Come on, we're grown-ups and we're only here two nights." You gestured for him to occupy the bed space beside you, easing toward the edge best you could. You could practically hear him thinking from all the way across the very small room.

"Don't make me count to three." You threatened, giving George a look. He let himself smile as he rolled his eyes and stood with a sigh. He turned off the light and somehow after you'd both situated under the covers, there was a miraculous sliver of space between you.

Worn out from all the travel you were nearly asleep when your head hit the pillow. Tomorrow was a tour of the Sistine Chapel and the Vatican. It was the day you'd planned for a million little things you'd always dream of doing, but now, you felt guilty.

"George..." You spoke out, quiet as you could, gazing out of the window you faced.  "If you got to spend a day in Rome what would you want to do most of all?" He offered to tag along on your trip, but you wanted him to have fun, too.

A beat passed in the still of the night and you figured the guy on the opposite side of the small but arguably cozy bed, had fallen asleep. But then in a low gentle whisper, George replied...

"Do as Romans do."

When in Rome, you thought... It was a saying used as an excuse to indulge but you'd forgotten it really meant to adapt to your situation, to roll with the punches and not get hung up in trying to fight or figure out the natural flow of things.

With that, you fell asleep, dreaming of waking up to another adventure

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

An Ever-Fix’d Mark: Cinderella!AU

Part I

Word Count: 1,839 Pairing: Jaskier x Reader, Geralt x Yennefer Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ a/n: A retelling of the Cinderella fairytale as popularized by Charles Perrault. Inspired by reader request.

Spring was the busiest time of year for the Lettenhove markets, the gorgeous blooms drawing in visitors from all the neighboring lands. You’d been going to the markets since you were a child yet never had it been quite like this. As you wound your way through the crowd you could glimpse a familiar face in the distance. Yennefer waved you over and you began to make your way to the sorceress you had befriended years before. When you’d met her she’d looked quite different but she was the same Yennefer. Well, significantly more powerful, and intimidating to many, but you saw a side of her few others did, and you were grateful.

“What’s going on? Are we going to war?” you asked, yelling to be heard over the din of the crowd though you stood mere inches from your friend.

“House Pankratz is throwing a series of betrothal balls. Well, they won’t call it that, but everyone knows that’s what they’re for,” she explained, gesturing to an announcement pinned to the stall of tulips nearby.

“What does that have to do with us?” you asked. Though the markets were one of the few places that people of all classes mingled, many of the ones here today seemed to be fellow peasants.

“They’re hiring more people on to help with the preparations. It’s going to be quite the spectacle,” Yennefer explained, amusement playing about her lips.

“Well that’s something I suppose,” you admit, “Too bad none of them will get to see it.”

“They may not, but you shall,” Yennefer said, turning and walking farther down the line of stalls.

“What does that mean?” you called after her, hurrying to catch up.

“Just what I said,” she replied enigmatically, “You are going to that ball if I have to take you there myself.”

“Why?” you asked, catching up with her as she fingered a length of cornflower blue ribbon.

“Because you need to get out and this could be the way for you,” she said simply.

“Since when did you concern yourself with my future?” you asked.

“I’ve been concerned for a while, I just haven’t said anything because I knew you’d be stubborn,” Yennefer answered. You stared after her as she let the ribbon go and kept moving through the stalls, chasing after her and peppering her with questions, throwing a quick apology to the man you bumped into in your pursuit.

———————————-

“Sorry!” the woman called.

“No worries!” Jaskier called back to the woman’s retreating back, eyes turning back to the man walking next to him. “Explain to me again how this is a good thing.”

“Your parents mean well, Jaskier,” the man responded, his voice deep and brusque. The milling crowds parted for the two men as they walked though some perked up in recognition.

“Viscount Pankratz! Many congratulations on your approaching nuptials!” a merchant called. Jaskier forced his face into a grim smile and waved.

“They may mean well but it’s humiliating. And invasive,” Jaskier replied, keeping his face in the pantomime of a smile while biting out the words.

“What do you intend to do about it?” his friend asked, not for the first time. Jaskier stopped and turned to the man, hand on his hips in frustration.

“That is the fourth time you’ve said that or something like it, Geralt, if you have an idea I’d very much like to hear it,” he said, exasperation plan on his face.

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted and then, miraculously, spoke again, “Don’t do it.”

“Oh, that’s your brilliant plan, is it? Just don’t do it. If only I’d thought of that before, what a mastermind you are Geralt! How is it you were shunted off onto me as a bodyguard instead of being my father’s advisor! Truly Lettenhove suffers from the loss of such sage wisdom,” Jaskier groused, gesturing grandly.

“Alright then go,” Geralt said, an edge of frustration to his tone.

“I am going but… Well damnit, Geralt, it isn’t fair. I should get to choose who I marry or if I marry. It’s not like we’re royalty, the land won’t suffer if I don’t create any heirs,” Jaskier muttered. Geralt watched the wheels turn in his friend’s head and stayed silent as he worked through it. They’d stopped near a stand with tulips and Geralt caught a scent of something in the air. Something unlike a tulip. Lilacs? Gooseberries? It was the briefest moment, but it distracted him long enough that when he looked over, Jaskier was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and began searching for his friend and charge.

———————————-

“You’re not my mother Yen, you don’t have to worry about me,” you insisted. Yennefer had continued her shopping though you’d protested the entire way.

“Of course I don’t have to, but I am. Sometimes we feel things we can’t help,” she replied and then turned to you, focusing her violet eyes on yours, “Y/N, what do you lose from going?”

“Perhaps my life! Impersonating a nobleperson can be punished up to and including death,” you answered in hushed tones as though fearful someone would overhear and apprehend you for even uttering the thought. Yennefer waved away the concern.

“The first of the balls is hosted by the people. It will be held in the gardens tomorrow and all are invited,” she said.

“That never really includes peasants, Yen, you know that.”

“And yet the law does not prevent you from attending. Especially when you arrive dressed as you will,” she said with an enigmatic smile.

“Alright, fine, I will go to that one ball but only that one!” you insisted.

“Very well, but I am going to prepare just in case you change your mind,” Yennefer said and turned back to the stall, checking a bolt of midnight blue fabric.

“What do you think is going to happen anyway?” you asked, leaning against a roll of brown velvet, ignoring the glares from the merchant, “I find some nobleman who asks me to marry him and I run away and live happily ever after?”

“Perhaps not marriage but you can’t climb higher if you keep your head down. They want you to think that you can but they only do that so their own positions stay secure. Do you like this red?” she asked, holding up a swatch of silk against your cheek.

“Why did you come back?” you asked. Ever since she’d returned, looking the way she did now with the abilities she’d grown, you’d wondered why she would come back to a place she’d been so eager to leave. She smiled, a soft smile that reminded you of the girl you’d known and the woman who still held that tenderness somewhere hidden deep inside.

“I had very few friends then and somehow even fewer now. I value what I have, and I believe in protecting the things that I value. And people,” she added. You smiled back at your friend and resolved to stop protesting. It was just one party, after all. Things would go back to normal soon enough.

———————————-

“Oh Geralt there you are, look at these beautiful instruments,” Jaskier as Geralt finally caught up to him, standing at a stall selling instruments. Geralt bit back the many things he wanted to say to Jaskier about running off. There would be time for that when they weren’t around people who may not take kindly to him condescending to the Viscount that way. But there would be a conversation later.

“You already have a lute,” he said instead.

“Yes but Geralt not like these,” Jaskier said, gently strumming a tune. It was ornately decorated and the quality of the wood was much better than the one he’d been gifted when he showed an instrument in music when he was young.

“You know I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” Jaskier said as he reluctantly handed the lute back and walked away from the stall.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, listening.

“If I did leave, I think I’d like to travel. Perhaps making money performing. People do it all the time,” Jaskier’s voice grew a bit distant as he spoke, blue eyes glazing over as he daydreamed.

“Hmm,” Geralt said.

“It’s true that I don’t want this marriage. Or any of it. But I have this… problem. It’s you,” Jaskier said, turning to face Geralt whose brow furrowed in confusion and frustration.

“What the hell do I have to do with it?” he asked, past caring who overheard his tone.

“Well what would happen to you if I left, Geralt? You know you’re only here to keep me safe and if I left you’d be let go and I know it wasn’t easy for you to find the work in the first place. If you hadn’t saved me from those elves it likely never would have happened,” Jaskier explained. Jaskier worried for a moment that Geralt had finally completed the transformation into gargoyle, his features frozen in that severe expression as he stared at Jaskier, unmoving.

“Geralt?”

“That’s bullshit,” Geralt bit out.

“Well hey now –“

“If you left I’d go with you,” Geralt finished. Jaskier opened his mouth and then shut it just as quickly.

“You would?” he asked. Geralt avoided Jaskier’s eyes.

“Of course. You’d never survive without me,” he said. He glanced up and saw Jaskier smiling at him, a smile that was as teasing as it was sincerely touched.

“If we did this,” Jaskier said, his voice growing serious, “We’d be fugitives. My family wouldn’t take this quietly and there’s no telling what they would do to you if they caught up with us.”

“Then we don’t let them catch up with us,” Geralt replied simply.

“Right,” Jaskier said, nodding and thinking and grappling with the sheer audacity of what he was considering.

“Right,” he said again, his voice resolute as he smiled up at his friend.

“We’ll need time to plan,” Geralt warned as they continued walking.

“The parties start tomorrow. There’ll be the people’s party, then the court’s party, then mother’s party, then father’s party and then the engagement party. Do you think we could finish preparations by the fourth night?” Jaskier asked.

“Yes, that’ll be plenty of time. As long as you do everything I say and there are no distractions,” Geralt said. He opened his mouth to add another warning, but it came again, lilac and gooseberries, he was sure of it. He gently caressed the bolt of dark blue velvet but quickly looked back up for Jaskier, remembering what happened the last time, but the man was still standing in front of him, deep in thought.

“Four nights. Just four more nights,” Jaskier said to himself. Then, turning back to Geralt he said, “This is the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

“You’ll be fine,” Geralt grunted, clapping his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, “As I said, no distractions.”

“I’ve gone to loads of events like this Geralt,” Jaskier scoffed, making his way back towards the market entrance with Geralt close behind, “What could possibly distract me?”

#jaskier x reader #geralt x yennefer #the witcher #fanfiction #An Ever-Fix'd Mark #Cinderella!AU

[atamascolily]

lily watches fma:b, eps. 62-64

Okay, when we last left off, the Big Bad was running around half-naked in a bathroom smiting people in a knockoff young!Hohenheim body, and 50 million people in Amestris had a really shitty day being devoured alive for their life energy before being miraculously restored to their still-breathing bodies by a not-quite-deus ex machina.

hohenheim challenges father to create something and he spits out humans from Xerxes--including the asshole king whose greed destroyed his entire country and people who RECOGNIZE HOHENHEIM.

[like, the trauma here!!!]

[I also like JUST NOW REALIZED that Greedling is the same character archetype as Grimmjow from Bleach - an aggressive, hyper-macho asshole who is a surprisingly fun character to watch break things?]

[FURTHERMORE both 03!Greed and Grimmjow had the same Japanese voice actor, LOLOLLOL]

greed and olivier have a pissing contest, lol

al's body is destroyed protecting may - good thing he's got another one waiting in the wings!

and then it's everyone takes a turn at father - first the briggs soldiers, then roy with hawkeye guiding him, armstrong, lan fan,the chimeras, etc,etc,

roy is so weirded out by being able to cast without a circle, LOL.

father tries to eat greed for more stones

ed swooping in in to defend greed is GREAT

so is watching izumi fight!!

anyway, they finally wear father down to the point where God can fight back and Father vomits him back up again.

... which makes him literally a zombie staggering around for "stones"

ed's automail is shattered, and he's pinned down - al, realizing his armor is cracked and his blood seal is about to break, gets May to make a circle so he can swap out his body for Ed's arm.

it works and ed goes absolutely feral on father.

(the fact that he still looks like hohenheim probably helps ed, tbh)

everyone cheers him on and greed is like "oh, yeah, all I really wanted was FRIENDS,"sob

greed sacrifices himself to keep ling yao from being eaten by father and it's so heartbreaking, everyone loves u greed

greed is like, yeah, kid, lan fan has a stone, take 'em and go home and be emperor of xing like a boss

greed: so epic he gets to die TWICE in this show. AND WE'RE SAD BOTH TIMES BUT THIS ONE IS WORSE.

greed transforms father's body into graphite (using his Ultimate Shield ability) but gets crushed by father.

ed slams a hole in father's chest and all the philosopher's stones leach out of him and then... the black grabby shadow hands emerge from the same hole and pull him back wherever he came from...?

[ngl: I don't get WHY that works, but okay.]

and of course, he gets to monologue about how he just wanted to be free without any constraints, which gets hohenheim all emotional.

Father is back to his flash form in the Gate World and he calls Truth "God" and asks why he didn't like him... and truth's like "because you're a greedy little asshole, that's why"

father is sucked back into the open gate by more grabby shadow hands and says "no, I don't want to go back" implying that this is, in fact, where he came from because the Xerxes alchemists were fucking around with stuff they shouldn't have been.

father is screaming and truth's like, "why? this is TOTES what you wanted, isn't it?being one with god?"

meanwhile, hohenheim offers his own life in exchange for al on the grounds that he was  a crappy dad.

true, sir, but also ed is having none of it

anyway, ed offers his own gate and ability to do alchemy as trade for al's body and truth's like "Sure, yeah,why not"

turns out that even once they've won, hohenheim is still brooding and depressed over father - he blames himself because it came from his blood? Like, dude, there are a lot of things to blame yourself for and you pick the one that REALLY ISN'T YOUR FAULT?

armstrong thanks him for ed and al saving the day and hohenheim bursts into tears and walks off... and goes to resembool to die on tricia's grave?

like, did he even say good-bye to his kids? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, HOHENHEIM?

pinako finds him dead at the grave, and tbh, i'm disappointed she doesn't punch him out anyway like she promised

"goodbye, my weird immortal friend"

Anyway, umm... that's basically the end, but let's wrap up with the "where are they now?" final episode!

somehow ling is emperor because he has magic people juice to give the current emperor, which just... seems like it might lead to problems, given what happened in xerxes? Just sayin’. But he’s going to take care of May and her clan, so I guess the show’s just going to sweep that under a rug and pretend it’s fine!

[ling definitely got the best character development of anybody along with Greed]

marcoh shows up with a philosopher's stone, which Roy agrees to use to rebuild his eyesight and also Havoc's legs, which just feels a little too deus ex machina for me, and also kinda shaky ethics here. but roy's okay with it because he's going to rebuild ishval, so...

and apparently scar is gonna be there, too? still forever grumpy, though.

grumman is fuhrer now (??!!) because roy and company are rebuilding ishval, so I guess all that talk about war crime trials was just for show because that sure isn't happening now that they won.

[I'm still bitter because it should have been Olivier!!]

Mrs. Bradley is raising Pride/Selim, who seems perfectly normal, even though Grumman says they'll have to kill him if he does anything evil. Mrs. Bradley says, "I'll make sure he doesn't show anything," which is kinda ominous to me? Like this woman would do anything for her kid. If Pride DOES get out of hand, she's not going to tell anyone.

[also I'm bitter that Pride gets to live and Greed DOESN'T, sob]

Ed and Al hang out in Resembool with Winry for two years until they get restless and go off on adventures again--but separately. Al goes to Xing with Jerso and Zampano (who have suddenly decided they want their original bodies back after being fine with it for the entirety of the series).

That's fine, since Al and May are very definitely a thing, but Ed goes west--which we've never heard from in the entire series--by himself, to research alchemy after sacrificing his ability to DO alchemy. I CALL BULLSHIT.

Winry goes with him to the train station and Ed is so fucking tsundere, I cringed just watching him.

(but also it was refreshing to see a male example of this trope and it was super-cute when he started blushing)

BUT ALSO his proposal is based on "equivalent exchange" - "I'll trade half of my life for half of yours!" - which is simultaneously the nerdiest thing ever and also YOU'RE NOT AN ALCHEMIST ANYMORE, ED, STOP.

Winry says that's stupid, she'll give him all of it,and then starts negotiating to 85%.

but given that Ed is LITERALLY RIDING OFF here, I gotta wonder how the math works out.

A random woman asks why Ed's leaving if he's in love with Winry, and Winry says something about how men left at home cause trouble (which implies she's fine with a long-distance relationship). THIS FROM THE GIRL WHO GOT MAD ABOUT BEING LEFT BEHIND ON *SEVERAL* OCCASIONS IN THE SERIES.okay.

In the credits, we see Ed and Winry have two kids, so... Ed has LITERALLY BECOME HIS FATHER, wandering the earth while his wife raises two kids alone. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

I just have... questions.

Like... no. Just no. Ed stayed home and he was a great father to his kids, full stop. He did NOT repeat the cycle; he was a much better person than Hohenheim and he proved it by actually BEING THERE FOR HIS FAMILY WHEN THEY NEEDED HIM.

people say fma03 has a downer ending, but this one bums me out WAY more because it feels so ooc and contradicts a lot of stuff that the show has spent so much time building up to.

i am just left feeling very “meh” and also “what was the point of it all?” which is probably not a great place to be after finishing a story.

#fullmetal alchemist #lily liveblogs

[give-baek-my-love]

Keep It A Secret (II)

Characters: Jimin X Reader X Jungkook

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Series: Intro, One, Two

Description: Without even a simple goodbye, Jimin, your childhood best friend , left to Seoul to pursue his dream as an idol. Ten years later just when you thought that you were finally ready to let it all go and start your own career as an idol, you’re left in a situation where it seems your past isn’t ready to let Jimin go just yet.

[BREAKING] Dispatch reports BTS’ Jimin and Purple’s Chaejin are dating.

You stared the article title countless times, too afraid to read any further. Although both their faces were mostly covered up with hats and face masks, you could immediately tell them apart. You remembered Chaejin wearing that exact jacket just hours ago before she headed out. You also could tell that the male who was holding the car door for Chaejin was Jimin just from the slight view of his eyes that were peaking through from beneath his lowered cap. 

What the fuck.

There were millions of questions running through your head. How did they even get to knowing each other? With BTS and the group’s busy schedules how did they have to the time to start dating? Sure your group would sometimes bump into BTS, but it was also just a brief glance or greeting.

‘How do you think they met?’ April asked, diverting your attention away from your own thoughts. 

‘I don’t know.’ you mumbled. You felt nothing. You wanted to at least feel some sort of feeling but all you just felt numb. You just couldn’t process the fact that your best friend and ex-best friend were dating.

Perhaps April sensed that something was wrong because you suddenly felt her warm hands gripping your arm,

‘Are you okay?’

Once again peeling your eyes away from the screen, you handed her back the phone without reading beyond the title. Giving April a slight nod, you dashed into the washroom to hide the tears that were quickly streaming down your face.

In hopes of hiding your sobs, you turned the tap on full blast and sunk to the floor allowing yourself for the first time to embrace the emotions that were running through your body.

No. No I’m not okay. -

You don’t know how long you stayed in the washroom, but eventually Manager Kim knocked on the door and told you to finish up whatever you were doing and meet him along with the rest of the members in the living room.

After washing your face and glancing into the mirror, your puffy red eyes were all you could see. Your reflection in the mirror no longer looked like your old self. She had hollowed cheeks and eyes that seemed much too big in contrast to her slimmer face, all highlighting just how much pain and hardship you had to go through in order to become an idol. But all that blood, sweet and tears that you went through was nothing compared to this heartbreak. A heartbreak whose cause was simply self-induced, all because you fell in love with your childhood best friend ten years ago, someone who could never imagine would ever feel the same way.

Eventually you walked out of the bathroom and saw that everyone including Chaejin was back. She was smiling. She was practically swimming in joy. Perhaps if she wasn’t your best friend and perhaps if your career wasn’t partially because of her doing, you would have yelled at her by now, asking why she would jeopardize the group’s future like this.  Everyone knew how much a dating rumour could negatively affect the group, so you wondered why she as the leader would do this when the group’s popularity was just starting to rise. Instead of taking the avaliable space next to Chaejin, you decided to squeeze yourself next to April who was seated the furtherest away from the leader. The whole group knew that you and Chaejin were very close, so close that the two of you basically never left each other’s side, so when you decided choose a seat that wasn’t next to her, you earned a couple of confused glances from the members. 

Clearing his throat, Manager Kim began,

‘I’m sure that you are all aware of the article about Chaejin that dispatch uploaded early this morning. The article has been confirmed to be true. Whether you all knew about it prior to the article or not, the company and BigHit both confirmed the article to being true. Also whether or not you like or dislike their relationship, the company and I just hope that you will all not let your emotions and feelings ruin the group’s atmosphere and schedules especially when in front of the media and fans. That being said, the company has decided that the group will go on a short break just so the public and fans can have some time to digest the information and won’t bombard you guys with questions about their relationship. During this time, you are allowed to stay in Seoul if you wish so, if not, you can go back home and visit your family, or take a small vacation if you like, but you must let us know ahead of time. Lastly, just as a reminder the dating ban is still in full effect for everyone else. If you have any questions you can come to me or Manager Lee to discuss.’ 

You were angry not only because  the entire group’s schedule had to be canceled all because of Chaejin’s relationship, but also the fact that she was the only exception to the dating ban. You wondered if perhaps it was because her father owned the company that she was allowed to do as she pleased, but regardless you found her actions childish and selfish, which seemed very unlike her. Chaejin was always known to be rational and well planned, so she must have known that the media always had eyes on BTS whenever they were up and about, but why did she so openly go on a date with Jimin? It almost seemed like they were purposely showcasing their relationship. 

With no further questions, the members all started discussing their vacation plans and ideas. You determined that distance and space was what you needed right now so you were going to take the first train home tomorrow morning and visit your parents for the first time in a year. 

Just as you were about to get up and start packing, Chaejin sat down next you and asked,

‘Are you mad at me?’ 

You debated on lying and tell her that you’re okay and that you’re happy for her relationship, but the betrayal that you felt was impossible to ignore. 

‘Yes. I am. Why did you do it?’ 

‘I... I’m sorry. I should have told you first, but if I knew that if I told you before I saw him last night you would have stopped me.’

Stopped her? Does she seriously think that I would have stopped her from going on a date? 

‘Stop you? Chaejin why would I stop you from dating? I just wanted a heads up. I don’t care that you want to date, but I wish that you would have at least considered the consequences and had been more careful. We all worked so hard to debut and publicly dating right now could really ruin our reputation.’ 

‘Y/N... I’m sorry. It’s just...’ She started but then quietly trailed off. 

Something was off. Chaejin seemed like she was holding something back. Although most days you wouldn’t pester her, today you simply just was not in the mood for anyone’s bullshit. You assumed that no matter what she said the day truly couldn’t get any worse. 

‘Okay. You’re hiding something. Tell me. I’m done with these secrets that you’re keeping from me.’ 

Suggesting that the two of you needed to talk in private, you moved towards the bedroom. 

‘Tell me.’ you said the moment Chaejin closed the door behind her, wasting no time at all. 

Watching Chaejin take a deep breath, she quietly said, 

‘It’s a publicity stunt Y/N.’ 

‘WHAT?’ you couldn’t help just blurt out loud. 

Taking another long deep breath, Chaejin seemed like she was trying to collect her words before finally continuing, 

‘The whole date was planned Y/N. Dad said that although the group was doing well, he thought that we would have done better by now. So... he suggested that the we create some sort of commotion or event for the public to learn about. And I suggested that maybe a dating scandal would be ideal-‘

‘You’re fucking with me right? You came up with the dating scandal? Do you know how badly this “stunt” of yours could go? What if this backfires? What are you doing to do then?’ You angrily cut off. 

You were furious but also stupidly glad that she wasn’t actually dating Jimin. You were angry that your best friend was willing to put the group’s future at risk all because the group’s popularity wasn’t as high as the company wanted it to be. You knew that rising to the ‘top’ was not something that would be easily be done. Simple the act of performing in front of an audience was always something that you dreamed of and you thought that Chaejin believed in the same idea, but clearly that wasn’t it for her. 

‘Y/N… my dad was so upset and worried about the group. And… with my dad and Bang PD being cousins, the scandal was easily organized. I know that you don’t agree with me doing this, but I didn’t want to upset or disappoint my dad. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you earlier. I knew that if I told you about this you would have tried to talk me out of it, but I couldn’t let this chance slip.’ 

Wait. CEO is related to Bang PD? 

You had so many questions, yet you didn’t know where to begin. Perhaps Chaejin noticed how taken back you were because before you could even construct a question, she explained,

‘I didn’t know that my dad was related with Bang PD either. At least not until recently when my entire family celebrated my grandma’s 80th birthday. You know how big my family is, right? Half the aunts and uncles that I saw that night I’ve never even met before, and don’t get me started on how many cousins I just discovered I have.’

You were starting to understand and digest the current situation, but you wondered,

‘But why Park Jimin?’ 

You thought that perhaps her dad or Bang PD randomly chose a member from BTS for the scandal, but immediately froze at the sight of Chaejin suddenly looking flustered. 

Oh no. 

‘Y/N…. I like him.’ 

What? 

You broke into a cold sweat with those three simple words. 

Chaejin likes Jimin? 

You remembered all the times when the group was interviewed about their ideal types and how Chaejin always answered saying that Jimin was her ideal type, but you always thought that it was just a simple celebrity crush. Never something like this. Your mouth opened and closed over and over again without a single spoken word. Shocked at the sudden confession, you were too shaken up to even speak. If you could dig a hole in the ground at this very single second, you would have done it, anything to just escape this uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

The room had gotten awkwardly quiet, and it was Chaejin who was the first to speak up as you were staring into nowhere specific with your mind racing at a mile per minute,

‘Y/N why didn’t you tell me that you knew Jimin?’

Snapping your gaze to Chaejin, she seemed uncomfortable and somewhat hurt. 

‘How did you know that I knew him?’ you asked. 

You had spent the last eleven years keeping the knowledge of Jimin away from Chaejin mainly because just the mention of his name could almost bring you to tears. You couldn’t deal with the fact that a part of you still wasn’t over him. For the past years no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to fall in love with another person. You had always found yourself comparing every single man to Jimin and none of them could even compete with him in your eyes. Park Jimin was meant to be the one and only secret that you kept away from Chaejin, but now that she knew about your secret, you suddenly felt more naked and bare. 

‘When I first saw Jimin last night it was awkward and we didn’t say much, but once I brought up that you and I were close friends he told me that the two of you grew up together and were best friends before he had to leave to Seoul and pursue his career as am idol.’ 

Close friends.

Although he was your best friend growing up, you had always wished that perhaps even once he would have thought of you as more than a close friend, but he had made it clear to Chaejin last night that the two of you were simply just friends. The two words left a bitterness in your mouth that you wished would just go away. 

When you left Chaejin without a single comment, she asked again, 

‘Why didn’t you tell me about him? Did you… like him Y/N?’ 

‘Chaejin… stop that’s ridiculous. I didn’t tell you then because it’s all in the past. We were close once but like he said he moved away and we just broke around that’s it.’ 

You tried your best to stay composed, but unfortunately with her as your best friend, Chaejin saw right through you. 

‘You like him.’ She simply stated without an ounce of uncertainty. 

‘I liked him.’ 

‘Y/N don’t bullshit with m-‘

‘I’m not doing this right now with you okay? You can choose not to believe me if you want to. That’s your decision. Whatever I feel for him doesn’t matter because I’m not the one that might screw our group over.’ 

Perhaps if the conversation wasn’t about Jimin you would have reacted differently, but because he was still such a sensitive topic, you couldn’t control the feelings that were racings in your head. Without giving her another chance to continue on, you grabbed your bag and headed out of the room towards Manager Kim asking him to take you to the train station immediately. 

- 

The train ride back home went by quickly as you stared blankly through the window and into the outside world. Your mind kept racing though everything that had happened in the last 24 hours and kept worrying about the future of your group. You couldn’t help but worry how this scandal would change your group’s future, how it would affect the atmosphere between the members, but most importantly you couldn’t help but worry about how the fans were going to react. It’s only been a year since the group had debuted, but you had already grown attached to them. They were the ones who cheered you all on, and they were your main source of happiness so they meant the world to you. Lastly, you hated to admit it but you were worried about Jimin. You worried about how he would handle this scandal. Sure the date was planned, but the reactions to the scandal are something that no one can predict, and you were worried about how the public would react. 

You had spent the last years trying your hardest to move on from Jimin, and even though you knew that becoming an idol meant that it was no longer possible to ignore his existence and even mentally prepared for what you thought to be every single possible situation, never would you have thought that Chaejin, your best friend and leader of the group, would be dating Jimin, your first love. 

*Ding* *Ding*

Throughout the entire train ride your phone had been constantly alerting you of new messages, but knowing that it was probably going to be Chaejin, you decided to ignore them. 

- 

Your parents were surprised to see that you were home without any prior notice, but once you briefly explained to them what had happened, they quickly empathized with your current situation and decided to spend the day simply relaxing at home. 

Simple. And relaxing was exactly how the first few days of your vacation went. For the most part you spent the days just sleeping, or at least trying to sleep, eating all your favourite foods, and spending quality time with your parents and close friends. Ever since Jimin’s parents had found out that you came back home, they asked your parents for the two families to plan a dinner party, but you constantly declined their invites. Of course you knew that his parents meant well, but after what had recently happened, you didn’t want to be reminded of Jimin. 

- 

It had been a week since the company had announced the group’s indefinite break before your mom finally started asking questions. Although you had explained that you were just disappointed of Chaejin’s decisions, she saw right through you. 

One morning after your dad left for work, your mom joined you on the couch adn asked, 

‘How’s Chaejin and the other members doing?’ 

‘Most of the members went home. I’m not sure about Chaejin.’ You shrugged. 

While you had kept in contact with the other members, you purposely ignored all of Chaejin’s phone calls and text messages. The truth was you didn’t know how you felt about the entire situation. Of course you wanted the group to do well, and the scandal would become a source of advertisement for the group, but the fact that the scandal could also end badly for the group made it very worrisome, and it didn’t help that Chaejin was ‘dating’ Jimin. If you were being completely honest with yourself, what made this the most uncomfortable was that you were still so attached to Jimin, even if it was one-sided, you couldn’t stand the idea of someone as important as Jimin being dragged into such circumstances that could cause harm on his end. And of course it goes without saying that you were jealous and worried that Chaejin and Jimin would become close and actually end up dating. You knew that Chaejin had always had a crush on Jimin but you didn’t think that her celebrity crush could turn into anything more, however knowing that now she has a chance to go on dates with Jimin and spend time with him, you couldn’t help but feel jealousy boiling from within. 

Although you had said few words about the situation since you came home, Chaejin’s mother had called your mother the day you went back home to explain the entire situation and when your mom called Jimin’s mother to confirm the dating rumour, it turned out his mother was just as surprised as everyone else. Your mom had hoped that you would eventually open up and talk about the situation, but when she saw that you were getting increasingly upset every day, she knew that she couldn’t keep quiet anymore. 

‘Y/N it’s okay to be hurt.’ She suddenly said. 

Turning to her, you were so shocked with her comment that it took you a couple of seconds before you recollected your thoughts and said, 

‘I’m not hurt.’ 

Right? 

To be fair, you weren’t entirely sure if you were actually hurt. Uncomfortable. Yes. Jealous. Yes. But hurt? 

Grabbing your hands into hers, she simply said, 

‘I don’t need you to prove anything to me. I just want you to be happy and be honest with yourself. Okay?’ 

The two of you sat hand in hand for minutes, both not saying a word while you were slowly processing everything that your mom said. Were you happy? No. Were you being honest with yourself? I don’t know more. 

‘Mom… I feel like I’m losing.’ You finally spoke up. 

Instead of a response, she gave your hand a squeeze as a sign of encouragement to continue. 

‘He had left town years ago and all these years I’ve been telling myself that I’m over it, and the stupid thing is that I thought that I was actually over it. But when I saw him on the day we debuted, I felt it. I had spent so many years suppressing the emotions and feelings that I had for him that the moment I saw him again I became overwhelmed. I was in love with him mom, and I think that I still am, which is so stupid of me. How can I be in love with someone who I’ve lost contact with for over ten years? And what’s even worse is that now my best friend is dating him. I feel like I’ve lost him all over again… but the ridiculous thing is that he wasn’t even mine to begin with, so why do I feel like I’m losing him?’ 

- 

The next few days felt more relaxing, that was until you received a phone call from Manager Kim,

‘Chaejin told me that you haven’t answered her phone calls so I’m calling to tell you that Chaejin has a photoshoot with Jimin tomorrow and you need to be there.’ 

‘I thought our schedules were on hold.’ 

‘Yes, but there’s a clothing brand that wanted to use the two as models for their new clothing line.’ 

Great. They’re going to wear matching clothes and I have to watch? 

‘But why do I have to be there?’

‘I’m only here to relay a message. If you have any questions, ask Chaejin herself or the CEO. I wouldn’t even have to be doing this if you would have just answered her phone calls. I’m going to pick you up tomorrow morning at 8 so be ready.’ 

Without giving you a chance to refuse, he quickly ended the call. You were once again left feeling defeated, and honestly pissed off. In most cases if you were told that you had an upcoming schedule, no matter how tired you were, you would have been happy, but this schedule was different, you were basically asked to watch Chaejin and Jimin together. 

Are you fucking with me right now?

Needless to say, you had spent the entire night restlessly tossing and turning while dreading over the thought of having to see Jimin, and especially with the fact that having to see Chaejin meant that she would want to know why you were ignoring her phone calls. 

Morning came much sooner than you wanted it to, and before you knew it, Manager Kim was knocking at the door. The manager had explained that Chaejin left early to get ready for the shoot, which for your part was good news since you weren’t quite ready to talk to her. By this point you weren’t mad at her anymore, but you still couldn’t shake this jealous feeling away.

The small talks during the initial car ride had died down, and you sat in silence while Manager Kim drove. Eventually you fell asleep while staring out the window and woke up to the manager nudging you awake. Just after he opened the passenger door to let you out of the car, Manager Kim said,

‘I know that you may feel uncomfortable with this situation but don’t forget that we warned you about letting your feelings ruin the group’s atmosphere. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ You agreed. 

Manager Kim had always felt like a father figure to you, especially when being so far away from home. Although he was a man with few words, he always quietly took care of the group and never once had you heard him complain about of taking care of all the member’s needs. You knew that his best intentions were for the group to do well, so you made a mental promise to talk to Chaejin. 

Once Chaejin saw you entering her dressing room, she ran up to you and wrapped you in a warm hug. 

‘I’m so sorry Y/N. I knew that this was the only way that I could get you to see me.’ She mumbled into the hug.

Getting a whiff of Chaejin’s scent, you softened into the hug and suddenly realized just how much you missed your best friend. Although her dating scandal had caused some trouble for the group, Chaejin is indeed your best friend and you understood that just like how you needed to spend time back home, Chaejin probably needed her best friend during this time. 

Finally letting go, you apologized, 

‘I’m sorry that I didn’t answer you calls. I should have been there for you.’

Even though the company suggested everyone to not check the group’s social accounts, throughout the break you had signed onto the group’s Instagram and saw that though there were positive and supportive comments, there were also some negative and even offensive comments towards Chaejin that you hoped she didn’t notice. However, the sad smile that she gave you suggested that she probably already knew about the public’s criticism. After giving her hands a squeeze for support, Chaejin got changed into her first set of clothing while the make-up artist told you to sit down to get your makeup down. 

When Chaejin was finally ready, the two of you walked out of the room hand in hand towards the studio where the photographer would explain the shoot’s concept to her. To your surprise, Jimin was already there and talking to the photographer. When he noticed you, he looked surprised but then quickly maintained an emotionless façade. 

After Chaejin greeted the photographer, he happily explained the theme of the shoot, while you tried to your best to look at anyone and anything besides Jimin.  Even after a year as an idol, you still found controlling your emotions and facial expressions to be a challenge.

Let the torture begin.

- 

An hour into the shoot the photographer had announced that it was time for individual shoots with Chaejin going first. Knowing that Jimin would now have some free time, you quickly hurried out of the studio just in case he would try to engage in any kind of conversation because you were anything but ready for that. During the past hour Jimin had locked eyes with yours multiple times and you literally had to tear your eyes away from him just so your flushed cheeks could cool down. However, your plan clearly backfired when you noticed that Jimin was following you out of the studio. Shit. 

‘Stop following me.’ You warned him while walking forward without much of a thought in mind. 

Your brain was foggy. You couldn’t think straight. You had no idea where you were talking to, but the only thing that was for sure was the fact that you needed to get away from Jimin, because with him so close by, you couldn’t think straight. 

But that was impossible. Every time you turned around, he was there. The faster you walked, the more quickly he sped until eventually he caught up and pushed you past the staircase doors. 

‘Let go!’ You yelled as his grip tightened. 

Sensing that he was hurting you, he immediately released his grip and apologized.

‘Y/N. I… I’m sorry. Let me explai-’

Vigorously shaking your head while blinking the sudden tears away, 

‘No. NO. I don’t need this right now. I don’t need your apology. Not now. Not ever.’

*Click* *Click*

What?

You could have sworn that you heard the sounds of a camera taking a picture but when you looked around, there was no one.

Just as Jimin was about to speak up again, the staircase door suddenly opened. The two of you were greeted by Chaejin who looked just as surprise if not even more than you and Jimin.

‘Oh. Jimin. What are you doing here?’

Just seeing Jimin try to explain this current situation to Chaejin was souring your mood even more, so much to the point that it felt almost impossible to keep hide the anger that was fuming from within.

‘Fuck this.’ You mumbled before walking out of the door leaving the two alone.

I’m not dealing with this right now.

-  

For the rest of the shoot you hid in the dressing room and didn’t say more than half a word to Chaejinor Jimin. Once it was all over, you quickly thanked and shook hands with the photographer before speeding to the company’s car hoping that you wouldn’t bump into anyone.

Thankfully Chaejin’s schedule was done for the day and you were headed back to the dorm because you needed nothing more than to just sleep off the bitterness feeling that’s been lingering since your encounter with Jimin and Chaejin.

-

You weren’t sure how long you ended up sleeping for but eventually you were shaken awake by someone, and with just a glance outside the window the dark skies hinted that it was perhaps still early in the morning.

‘What’s going on?’ You groaned rubbing your eyes that stung from tiredness.

‘What the fuck is this?’ Chaejin furiously asked while shoving her phone in your face.

It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust before you saw this article and gasped in horror.

[BREAKING] Dispatch reports a possible love triangle between BTS’ Jimin with Purple’s Chaejin and Y/N??

The article was filled with pictures of you and Jimin on the staircase was yesterday. Although the pictures couldn’t capture much, there were a few pictures that showed a tearful picture of you, and even a picture of the three of you.  Suddenly you remembered the clicking sounds of a camera from yesterday. Someone must have been lingering around listening to your conversation with Jimin.

Holy shit. What have I done?

-

(Jungkook’s POV) 

Jungkook froze when he was scrolling through the group’s twitter and found articles tagging their account.

Jimin and Y/N? What’s going on?

It was past midnight and he was sure that most of the members were asleep, but he couldn’t find the patience to wait until morning to ask Jimin. Instead, he quietly headed towards the elder’s room but quickly stopped with he saw that the lights in the kitchen were still on. With a few long strides, he saw that Jimin was sitting by himself at the dining table with a blank look on his face. Jimin must have been fixated in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Jungkook’s appearance until the younger took the vacant seat next to him.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jungkook warily asked.

‘I…. I shouldn’t have talk to her. I shouldn’t have said anything. This wouldn’t have happened if I had just followed and done as I was told. I made a mistake.’

Jimin had spoken so quietly that if Jungkook sat any further, he wouldn’t have heard a single word. Just the sight of Jimin looking so disappoint and upset made Jungkook tear up. 

What can I do to help? - (The Next Day)

Today was BTS’ last scheduled day before their long-awaited two-month holiday. After finishing the recording of their last BTS RUN episode for the current season, most of the members headed back to their assigned rooms to start packing for their own assorted vacation plans.  Jungkook watched as Jimin silently walked back into his room without saying a single word. The latter had been staying in the same state the entire day, without saying much of a word, causing everyone around to worry.

Earlier in the morning Jimin was told to see Bang PD leaving the rest of the members to discuss the explosion on twitter about Jimin’s relationship with Chaejin and Y/N. While the members all knew that Jimin would never be the type of person to cheat on someone and that the scandal was simply a made up story, they knew that there had to be something that Jimin was hiding, however seeing how down he was feeling no one dared to speak up about it just yet.

Without another word, Jungkook quietly snuck into his room and scrolled into his phone until he found your number, a number that he stole from Jimin’s phone today while the elder went to the washroom.

The text message was brief, but not much words were needed.

‘Hi. It’s BTS’ Jungkook. I need you to open up my V-live in exactly 5 minutes. See you then.’

Not giving himself anytime for second thoughts, he quickly started his live on the app. He watched as the number of audience grew along with the amounts of hearts that were given, and did his best to answer and read the messages that many of the fans were posting. ARMYs meant the world to him, they were his light, they were his life, they were his everything, so he was unsure if what he was about to do next was correct or not.

‘Before I end this live, there is one thing that I want to ask here today. You have all greatly supported us throughout all these years and I’m hoping that nothing will change the bond that we share, so please be understanding with what I am about to say.’

After taking a deep breath to calm his shaking heart, he blurted out,

‘Y/N. Will you be my girlfriend?’

#bts fanfic #park jimin #bts #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #bts angst #jimin angst #bts series #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst

[bijoulilou]

If Jude's parents lived Pt 5

"We should've stayed in my room." I grumble. One of my drunk classmates dragged it across Laken's backyard and into the woods for me. They presented it to me with a sloppy sweep of their arms with slurred yet doting, 'My Queen.'

Cardan is impressed, "Why? I would have never gotten the opportunity to witness your rule firsthand. Though, I wouldn't mind returning to that conversation later." He nods before I playfully bump him with my hip as he leads me to accept my makeshift throne.

Locke calls over and Cardan sighs. Before he leaves my side, Cardan threatens me about the hip bump. How I shouldn't tease him so openly. How I might just find him bumping back. A blush starts across my face and when kisses my cheek, I deliberately pull the cap over his eyes. He retreats with a smile and another fleeting kiss, but on my lips.

Katie whistles appreciatively.

The boy holds the chair, with a bit if drunken swagger and accept it with an eye roll before the fire. I watch my subject enjoy themselves as I draw my knees up on the patio chair. My legs are cold due to the slits on the knees. I detest wearing constricting bottoms, modifications on all of my jeans attest to that. Taryn has to pick certain pieces of outfits to make it fashionable over my functional attitude.

Katie mirrors my eye roll. She sits on my lap, forcing me out of my previous stance. Mara is flirting with a girl from Taryn's circle and Katie narrows here gaze. Clearly irritated and partially jealous. My eyes go to Cardan as he listens to Taryn talk beside Locke. A bored expression drawn across his face as he drinks from his red cup. Locke reaches up to observe my knit cap, but he swats his hand away. Taryn laughs nervously, I can tell by the way she reveals her teeth beneath a tight tilt of her lips.

"Your sister is doing that annoying fake ass laugh. Ughhhh, how are you two related? Are you sure she isn't some evil clone or doppelganger." The last part isn't a question. I think she really believes that. It is my turn to swat at her. "Hey don't tease me when I'm vulnerable!" She jerks her head to Mara whose fingers are linked through the Taryn's friend's hand.

"Then don't say ridiculous crap." I wag my finger at her and she snaps at it. Before I can push her off and convince her to go over and tell Mara, her unrequited love, a familiar chuckle interrupts are little repartee. We both look up and Katie groans. Before she can tell Collin, my ex, to bug off, I greet him.

Katie throws her arms nonchalantly around me, she isn't drunk this is typical behavior. She seemed him unworthy when he broke up with me right after I got accepted into a university we both wanted. Not because he wanted to avoid the heart ache of being separated by distance. But because I'm the one that got in. Rumor is he got waitlisted. Can't say the same about my heart.

"Hey Jude," he sings and I ignore the way it tugs at old memories.

"What up fuck boi." I drink heavily from my cup, the beer's bitterness stops me from saying more.

Collin stops and looks around confused. Katie clarifies that I am referring to him. He frowns.

"Jude, can we talk...alone." Collin asks. I give a scrutinizing look, Katie plays with my hair pretending she didn't hear him.

"Yes. We are alone." Another sip to make it convincing. When he points out Katie, I shrug. "Oh this? This is just my friend scarf. It protects me from the cold."

"And utter bullshit." Katie clinks are cups together, we finish the last bit of the beer in unison. Taryn may actually be my twin, but Katie is my spiritual one. We can communicate with looks, clicks of our tongues or sets of our jaw. It really annoys the other players on the field. And Taryn off of it.

Collin shifts uncomfortably. I will not to be seduced by his amazing hazel eyes and adorable freckles across his cheeks and tan body. I try to push the image of his tanned toned shoulders out of my head. I feign a yawn.

Collin sighs and sits down in front of me. Not caring if the grass is damp or not. Maybe he is unaware of the way he is blocking the fire and the shadows play across his face.

Damnit I'm a little buzzed. I really didn't want to come because I knew Laken's brother, Collin might be here. Taryn always seemed to resent me for that. After we broke up she couldn't always go to her parties because of this situation. After a while she kept going despite my feelings. He takes a vape ciggarette out of his pockets, Katie wrinkles her nose. He gestures if we want to try it, but Katie shakes her head. She can't stand the smoky scent of cotton candy and gets up to leave. I glower at Collin, he sits back on his hands triumphant. A small smile on his lips.

"Did you plan on ignoring me this whole time?" Collin draws a big puff of mist and I wave it away as he apologizes.

"No, I didn't think of you at all actually." I turn my head to gesture at the bag of wine that's being tossed around. Mara in question is cheering while Katie tries to cover her eyes from witnessing someone spray wine out of their nose. Cardan's given the bag, and to everyone surprise he keeps drinking until somebody else taps him out. "That's why I'm here."

Collin frowns, "To play slap the bag?" I laugh and he gives me an impish grin. Such a lame move, but he can't help it. "I know who you're talking about. What does he have to with any of this? I mean with us." He gestures the sir between us.

I bite my lip, watching as everyone cheers around Cardan. We see as he dumps the beer and fills it back up with another bag of wine. Cardan tips his cup towards us, catching our audience and cheers to us across the way, with a wink towards me.

"He wanted to see what the fuss was about. " my mouth seems permanently tipped up in mirth around him," Besides there is no 'us' to discuss."

My eyes go over Cardan's dark hair, his high cheek bones and long figure. I gladly remember the slight yet prowess of his body, along with the kisses he left on my body. We share a look and I have to clear my throat before returning to look at Collin.

"I can see that." Collin's eyes focus on me and then flicker down my neck. They linger there and I smooth my hair on either side of my throat wondering if Cardanleft a mark for that very reason. To ware off potential suitors.

Collin continues, "He's not really your type. I almost thought he came with your sister. She has a thing for artists right?" Chin jerks to Locke who is now watching Collin and I intently.

Collin covers my knees with his hands. He must remember how quickly I get cold. In an instant I smoothly brush them off but manages to capture one and holds it. Theres a pleading look in his eyes.

"Jude?"

Locke surprises both of us, Collin doesn't remove his grasp right away. But when he does, he gives me a long lingering look before getting up. Collin rises to his feet and leans in, but I turn my cheek. Collin gets the message and walks away, but not before saying low enough for me to hear that he'll text me later. I answer back that it won't matter.

Locke takes his place with a sunny disposition. He's clearly intrigued but before he can ask, Taryn Joins us. She promptly sits beside him, resting her hand on his knee. Territorially. I catch a face that Locke makes, but it's too quick for me to register that it actually happened.

I feel a warm kiss on my cheek and Cardan sits on my lap. He drapes his leg over the side, mimicking what Katie did earlier. I laugh, he joins in at the sounds with an honest expression. He quickly rises so that I may sit on his lap instead. Cardan's hands cover my knees and I'm surprised by how warm they are. He draws me closer and I breath in his scent and I hear him take mine.

"Why're you so happy?" I ask, lips slightly pursed.

Cardan concedes and gives me a tender kiss. The kind that nips my toes, especially when his touch goes up my knee and I have to purposely stop him from reaching my thigh.

"Because I find myself in your company. I sought an audience with her majesty and you didn't turn me away."

My brow furrows, we are talking in soft whispers to one another. I can feel others watching, inebriated and sober. I myself feel a mixture of both. I ask him why is that so surprising. Before he can answer, Locke once again interrupts.

"Jude. Taryn tells me how you became well acquainted with the family of this estate. I am to assume that you were involved with that strapping young man that you were talking to." A muscle in Cardan's jaw twitches at his friend's words. My finger tips stroke the line of his jaw until it relaxes. I tell Locke that he is right, but that was a long time ago.

"Can't be very long. Your sister tells me it was just over the summer."

Cardan opens his mouth but I shake my head and turn in my seat to glare at Locke. Taryn softly hisses his name but I feel a rise of anger in my belly.

"It ended amicably. Can't say the same about you though. Nicasia had been with Cardan with a long time. I hear she has since favored you though." The girl with the blue hair from that night in the woods. Cardan's ex.

Locke's smile turns sheepish, "Whatever favor she holds is her own. I can only speak for myself and the favor I have for your sister." Taryn holds herself up a little more proudly.

"But surely it didn't start out that way. Perhaps my sister is uninformed of your way of swaying others or the methods of testing bonds amongst your circle of friends." Cardan says my name, his hands press me closer as if I'm going to jump out at Locke.

Locke's eyes fall on Cardan, "My my, what has my prince shared with you since."

I move so that instead we are locking stares. "It was not your prince who informed me. You would be surprised of what others in question have to say about it." I don't reveal my sources of the whispers of that night. Cardan told me some but not much. It was the gossip of the other faeries and VIvi who filled me in. Taryn's eyes widen and she steers the conversation on a lighter topic.

As the night goes on and Cardan is lead away to team up with some of my friends in beer pong. I find Locke staring at me as Taryn dances around the fire with others. Walking slowly and with purpose towards him, Locke smiles in a such a throw away manner that it makes my hands itch.

"Even though you seem calm, I can see the violence in your eyes. It's a popular opinion that you have some talent with a stick. Surely Cardan is impressed."

I lean against a tree and we watch my sister have her fun and the prince celebrate at his victory. Standing beside him I turn and say in a calm voice.

"You may drop your hints and double entendres here and there. But I can assure you, as you may well know, my father forges weapons for a living. Thanks to my athletic prowess, my mother has been able to teach me easily the way of the sword. Of what arteries are the most vulnerable and how to sheath a dagger swiftly into your chest with as minimum effort possible." I press a hand on his ribs and he backs up frightened. "If I were to strike right there, with the right amount of length of a blade. Your lungs would be punctured and you would choke on your very blood. Nasty way to die, especially for such silly games." I tuck my hands into my pockets and watch my loved ones in amusement.

Locke's hands tremble at his sides, he runs a shaky hand through his hair as I warn him to take care of Taryn and ensure she has a good time. And then to both of our surprise, I heed him against hurting Cardan ever again too. I slap his back and walk away. Cardan is so busy having fun that he doesn't notice the way his friend nervously joins my sister. I sit up against the tree to watch the everyone, Collin joins and asks to join me.

"You scared the shit out of that red head. He won't even look at you." He remarks taking my silence as a yes. It isnt but this technically is his land.

Before we had dated we were friends. Collin had always had crush on me and I had to admit I was attracted to him too. And yet, we could never understand one another. We had always wanted different things. He wanted the predictable and I wanted more. More of life, challenge and adventure.

"You know, you probably think we broke up because I was jealous of you for getting an acceptance letter when I didn't. But the truth is, I always knew you were going to outgrow me."

I look up in surprise and he shakes his head before I can protest. "You have always had this...hunger. This ambition. Not like materialistic or anything like that. You were never satisfied with this." Collin sweeps a hand but it doesn't feel like he's talking about the party or high school. But something more. "I can't explain it. I just know you're meant for more. And I couldn't stand in your way. " he moves as if he's going to leave.

I ask him to wait and he does for a beat, "You were never in my way." Collin opens his mouth, theres a hopeful expression but I stop him, "Regardless I was going to do those things anyway. But thank you for making it easier for me to say goodbye."

All those moments we shared are gone, Collin looks hurt at my words. I'm thankful for what we had but I'm even more thankful that he ended things when he did. Because they had long been over for me.

No ones watching, the noise of the party is almost deafening to my ears when Collin leans into kiss me. I put my hands up in protest, but its quicker before it's over. Collin tells me he loves me and then finally leaves me alone. My heart aches a little as his figure gets further and further away. I almost jump out of my skin when I hear Cardan's clipped voice behind me. I see a bottle of red in his hands and I wonder where must've gotten it when all I see are beer or boxed wine.

"It was hard to watch that. I couldn't stop myself from over hearing it. I mean I could but I found that I didn't want to." Cardan stares down at me as he leans against the tree. He tips the bottle back swiftly.

"How did you open that without a corkscrew? "

"Do you really want me to answer that or do you want to know how much I heard?"

Cardan and I eye each other, the air between us is full of tension. I sigh and get up to brush off the back of my jeans. When he doesn't say anything, I push my hair out of my face exposing the side my throat that Collin had been observing. The one that may or may not have a kiss mark from Cardan.

"Do you love him?"

My eyebrows raise in surprise but I answer truthfully," In my own way I thought I did. But the more I think about what our relationship..." I sigh and feel tears almost prick my eyes. "I did. But not anymore. The person I was then is the same person I am now. We wanted different things and if we continued on, it would only be holding off the inevitable."

We can't look away from one another. Cardan asks if we had wanted the same things, would that make any difference? I shake my head, no it wouldn't make a difference. Then he asks about my feelings toward him and I counter him with the same question. There in the forest we stand at odds with one another, guarded only with words but fighting viciously with feelings.

Cardan seems as if he's about to leave but instead he only places, unsure of how to phrase what he wants to say. "I've watched you for months now. Yes, it sounds dangerous and strange what I'm about to say. My intent was not to find anyone like you or feel the way I do. I had a mission and a purpose to be out there. I cannot tell you what it is at this time but please know that when I came upon you that day out in the woods." His words are fumbling together and he's gesturing with the wine, unable to look me in the eyes this time. "I found myself. At odds."

Cardan sighs before continuing, "I am not sure what it is that I feel for you Jude but its bounding on the obsession. I cannot sleep without thoughts of you nor can I focus upon anything else."

My heart seems to thunder in my ears, I feel like how others describe a car accident. Everything slows and you start to focus on every detail. The sounds of the party seem almost distant and it is only then that I feel very alone with him.

Cardan puts a little distance between us, almost as if hes afraid. Afraid of me, as if I was bewitch him if he came closer. His gaze stays fixed on the bottle in his hand.

"Is it because I'm a mortal? Kind of like a forbidden fruit." My shoulders rise up into a small shrug but Cardan doesn't say anything.

"I'm terrified." I admit and he finally looks up. I nod embarrased, " at first I thought it was a hormonal thing, or whatever. But I cant explain it. What I feel is overwhelming and maddening. I'm afraid that it will consume me."

" As am I." Cardan presses up against the tree and pulls the hat over his eyes. "I can't even look at you without feeling nervous."

With that I laugh and he begins to smile. Everyone is having an amazing time and here we are having a heart to heart.

"What should we do? Should we stay away from one another?"

"Why would we do that?"

Focusing in the flames. Which seem to be dying down, "Because from the sounds of it,whatever is going between us is unhealthy. It sounds like an unruly fire that will endanger and consume us."

"You're right, " he admits. "Perhaps we should."

"Do you want to do that?"

He answers too quickly, "No. Of course not."

"Then what?" I hear someone call my name. The fire is gone and all there is darkness and smoke. A few lights probably from phones, are guiding others back to their cars. "We should go."

Cardan doesn't move. With a sigh and heavy heart I start to return.

"Jude, wait." Cardan grabs my hand and he leads me out of the trees without the aid of light.

As we get in the Katie's car everyone is eerily quiet. Cardan asks Katie if he can walk me the rest of the way home. She points out that its dark but doesn't stop us. Waving goodbye, we walk down the very dark and incredibly spooky road to my house. I take this time to say what I want to say.

"Jude-"

"Cardan-"

We both start and I have to feel around in the dark for him. He presses my hands to his face, then his lips into my palm and fingertips. We promise to keep seeing one another. I make him promise to keep his word. And he makes me promise to see no one else. Narrowing my eyes in the dark, I point out that its physically impossible to see others.

"Jude, do not jest. You know exactly what I mean."

"No I don't. Say it exactly what you mean." I've caught on to his kinds ways. They can't lie but they can keep carefully worded promises.

"Jude. Jude. Jude." He prays, pushing my hair back, tipping my head as if to kiss me.

"Ah ah, Cardan. Say it."

"I, Cardan Greenbrier promise to formally court and stay true to Jude Duarte." On my tip toes, I'm about to seal the deal until--"Ah ah. Now you say it."

And I do. There in the dark I promise to be his girlfriend in so many words. He presses me to add that I should entertain no other offers of courtship, no matter how tempting. He has me say that word for word before finally giving into my kisses. We sneak in through my window, as quiet as can be.

We doze off until the sun rises. I practically push him out the window until he puts his hands up in protest.

"Do you really think your parents would mind if I stayed and joined them for breakfast?"

That earns a well earned glare.

"What if I told them I was a prince?" That earns a shoulder smack."Ow! A simple no would work fine."

Cardan, pulls off his ring and places it on my finger.

"What's this?" I ask as he half hangs out the window.

"This? Proof of my favor of course."

I tell him to wait a moment and I grab my cap with my name on it. "There, now you have proof of mine." With a quick peck we vow to see each other later. I watch his retreating figure narrowingly miss my dad on his way to his forget. Until I see him disappear into the trees, I finally crawl into bed. Lapsing into dreamless sleep until my prince comes to visit me again and I can show him the rest of my kingdom. It's only a matter of time when he shows his.

#tcp fic #tcp fanfic #twk fanfic #twk fic #jurdan #jude x cardan #cardan x jude #jude duarte #prince cardan #king cardan #cardanandjude #queen jude #cardan greenbriar

[emospritelet]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9][Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15]

AO3 link

We’re getting closer to a confrontation and some truth-telling between Weaver and Lacey, but it isn’t this chapter

x

Weaver was glad he had the distraction on his day off work of having arranged a play date for Tilly with Neal Nolan. He felt as though he was going slowly mad, but he knew that spending time with his daughter would do him good, not to mention it would give Nolan a chance to talk some sense into him. He needed that more than ever.

They spent the morning at the park, followed by a picnic lunch in the lounge while watching a Disney film. Nolan had suggested a painting session before their trip to the swimming pool that afternoon, and as it was his house Weaver figured it was up to him how much mess was made in it. They set the children up with a plastic sheet spread over the kitchen table, paint pots and brushes and a ready supply of old rags to mop up any spillages. After twenty minutes or so, Weaver left Nolan supervising the building chaos and went out to the garage, where his whiteboard was growing more cluttered by the day. He needed to add a good bit of information to it following Lacey’s visit to the station and his own research.

He had pulled a series of mugshots of local criminals who were known to be for hire to bigger fish, and lined them up at the base of the board, looking them over. Further investigations into the Black Fairy hadn’t yielded much from his informants, but there was general agreement that one of the men rumoured to accompany her during her visits had been dark-haired and fairly good-looking. He wasn’t sure which of the six potential candidates he had chosen would be the one, but he hoped that seeing their faces would spark some sort of connection in his brain.

“Daddy, look!”

Weaver turned at the sound of Tilly’s voice, smiling as she held up a piece of paper, dripping watery colour on the granite floor.

“Here, sweetheart, let me take that off you,” he said, grasping the edge and holding it level. “Wow, that’s great! Is that a dog?”

“It’s Wilby,” she confirmed. “Can we get a doggy?”

“Uh - I don’t think you can have pets in the apartment,” he said, and she pouted.

“That’s stupid.”

“I know.”

He studied the painted dog, a dark blue mess of colour with a bushy tail and a lolling red tongue about half its size. Perhaps there was a way to get a dog for her. It would mean getting his own place, perhaps a tiny house in the suburbs, but that would be better for her, right? Space to play outside, to rough and tumble with a dog, to be a kid. It was about time he gave up apartment living and thought about what was best for his daughter. Commuting to and from the precinct wouldn’t fucking kill him.

While he was thinking over their possible future, Tilly had walked over to the whiteboard and was staring up at it.

“Bad man!” she declared, and Weaver turned.

“Who’s bad?” he asked, and Tilly slapped one of the pictures.

“Bad!”

Weaver set down the painting carefully, moving to join her.

“This man?” he said, plucking the picture from beneath its magnetic button. “Have you seen him before?”

Tilly screwed up her face, then nodded.

“Where?” asked Weaver. “Did he come to the apartment?”

A pause, then another nod.

“Did you talk to him?”

“No,” she said decidedly. “He smells.”

“Good girl.” He ruffled her curls. “What about these other men? Did you see any of those?”

Tilly frowned at the pictures, then shook her head.

“Okay,” said Weaver. “Hey, how about you paint me a picture of Dragon while I make some lemonade for you and Neal?”

“Yeah!”

She ran back to the kitchen, and Weaver frowned at the photograph in his hands. A dark-haired man with a close-cropped beard and a faint scowl looked out at him. His name was Arthur Penn, according to the mugshot. A history of petty thefts, witness intimidation and assault convictions. It would be interesting to find out what he had been doing in Lacey’s apartment.

x

“So you definitely have it, then?”

Arthur’s voice was a drawl, the tone of someone who had heard it all before and suspected he was being lied to. Lacey felt her jaw protrude in annoyance.

“I said I’d get it, and I did,” she said curtly. “I’ve booked a flight out tomorrow morning.”

“In that case I’ll have someone meet you in Boston,” he said. “We wouldn’t want you to get lost, would we?”

“Fine,” she said wearily. “Whatever.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic about it.”

“I just want this over with, okay?”

“Alright,” he said. “Text me the flight details, I’ll make sure there’s someone waiting for you.”

“Great.”

She rang off before he could say anything else, texting the flight number and arrival time before dropping the phone on the bed. The apartment seemed very empty with Tilly gone, and she sat for a moment, staring at her hands where they lay folded in her lap, slim fingers threaded together. She couldn’t keep putting it off forever. It was time.

Fingers trembling a little, she picked up the phone again, this time to call Weaver. Every cell in her brain was screaming at her that she was a coward, that she should at least have the decency to look him in the eye when she lied through her teeth, but she knew she couldn’t do it. The faceless distance of a phonecall was as much as she could manage. At least it wasn’t a text.

“Hey,” he said, when he picked up, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He sounded - cautious. Could she blame him?

“Hey,” she said. “How’s Tilly?”

“She’s fine,” he said, after a pause. “We’re over at Nolan’s. Play date with Neal. They’ve been painting, so once we get them cleaned up, it’s off to the pool. I told them we’d go for burgers afterwards. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course,” she said. “You don’t need my permission.”

“Okay.” Another pause. “Look, I’m glad you called. I wanted to talk about this weekend—”

“Yeah, about that,” she interrupted. “I know I said maybe we’d do something, but I can’t. I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

“Nothing,” she lied. “At least, nothing serious. I have a funeral to go to, and it’d be easier if Tilly could stay with you for a few days.”

“Funeral?” he said. “Whose funeral?”

“Old friend.”

“Which old friend?” He sounded suspicious now, and she wished she could have come up with something more convincing. “The only friend I’ve ever heard you mention was in Maine.”

“Yeah, it’s not Maine,” she said quickly. “It’s Vegas. And - and it’s not really a friend, okay? It’s a family member that I’m not sorry is dead.”

“Right.” Silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She sighed, running a hand over her face. “No, it’s fine. Can’t decide whether I’m going to pay my respects or just make sure they’re really in the damn ground, you know?”

Weaver was quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Lacey.”

“Don’t be,” she said wearily. “Just - can you look after Tilly for a few days?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.”

“I know you have work, that’s all.”

“I can take some time off,” he said gently. “Just go and deal with your - family thing.”

“Thank you.” She bit her lip, clutching at the phone. “You’re good to me, Rafe. And to Tilly. You’re a good father. A good man.”

“I don’t know about the last part,” he said. “But you both make me want to be better.”

She screwed up her face, eyes stinging, and Weaver sighed.

“Lacey, I meant what I said. You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’ll be back by Tuesday, okay?”

“Are you flying?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need money?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he said. “When do you go?”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “First flight out.”

“Call me when you get the chance,” he said. “I’d like to know you got there okay. Safe trip.”

The phone clicked as he hung up, and Lacey tossed it aside, covering her face with her hands and wondering if she would ever hear his voice again.

x

Weaver slipped his phone back into his pocket, mouth twisting. The chatter of the children behind him was light and cheerful, an odd counterpoint to the dark clouds that seemed to be swirling around him. He glanced at the jug of lemonade he had prepared, condensation starting to form on the glass as the ice cooled it from within.

“You okay?”

Weaver started at the sound of Nolan’s voice, turning to face him. Nolan was staring up at him from the chair, concern on his face, and Weaver jerked his head towards the garage before striding off. He heard the squeak of Nolan’s chair as he followed. The whiteboard stood where he had left it, one of the pictures having come free of its button and fluttered to the ground. Weaver snatched it up, crushing it into a ball between his palms as anger and frustration made his breathing quicken.

“Whatever’s going on with her, it’s happening this weekend,” he snapped.

“Lacey?”

“Yes, bloody Lacey! She just called up to tell me some bullshit about a family funeral!” He fired the ball of paper at the wall, watching it bounce off and fall forlornly to the floor. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t leave Tilly and go chasing after her, even if I knew where she was going!”

“Didn’t she say?”

“Oh, she said she was going to Vegas, but that’s bollocks.” Weaver began striding back and forth. “No, I reckon she’s going to Maine. Storybrooke, to be precise.”

“What for?” asked Nolan.

“Not sure yet,” he admitted. “I may have a lead, though. Tilly recognised one of these creeps.” He gestured at the picture of Arthur Penn. “I think I might have a word with him.”

“Great, I’ll come too.”

“No, you fucking will not!” snapped Weaver. “Beating up Hamelin for intel is one thing, tracking down a fucking big bad’s lackey is something else entirely.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No fucking way, Snow would kill me!”

“Snow would kill you for what?”

The sound of his wife’s voice made Nolan start in his chair and crane his neck towards the doorway. Snow was standing with her arms folded, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, hey honey,” said Nolan lamely. “You’re back early.”

“Just as well, by the sound of it,” she said, in a dry tone. “What are you threatening to get involved in now?”

“I - nothing, I was just—”

“I need to go and beat the crap out of someone so they’ll tell me why my wife is in danger,” said Weaver, catching Snow’s eye. “I may also need to chase my wife all the way to Maine to get her out of whatever shitty situation she’s found herself in. Neither of which is something I want my daughter involved in. Or your husband.”

“Good,” she said, shooting Nolan a flat look before glancing back. “In that case, go do what you have to do. Tilly’s more than welcome to stay with us.”

Weaver hesitated.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” he said. “It’s just - these are bad people, and if I can get to Lacey before she does whatever stupid thing she’s planning on doing, they might take offence. I don’t want them posing any risk to Tilly, or to you. It’s known that we’re friends, and they might - well, they might come here, that’s all.”

Snow seemed to think for a moment, her eyes fixed on his, then she took a deep breath and clapped her hands together.

“Well,” she announced. “I think it’s time we took a trip down to California for a few days, don’t you, David? We can pack Wilby and the kids into the car and go get a little winter sunshine, what do you say?”

Weaver smiled.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, and she smiled and nodded an acknowledgement.

“I’ll go pack,” she said, and her eyes flicked to her husband. “Do what you can to stop him getting himself killed, okay?”

“Well, that’s what I was trying!” protested Nolan, and she sniffed and tossed her head before ducking back inside.

“Without going with him!” she called over her shoulder.

“See?” said Weaver, and Nolan grumbled.

“Fine,” he said. “At least take Fa with you.”

“No, I already told you…”

“Yeah, and your reasons are bullshit! She’ll kill you if you go off on your own like this!”

“For the last time, no!” Weaver shook his head, tucking his shirt into his jeans. “Look, I’d better go. I have an idea where I might catch this piece of shit.”

“You’re going now?”

“No time like the present.” He took a final look at the whiteboard. “I’ll make a few calls, say goodbye to Tilly, and I’m out of here. I’ll call you just as soon as I have news.”

“Be careful, would you?” said Nolan. “Try to at least think for three seconds before you go charging in somewhere.”

“Oh, I’ll be careful,” said Weaver grimly. “I got something to live for.”

x

Nolan went in to watch over the children while Snow packed and Weaver made a series of calls to his network of young informants, seeking info on any sightings of Arthur Penn. After hugging Tilly goodbye, and assuring her that he would be back just as soon as he’d taken care of some bad people, Weaver drove back to his apartment to pick up his gun, cuffs and badge. He took an extra clip, slipped into the inside pocket of his jacket, and after a moment, dug out a knife in its sheath and strapped it to his lower leg, beneath his jeans. It paid to be prepared, after all.

He glanced in the mirror as he strode into the hall. A grim expression seemed to be permanently etched on his face these days, his eyes darkened by worry. He scowled at himself. One way or another, he’d get to the bottom of this. One way or another, he’d save his family.

A knock at the door made him start, and his scowl grew. Whoever was calling, he wasn’t fucking interested. He wrenched open the door, mouth opened to release a tide of profanity, and the words caught in his throat as Detective Fa and Officer Dunbroch shoved him aside, kicking the door shut behind them.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” demanded Merida, hands on hips as she shook back her hair.

“Mind your own business!” he growled. “Can’t a man have a fucking day off work without the world’s most annoying lesbians butting in?”

“Apparently not,” said Fa dryly, dark ponytail swinging. “Seems that the world’s most annoying lesbians really care about the world’s most fucking stupid asshole detective with a death wish. I’m afraid you’re stuck with us.”

“Well, you can bugger off, I’m busy,” he spat.

“Yeah, we know,” said Merida, with a snort. “That’s why we’re here.”

“I don’t want—”

“Nolan ratted you out,” interrupted Fa.  “Good thing, too. I see you haven’t totally lost that reckless streak. Shit like that’ll get you killed.”

Weaver let his head roll back with a groan, and ran his hands over his face. When he took them away again, Fa and Merida were watching him with identical stern expressions.

“I didn’t want to drag you into something personal—” he began.

“You’re a bloody idiot,” said Merida bluntly.  “Do you seriously think we’d let you bugger off and have an adventure without us?”

“This is not a fucking adventure!” he snapped. “These are dangerous people and there’s a serious risk I could get killed!”

“All the more reason for us to tag along and drag your skinny ass out of the fire, then,” said Fa. “Now stop fucking whining, and tell us how we can help.”

Weaver growled impatiently, tapping a foot in irritation. Come on, you idiot, you need them!

“Alright, fine,” he said, in resignation. “Here’s what I need you to do.”

x

Half an hour later, the three of them were pressed against the wall in the alleyway outside The Rabbit Hole, waiting for their quarry. Arthur Penn had been spotted drinking in the bar by one of Weaver’s street kids when she had stopped to pick up a small drugs package for delivery, and she had informed Weaver as soon as she left. He had just finished explaining Lacey’s situation to Fa and Merida when he got the call, and while they had muttered darkly about him keeping it to himself for as long as he had, they had made some sensible suggestions. Their presence also made him feel a little more positive he’d come out of this alive. Assuming their target ever left the fucking bar, of course.

“Try not to let him see your faces,” said Weaver. “Let’s play this as though we’re part of his world. I don’t want him tipping off these fucking Fairies that the cops are onto them.”

“So glad you told us that, we’d never have thought of it otherwise,” said Fa dryly.

“He staying in there all night, you think?” whispered Merida.

“The longer he’s in there, the better for us,” said Fa. “A drunk guy’s easier to knock on his ass.”

“Less easy to get any sense out of, though,” said Weaver. “But you’re right, it’s better for us. If he’s drinking heavily, that means he’s not on call for either of the Fairies. Which means they’re out of town and unlikely to be expecting him to make contact.”

“Which also means they won’t notice if he disappears, right?” said Fa dryly.

“Right.” He hesitated. “Look, I know you didn’t sign up for that. I’m not expecting either of you to do anything illegal or—”

“Would you shut the hell up?” she said, not unkindly. “We’re in this together. Quiet, I think I hear someone.”

They pressed back, Weaver’s palms scraping against the cold bricks, still damp with rain. The door squeaked open, and Arthur Penn stumbled out into the alleyway, belching loudly and staggering two steps before fumbling at his zipper and leaning against the opposite wall. The splash of urine sounded, and Fa caught Weaver’s eye and nodded. Silent as a cat, she drew her gun and slipped up behind the man, pressing the muzzle to the base of his skull.

“Don’t move,” she whispered.

The man reacted quicker than Weaver had thought possible, elbow flying out behind him, but Fa was quicker. She ducked under the blow, punching him hard enough in the lower back to make him groan and twisting his arm up behind him as she shoved his face into the wall. Merida took the other side, and the two of them hauled him further along the alley, out of sight of the door. It was dark this far from the streetlights, and Weaver was counting on that to keep their faces hidden from view.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” bellowed Penn.

“Shut it!” snapped Weaver. “Search him.”

Merida went through his pockets quickly, pulling out a phone which she passed to Fa, a gun, and a large knife, both of which she tossed to Weaver. He stuck the gun in his inside pocket and glanced at Fa, who was flicking at the phone with a thumb. A press of Penn’s finger against the screen unlocked it, and Fa began looking through it with one hand, the other still holding a gun to the man’s side. Weaver took a handful of Penn’s hair and twisted. There was some sort of product on it, oily against his fingers, and he leaned in close, so that he could hear the man’s ragged breathing and smell the sour stench of alcohol and fear.

“Who do you work for?” he asked pleasantly.

“Fuck you!”

“Wrong answer.”

Weaver punched him in the kidneys, and Penn let out a choking cry.

“Look, I’m freelance, okay?” he wheezed. “I’m not working for anyone! Why, you - you want something doing? Someone taking out? I’m your man, if the price is right. Buys my silence, you know?”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” said Weaver. “I was actually hoping you’d spill your guts. Or we could do it in the more literal sense.”

He unsheathed the knife with a satisfying whisper of steel against leather, and pressed the tip of the blade against Penn’s belly, just above his belt. Penn sucked in a breath, his body freezing in place.

“Hey look, I’m - I’m sure we can come to some arrangement here!” he said, his voice grown high with panic. “Prices are - are open to negotiation! Or - or if it’s info you want, just ask!”

“Alright,” said Weaver softly. “What do you know about the Black Fairy? And the Blue Fairy?”

Silence, but for the sound of ragged, terrified breathing. Weaver pressed the point in a little harder, and Penn let out a strangled noise.

“Alright, alright!” he said desperately. “Look, I don’t know much, okay? Up from Vegas, but not wanting to muscle in on anyone’s scene here, so you can take that back to whichever boss you work for! They’re not a threat to anyone’s profit line, okay, and - and neither am I! They just wanted to clear up a little family business!”

“Go on,” said Weaver lazily.

“There’s a girl, a - a young woman calling herself Lacey Weaver, only - only that’s not her real name! Her real name’s Isabelle. Some sort of family connection. She has something the Fairies want. A - a key to something.”

“A key to what?” asked Weaver. “Money? Drugs?”

“I don’t know, honestly! I know she had to get it from a police station, but that's all I know! Could be either!”

“So what about this Lacey, then?” asked Weaver. “What’s your dealings with her?”

“I’m - I’m done with that, I swear!” he stammered. “I had to keep an eye on her, to let her know when she had to meet them, to keep tabs on her progress. Her husband’s a cop, so we had to be careful, but - but it looks like they broke up. Guess it never would have worked, I mean you should have seen her...”

Weaver tightened his grip on Penn’s hair, jaw clenching.

“And where is she now?”

“Hey.”

Fa’s voice made him look around, and he glanced at the phone she was holding up. A message from Lacey, giving what looked like a flight number, along with departure and arrival times. Weaver squinted at it. Boston, not Maine. Interesting.

“So,” he said evenly. “Looks like this Lacey’s getting the hell out of town. Any reason for that? Anything going down here that we should know about?”

“No, I swear it!” protested Penn. “I - I was asked to call someone in Maine to let them know when she lands in Boston, so they can collect her!”

“Who?” demanded Weaver. “He work for these Fairies too?”

“I - I suppose so,” said Penn. “His name's Felix, but I never met the guy, and that's all I know! Whatever business they have, it’s not here!”

Weaver leaned in again, making the knife point dig in, and Penn let out a high-pitched cry.

“You’d better not be lying to me!” he growled.

“It’s the truth, I swear it! I’m - I’m done with the Fairies, and - and as far as I know they’re done with Seattle!”

Weaver nodded grimly, and took a step back, nodding to Fa, who used the butt of her gun to strike a hard blow on the back of Penn’s head. He slumped bonelessly to the ground, and the three glanced around to check they were still undisturbed. Weaver jerked his head towards the mouth of the alleyway.

“We should get out of here,” he said.

“Just a second.”

Fa squatted down next to Penn’s prone body, using his fingertip to open up the phone again. She tossed it to Weaver.

“Here, change it to a PIN,” she said. “Just in case they decide to get in touch with our boy.”

“Good thinking,” he said, and Merida grinned.

“My girlfriend’s fucking brilliant,” she said proudly, and Fa dropped her eyes with a self-conscious smile.

Weaver quickly changed the security settings on the phone to a PIN unlock. He chose Tilly’s birthday for the code, hoping it would be a good luck charm of sorts. The alleyway around them was still quiet, and he nodded to the others.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Looks like I have to catch a flight to Boston.”

“We have to catch a flight to Boston,” corrected Fa, and he sighed.

“No canoodling on the plane,” he growled.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” said Merida, and grasped Fa’s hand as they made their way back to Weaver’s apartment.

#fic: things left unsaid #woven lace fic #woven lace #my fic #rumbelle fic

[langernameohnebedeutung]

suzuwarahikaru replied to your post “what happens at 5 am?”

where is the essay, OP!?

@suzuwarahikaru​ Honestly, it’s drivel and I didn’t feel like it particularly went anywhere and it was just me monologuing about one aspect of a bigger question so that’s why I didn’t post it. But ok, just for some context: You probably know how the MCU was often criticised for having “bland one off villains” and that’s true especially in their early films - and that was time when Heath Ledger’s Joker loomed very large and Ian McKellen was famous for his performance of Magneto and the idea for a Magneto solo film had just been scrapped in favour of XM First Class. At that point apparently the MCU guys walked up with the demand that Thor 1 only has to give them 1 thing: A villain as good as Magneto which they could use in Avengers. Now, obviously it had to be Loki, because Loki is Thor’s most famous antagonist and he was the first guy the Avengers ever fought in the comics, and Loki in Thor 1 is satisfyingly complex - but now that Loki’s dead and has a solo show coming out in a while, people dug up that old quote and started arguing about whether Loki actually became a villain “as good as Magneto” - which I honestly wouldn’t care about, except this argument spilled a few  “But Loki is great and Magneto is boring”-posts into the Magneto tag a while ago (which mixes with a lot of: Why did Cherik get a happy end but Stucky didn’t that’s so unfair!!!! posts) and then some comments started lowkey implying that Loki is a character who’s more attractive to sophisticated fans and that Magneto fans are usually men and Loki fans women (with the not so subtle implication being that Magneto fans are comic dude bros who like him for his cool powers and because he’s a Bad Guy(TM) I don’t really care about that, but over the course of this argument someone made a rather interesting post, wondering about what “went wrong” with Loki and while I love Loki as a character and as a villain, it made me ponder what could have been done to make Loki (even) better and to help him stand on his own 2 feet as a character and this was their post:

Now and this was going to be my response: Personally, I don’t think that having spectacular powers or anything make a villain good (they make good visuals though) but whether the hero learns something from fighting them, whether their motivation maybe reflects something that we experience as well and that maybe they unmask something that we usually don’t feel comfortable to address. And Loki has all these qualities.

I’m not going to try to objectively pinpoint where it ‘went wrong’ but it’s actually interesting to look at the XMCU and the MCU and to compare notes. The XMCU is often criticised for being too wordy, too slow-paced and “what’s with the constant time jumps and decade-hopping?” But I think that’s something the Thor franchise could actually have profited from, because…these guys are immortals and it just feels rushed in my opinion to watch their world fall apart in what is for them a matter of a long weekend. 

For example, a bigger distance between the events of Thor 1 and Avengers would have lent more weight to Loki’s disappearance and Thanos torturing and brainwashing him, Thor’s and Jane’s relationship would have been given more time to develop (making their reunion in Thor 2 more meaningful). They could also have given her more time exploring Asgard/battling the Ether. We could have learnt more about the Dark Elves, the Frost Giants, the Nine Realms in general. 

And that’s at least part of the problem, in my opinion: We don’t know enough about Asgard. You can’t just throw in an alien word without world-building and you can’t introduce characters who are millennia old by showing us 6 years of their lives and maybe 1 flashback. There is a reason why a show like Good Omens spent basically an entire episode on Crowley and Aziraphale’s lives through the millennia. Captain America got a film set in the WW2, Wolverine Origins covers over a century of Logan’s story. Magneto isn’t a better (or worse) villain than Loki, because as you said, the writing makes the character and both get pretty good and pretty bad writing at times. But a big difference is: We know a lot more about Magneto than we know about Loki. 

One example of this is personal relationships. Something I never realised before I started typing this is how little space Loki is given to let him form/have/maintain/test/strengthen meaningful relationships. 

Basically, all his meaningful interactions are inside his family. Magneto (to be clear, I’m bringing up so often bc the MCU apparently insisted on being rude af and asking Kenneth Branagh on drawing inspiration from a character who’s basically the opposite of Loki in every regard) gets a lot more screen time to develop his relationships with other characters, even if it means less CGI action scenes. 

In fact, I’m currently tempted to find out how many 1 on 1 dialogue scenes Loki gets per hour of film vs. how many Magneto gets. Loki enters the picture with a family, ‘friends’, a biological father, servants, an entire kingdom of people who know him, but he barely gets to have any meaningful interactions outside of his family environment. Seeing him interact with a friend or even someone who hates him for reasons unrelated to his relationship with Thor or someone who supports him would in turn show us a lot about how he sees other people, how he sees himself, how he treats them, what he values in a person, what kind of people trusts (if he trusts) – that’s a lot of potential that was left pretty much wasted in my opinion. 

One of the first things Agent of Asgard did was add Verity Willis to its main-cast so have a character for Loki to interact with, to serve as a moral anchor, and to call him out on his bullshit. Having relationships is powerful. In the MCU, Loki’s relationship with his mother is such an important, humanising element to his character. Also a lot of headcanons and metas and thoughts about Loki are inspired by those few scenes where we see him interact with the Warrior’s Three and Sif before Loki finds out about his parentage. 

And even when encounters the Avengers, they meet once, they talk once, then Loki he returns to Asgard and they never meet again, except Bruce - and even then there’s barely any time to talk about what happened in Avengers 1. He doesn’t get to form any meaningful relationships with his adversaries when he talks to them in Av1, these scenes just exist to present the Avengers in a certain light. And in the end it’s canonised that Loki was brainwashed so it’s all pointless anyway. (pls (don’t) make me write an essay on agency and the MCU, because honestly, between Bucky, Gamora, Nebula, Loki and everyone else was brainwashed it’s actually worth a conversation)

Even in Thor 1 Loki never meets Jane or Darcy, one of the main-characters. And we never see a single frost giant after the first film. Erik Solveig is the only Earth character from Thor 1 Loki actually meets and he’s brainwashed for most of that and in Thor 2, they don’t get to meet again. 

Imagine if Loki had had someone he trusted in Thor 1 and told them about finding out he’s a Frost Giant and they reject him and treat him like a monster. This could be three or four scenes that don’t throw off the film but would have been very powerful. Or imagine if Loki keeps his heritage a secret from that friend/trusted person and they find out in Thor 2 and confront him about it. Valkyrie and Loki never talk about him invading her mind or the things he saw. 

We never get to see him alone on Sakaar to deal with what he presumes is the end of his home world and the death of everyone he knows and we never see him interact ‘win the Grandmaster’s trust’. 

We never see him interact with the Hulk before they’re suddenly fighting side by side in Infinity War. We never find out exactly what the Aesir’s sentiments towards him are, what kind of prince he was in the past, how present he is in public, what reputation he has beyond silver-tongue mischief guy and which specific events shaped it.

If the MCU wants a villain “as good as Magneto” (which is already annoying bc they imply that Loki is not as good a villain which is such a subjective measure – Magneto done wrong is a horrible and downright offensive villain and trickster characters done right are amazing for revealing the flaws of a hero.*) then they have to give writers and actors the same means to do that with. The X-Men franchise, for all it flaws, always gave Magneto screen-time (so much that people criticised it). 

There’s a Charles-and-Erik dialogue in pretty much every film, allowing us to follow the state of their eternal argument at every step. We see his friendship with Mystique grow and fall, we see Wolverine call him out on his bullshit, his attempt to make young Hank and Mystique feel better about their visible mutations, we know how he treats his followers, his new recruits, his enemies, his students, his wife and his daughter, (daughters, if we count The Gifted and his legacy), his colleagues, his lovers, his ex-lovers, allies and former allies, politicians, police, prison guards, Nazis, soldiers, insane Egyptian gods – and we get to learn his feelings and thoughts about all of these through personal interactions, decisions and gestures. And in turn we know how they feel about Magneto. What do we know about Loki’s feelings about people outside his family? How does he feel about Fandral? What are his thoughts on the Valkyrior? How did his views on Frost Giants change and when? Did he challenge them at all or did he just become cynical about them? 

As I said, Loki is a formidable villain but I think that he suffers from the same problem as many MCU characters: We hardly know them. Think about Natascha whose been part of the franchise since Iron Man 2 but we hardly know anything about her. How much do we know about the family Drax lost? Or about Wanda’s family? About Pepper’s private life? We hardly know anything about them and especially when characters are thousands of years old and we know nothing about their past, it really creates a gaping hole in their biography and that really leads back to my original point: If we could spend more time with them, we would know them better and care more. One of the reason Dark Phoenix is a bit under-whelming is because we know very little about Jean and Scott in this time line. 

There are two DCEU films I actually own and watched more than once: Wonder Woman and Aqua Man. And while I personally didn’t find Aqua Man that good, this film actually tells us a lot about him and despite my lack of knowledge about the DCEU and me being a giant Marvel nerd, I preferred Wonder Woman over Captain Marvel and that is because I felt closer to her character. It really boils down to a “show don’t tell issue” and for me, that would mean: Maybe fewer giant CGI battles. more people living their lives. *(which should also highlight why setting Magneto as a mark for K.B. is so off-mark. Loki is about unmasking hypocrisy, Magneto himself is a hypocrite who regards himself as a hero but often does immoral things and that for example gets unmasked by Wolverine, another social outsider with littl care for social conventions)

#suzuwarahikaru #fandom #marvel #mcu #Loki