#not to always bring him up but. the speech at the end is very reminiscent of a little baby lawyer from boston....

[jimmyspades]

"And so here we are. Family, doctors, lawyers, hospitals, insurance men. Each of us concerned only for ourselves. Each of us pursuing our own goals. The only one missing is the patient. The only one without a voice is the patient."

JAMES SPADER as Dr. Werner Ernst in CRITICAL CARE (1997), dir. Sidney Lumet

#💙 #this is long but I had to narrow it down from 43 gifs. he's so gorgeous and sweet #and blinded by lust. but what else is new #james spader #critical care #* #sidney lumet #not to always bring him up but. the speech at the end is very reminiscent of a little baby lawyer from boston.... #my next mission is to make a poster for this movie on letterboxd that doesn't suck

[general-cyno]

I sort of rambled about this in the tags of a post, but I wanted to make a proper one myself since I find it very fascinating (law backstory flashback you will always be famous). so one of my favorite scenes is this one:

it is a very meaningful moment for these two, a very clear turning point to their dynamic at that time, and it's made even clearer by how law starts referring to rocinante as cora-san afterwards.

now, there are several instances throughout dressrosa arc where the similarities between doflamingo and law are mentioned, with the former going as far as to call them both birds of a feather. and as it's shown in the flashbacks, reading about flevance was enough to trigger doflamingo's traumatizing memories of his and rocinante's childhood, which seems to motivate him to bring law into the family. the way law seeks to lash out at everything then is reminiscent of doflamingo's own worldview and experiences, at least from his pov:

rocinante noticed those similarities as well and though he tried to (questionably) discourage all kids from joining the DQ pirates by scaring them away, law's case in particular prompted him to bring up the topic with sengoku at some point, as seen during sengoku's conversation with law.

sengoku repeats what everyone says about the amber lead disease, that it's incurable, and warns rocinante not to favor law much for it could jeopardize his mission. whether rocinante's agreement here was reluctant or not ig is up to each reader but learning of law's real/full name (his relation to the D clan) reignites his initial worries and some more, considering the historic opposition/threat the D represents wrt celestial dragons and how this could endanger him if doflamingo were to find out.

so there's even bigger reasons for rocinante to not want law to become doflamingo 2.0. though as he later admits amidst his drunken speech, the will of D no longer matters to him when it comes to saving law, as rocinante's journey to cure his disease ends up making him feel genuine sympathy for law beyond that. he's forced to witness first hand how much discrimination and dehumanization law's subjected to time and time again, because of his disease and ties to flevance. before all this, law's mentioned his imminent death more than a few times and does it after too. and during the first disastrous hospital visit, he tells rocinante: see? I'm not even human anymore!

which brings me to this bit of dialogue:

for all of law's similarities and/or parallels to doflamingo, it's worth noting that rocinante experienced the same things his brother did and due to his younger age probably understood even less of what was happening or why they were being targeted in the first place. compared to doflamingo, rocinante also has way less dialogue in their backstory but one he does have is this:

this happens in the part where rocinante, doflamingo and their father are strung up on a wall and shot at with arrows. the villagers all express their anger, grief, the violence and suffering they've gone through because of celestial dragons like the donquixotes. albeit different in nature, along with doflamingo, rocinante experienced a kind of dehumanization as well.

so, again: for all that law might resemble doflamingo the most, I do wonder... how much of himself did rocinante see in law, though subconsciously? a kid who lost his family, subjected to the kind of violence that led him to resign himself to death (seek it, even) and was treated by others as inhuman because of circumstances out of his control? it might've not been what rocinante believed to be his own motivations to help law, likely never actually saw or realized the similarities they shared, but imo it adds some more depth to his kindness and sympathy towards law.

this also marks a stark difference between the donquixote brothers. whereas doflamingo got caught up in a very vicious cycle (which traces back to the existence of celestial dragons as a whole and was further enabled by others like trebol) that he planned to continue with law, rocinante was able to see past law's rage and acknowledge the pain beneath. after all, rocinante knows too what it's like to be hurt by others who've been terribly hurt first and became someone who wasn't exactly keen on returning the sentiment, unlike doflamingo, regardless of whether it was in his nature to be so or if it's something that was nurtured as he grew up. that's not to say rocinante was an endlessly kind saint (he had his own biased views) or that he wasn't capable of violence (he did beat up all those medical staff and burn down hospitals for example), but those incidents weren't caused by a sense of entitlement on his part or such. he didn't blame law for stabbing him or in general for seeking revenge against the world, ultimately chose to protect and save him instead - which, indeed, changed law's life. as law presently insists, he owes cora not just that very life but his heart as well.

lastly - law himself might not disagree with doflamingo insisting they're of the same sort, but law is also the kid who couldn't fathom leaving his dying little sister behind. who softened and lowered his guard after receiving genuine kindness/love/sympathy for the first time in years. who saved a little mink and risked his own neck later on to save a boy who'd just lost his brother in the worst way possible. who didn't even consider putting his crew in danger when he knew (and expected) he might die and his whole revenge plan against doflamingo was rooted in love and grief to begin with, the same upon which the foundation of his crew was built and is a tribute to. last we saw of him, law orders bepo to go back in winner island because can't leave the crew behind, etc etc, so there's that too. how much of it is law's own nature and personality? how much is due to the impact cora had on him? both? would've doflamingo turned out differently or made different choices if his parents had tried harder to school him out of those CD views or if he'd had more positive influences aside from them, instead of the people he ended up surrounded by? would he have become the same kind of person he is rn no matter what? interesting stuff to think about.

#one piece #tp #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #trafalgar law #every day I am plagued by Thoughts abt these guys help me #hope this is somewhat coherent ajdkkgg #also writing this made me realize cora kind of? subtly told law abt his and doffy's relation to the celestial dragons? #probably flew over his lil head tho #long post

[hiraeth-sonder]

Wistful Moon - Changting Pavilion

Jingyuan x Reader

We all have to leave one day, he just hopes it won't be too soon

//This wasn't meant to make me cry, why did I cry writing this. This is probably all over the place. Poem is 离思 by 元稹.

曾 经 沧 海 难 为 水, 除 却 巫 山 不 是 云

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For you to so freely partake in drink should have tipped Jingyuan off to your emotional state much earlier than it did. Albeit, when you were under such lovely lighting and garbed in attire he could only, pathetically, describe as undoubtedly becoming, he found it hard to think of little else, caught up in the sight of your very being.

Your fingers wrapped around your cup of wine, curling into cold ceramic and bringing it to your painted lips, soft and inviting. His eyes keenly follow along the movement, watches your throat bob as you swallow, how when you lower your cup, a bright smile pulls across your face in response to something someone said. He does not think there is anything more beautiful than that smile, and though you have always told him you hated how wide it is, how you keep smiling with too much teeth and how it always happens when you least like it to, Jingyuan adores that smile of yours. It is yours, so wonderfully yours and so wonderfully a symbol of your unadulterated joy. And whenever he sees even the slightest hint of it, that flush that always threatens to expose him starts to tinge his cheeks. 

You turn briefly to take a glance at him, that smile of yours still on your lips and he feels it once more. If only for a moment, you turn away and he does not know whether to thank or curse the aeons for having that sight so fleetingly. 

Another refill of your cup, you drink once more, then another refill. You have come to your fourth cup since the wine has been served, and he worries that at this rate, you will be passed out drunk before the event ends. Jingyuan moves to take your cup away from you, something you respond with a non-committal glare before you slump by his side. Resting your head against his shoulder, he watches your eyes scan the room absentmindedly, as though looking for something, someone. 

It is when his lieutenant returns to your side that he properly comes to the revelation of your drinking. He had just received his military commission, and for someone such as you who has spent the past few years practically raising him as your own, this was a far earlier call than most parental figures experience. The sudden realisation that one day, you may no longer see him at the breakfast table with his horrid bed hair, no longer have him begging for food and pocket change, they surely were not thoughts anyone would like to have so soon (he is not sure whether it is just you feeling as so). 

Your eyes seem to focus on the child’s presence, waving him over as a milder smile now decorated your lips. Yanqing comes to your side, and in a move he clearly did not expect, you wrap an arm around him to pull him close to you, his standing form pressed against your seated one. 

“Qing’er, you’re so big…” You sigh, speech just the slightest melancholic. Reminiscing of days long gone, he thinks he can catch the hint of tears welling at your eyes. “I remember when you were still so small, you always loved it when I would carry you around.”

Yanqing’s cheeks flush at this comment, especially in public, and he splutters to retort back, to say something to brush past the sappy notion. Still, you do not let that stop you, turning your gaze to face him entirely as you hum, “I’m so proud of you, y’know that?”

He only nods, and though it is clear he does not quite know how to respond to your sentiments, he lets you hold him just a little longer, his hand on yours. 

Jingyuan watches on, the quiet moment enhanced by the fact that with so many eyes looking away, the two of you had only looked all the more poignant. He wonders how long this has been weighing on your mind, how much it ached you to keep it inside in fear of the child’s reaction. And though he would love for nothing more than to comfort you, what you needed was not him but to reaffirm Yanqing’s presence. 

It is not long until the festivities die down and the two of you are left with only each other as company. Now certainly allowed more freedom than before, you lay in his embrace, his arms wrapped around you as the Luofu’s simulated moon hangs high in the sky. 

“He’s so big now,” Your voice is hushed, barely a whisper and seemingly meant for only your ears. 

“That he is,” He hums, feeling your fingers play with his hand as though distracting yourself from speaking more. A soft, practically inaudible breath escapes him, his eyes remain on you as he murmurs, “My love, what has gotten you so sentimental?”

There is no response out of you for a moment, merely the sound of your breathing, just the slightest laboured and all too preoccupied with keeping your emotions under lock and key. Yet when he meets your eyes, the dewlets clinging to your lashes and the strained quality of your voice only tortures that heart of his that so ardently belongs to you. 

“I hate thinking about the day you’re no longer with us, or I’m no longer with you two.”

How can he bear to think of such a future as well? Though the two of you are more than aware that it may one day come (after all, neither of you are green in your years), it has been a thought he pushes away every time it surfaces. He has plans for if he is to become mara-struck, plans for if he goes peacefully, but for you, it is different. He would have to strike you down should the former occur, but he does not know whether he would be able to live with it. 

So he pretends it will not happen. He pretends that the two of you have all the time in this world, all the time to watch the moon and lay together side by side. 

All the time in the world for him to memorise your face so that if one day it should really happen, he may be reminded of the joy you brought him, and not the grief your passing will cause. 

“All the better for us to spend what time we have together,” Jingyuan mutters, pulling you closer to him as he nuzzles against you.

You sniff, that smile of yours, bittersweet but still, always, so beautiful presents itself to this world. Your eyes flutter open and close, and eventually he is left with nothing but the slow rise and descent of your chest, soft breathing his lullaby for the night. He traces along the curve of your jaw, the wrinkles of your lips, the marks upon your face, everything that made you. 

You are still clinging to him, so tightly it was almost as though you were afraid that he would leave when your eyes opened in the morning. He does not blame you. 

Looking to the moon, he prays, the first time he has done so sincerely, so desperately, that the three of you will not be ripped apart so soon, that at the very least, make it so that he will be the last to go once more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

取次 花 丛 懒 回 顾, 半 缘 修 道 半 缘 君

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #jingyuan x reader

[yandere-monoma]

good evening it is 4am and i have writer's block so imma reread one of my fave recent fics and reminisce about having the ability to write lmfao

so WHOO, eat your young: director's commentary:

the fuckin song gets stuck in my head every time i read the title HJGKFGS originally i was stuck between this one or another title from aNOTHER song but i forgot what that song was so note to self: edit this post when i remember LOL

lines like these are ones that potentially make me dissociate to reread HAHAHA. i don't even know if it quite portrays the atmosphere i'm usually referencing with lines like these (there's something about the lighting that accompanies irl traumatic memories for me that i always end up focusing on and trying to allude to in writing even when i'm not necessarily trying to project... being drenched in darkness with only one point of light to focus on... @_@) but idk its tasty and i love how i opened this fic teehee

this opening scene is very much a love letter (and quick summary of) all the FUCKIN stridercest fics i've read throughout the years, like one of the many things i love about any darkfic niche part of fandom is that there tends to be these few locations that everyone settles on and obsesses over for their ships. for todocest it's the dojo, for goyuu its the basement, for a lot of stridercest fics it's bro's couch/futon. i wanted something that was quickly recognizable for anyone who also has been reading their way through the tag like i have HJSKFG

one of those teeny tiny lil motifs that i had fun sprinkling in ghsdjfkg very fun to play with homestuck's use of color motifs and what it could provide for dave in this new context. it's also a reference to the epilogues, which i'm more obvious about when i bring the motif back later:

in the epilogues, there's a few moments where john waxes poetic about the slightly unsettling environment of earth c

and the thought of that drove me crazy. earth c and the way it's supposed to represent this unfitting paradise that's just a little bit wrong and a little too perfect and the way that perfection grates at you when you start to notice it. i love the metaphor of paradise being uncomfortable because of all the trauma and grief and fighting that preceded it. rly reminds me of how hard it is irl to adjust to happiness and love and comfort after being abused and hurt for so long 😩😩😩

don't even ask me where the bro drinks hibiki hc came from but it's something i carried over from the brorose pornverse because ~consistency~

nothing to say besides being proud of this LOL

...

...

...

man i have such a love/hate relationship with writing dave dialogue and by that i mean i hate it cuz i never think it's enough LMFAO. i envy anyone who can adopt homestuckian humor and wit easily because i can Not. like i try my best but just know every second i gotta write this idiot talking i'm screaming in agony and bleeding out my ass about it internally JHKFGS

wonder if i'd feel differently if his dialogue was in the pesterchum fonts tho...

CRAZY how much i like that better HAHAHFGKSDFG

one day i'll do a fic where the dialogue is done like the epilogues but until then i suffer and die every time i have to use proper grammar for dave's speech, anyway,

ANYWAY john being a terrible parent is one of the sexiest things that has ever been done with his character i'm so thankful for it godjskfgsdfg and i love thinking about dave's misplaced guilt on the matter. "You want to be on your best friend's side for this, sure, bristling with the instinct to defend him, but you can't commit to it. The sad kid in front of you, put out and missing his father's love, that's who has all your sympathy right now." dave being unable to keep from projecting onto harry from the start, unable to keep from instantly empathizing with the child's point of view in this scenario (partially because he can't unsee himself as anything but an abused child even despite his growing age) and immediately feeling himself distancing emotionally from john at the thought that he could be anything like bro as a guardian.

it's actually a shame i didn't rly get a chance to elaborate on this further because i think there's a lot of fun to be had with thinking about dave's reactions to john's parenting from this point on, like... GOD. when john tried to kidnap tavvy as a kid???????????? feel like that's a fucking GOLD mine of possibly triggering ammo against dave's psyche goddamnit

if harry didn't change the subject here, he would have started bashing john for his drinking habits and canon tendency to traumadump on him while drunk HJSKFG he's made harry incredibly uncomfortable more than a few times doing this and i think it's definitely made an impression on him, but harry decides not to because he doesn't want to do the same thing to dave. he also doesn't want to remind dave that they're doing anything 'bad' here

writing shit like this into a story rly is just for the purpose of practicing interiority in characterization hehe. i feel like it's also a side effect from writing for theatre, trying to mimic as many naturalistic structures of dialogue as possible. fun to fit in tangents that just never really get answered or directly referred to

THE WAY THERE WAS NO ROOM TO TALK ABOUT DAVEJADE FAILED MARRIAGE BUT GOD I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT DAVEJADE FAILED MARRIAGE SO BAAAAAAAD tfw you spend all your free time hanging out with teenagers to avoid having sex with your loving wife

...

this part of the fic is fun because originally this idea came from a discord convo

and it is SO FUCKING FUN to write prose around someone else's dialogue and thoughts 10/10 will recommend

it's especially fun too because all of dave's thoughts and dialogue from around this point on is mostly outlined by my friend, so it was so fun getting to work their insights and characterization into my own interpretation of his character

...

the build-up where dave and harry start snuggling drives me fucking crazy every time like every time i reread this bit i'm always biting on my knuckles and screaming goddamnit goddamnit dirty wrong awful intimacy that suddenly overwhelms you and crushes you and you don't even notice the way you're dissociating from your every action but you aRE

originally this paragraph was also supposed to have a davejade mention but i just couldn't figure out how to make the thought flow well with everything else. originally there was supposed to be something about the way he always shrinks away from jade's touches, how they always make him feel worse and feel colder than he did before she'd tried, but yeah... didnt fit... and ultimately i think the fic is stronger as is. jade being an afterthought that only vaguely gets talked around feels very ic for candy dave anyway HJGFK and rly everything that he feels towards her is more just a side effect of everything he's suffered by bro's hands. no need to focus on his discomfort about jade when his discomfort about harry is more than enough

that being said every time i remember everything i had to omit i WAAAAAAIL

"Syrup clogs your throat. Your throat burns dully, your tongue feeling heavy with that leftover numbing weight of sugar and liquor." lines i cant reread without rly badly craving booze

literally the biggest challenge of this fic was the fact that its secretly a johndave/daveroxy/daverose fic HAHAHGFJG like trying to balance the fact that one of dave's biggest driving forces when it comes to his attraction to harry is that he's just been hosting a million and one ultimately unrequited crushes all his life that he's now projecting forward and trying to showcase that without drawing tOOOOOOOO much attention away from the other main driving force (brodirk and the incest fetish he'd instilled in him)... so sooo hard to balance but i like to think i did a decent job

'let him escape this feeling like he might still be a good person' is such a fucking good line/thought/sentiment that i'm so upset i had no room for cuz it's so good HJGKFSGS who knows maybe one day i'll be able to figure out a way to squeeeeeeze it into an edit cuz god knows i still tweak this and all my fics every now and then

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i love this part... go off past ricky... do find it funny tho that i was ~vibing~ so hard with the prose that i forgot dave's canon ages just a tad HAHA shhhh

these are some of my favorite kisses i've ever written goddamnit

literally the funniest and most inspiring words my writing partner has ever said like LEGEND... it was this phrase specifically that made me drop everything and start writing this fic cuz i KNEW i needed to slap that onto the summary pls JGKLFSG

(Did you ever have a chance? Did he?)

i feel obligated to speak on this line because it's like. one of the huge major themes of the fic HJSKDFGSFG the inevitability of dave continuing a cycle that he's been trying to avoid. really, what can i say, though. this fic follows a timeline that's alluded to but still has yet to be written out (and who knows if i ever actually will write it out, i'm kinda just updating this fic series based on impulses) where dave moves on to project all his trauma with bro onto dirk after they win the game. i love the thought of them trying their best to keep up the brother routine before dave's need to retraumatize himself and dirk's own fucked up inclinations results in them becoming sexually involved. like, honestly, i could go on forever about dirkdave and the ways they make each other better and worse but yeah. the second dave gave into that self destructive urge, he was done. and it's something that bled into his marriage, that bled into his inability to rly engage with karkat, that fed on his ability to be his own person and work on his own recovery. dirk died and the universe went stagnant and with it, dave's ability to grow out of the mold he was forced into by bro

so yeah. he's already at this huge disadvantage. and while this fic focuses on dave's perspective, there's a lot to be said about harry's mindset as well. the way he's egging this on, the way he's encouraging it, the way he's trying to poke into any sort of vulnerability that dave may or may not have. the way he wouldnt quite have the words to pinpoint and identify shit like emotional incest or grooming but he can see that there's something wrong and exciting about what they're doing that he wants to take part in. being set up to failure because of john's neglect, already thinking he's more mature than he is because of it, perhaps knowing just a bit too much about romance and sex because of whatever weirdass confessions about his own relationships john had unwittingly given him. not to mention his feelings for dave and the way he makes him feel like they're equals and the way he gets attention and affection freely from him without really having to fuss and fight for it like he does with vrissy.

so yeah. these two were doomed from the start 😌💙

'That saccharine sear of shame that washes over you then only makes it worse. You can’t fucking believe you’re popping a boner ten seconds into a make-out session.'

so like, i wrote this before getting deep into the show succession and thank god cuz this def would have turned into a ramble about how dave probably was completely unable to get it up during sex with jade. that absolutely was the case because i like to think that dave really is just hardwired into having rly bad sexual hang-ups where his body is just so conditioned to react to a lack of consent and boundaries and an abundance of incest but now thanks to my intimate knowledge of roman roy i also know now that dave occasionally (frequently) has rly bad erectile dysfunction in the face of anything '''healthy'''. thanks a lot succ

this isn't where the wordplay starts but it's where a good amount of it is HJGKFG i feel like 'bro' is a silly word to use in big deep serious prose sometimes HAHAH so my reluctance to use it here is part of why this wordplay started but the other reason is because i have a BIG stylistic thing(tm) about playing with pronouns and names and what omitting them can do for the narrative. blurring bro and dirk by refusing to name them but letting their actions speak for which splinter is being referred to was a very fun experiment (though, perhaps less successful than other iterations of mine where i did this same sort of pronoun play... OH WELL they cant all be perfect)

mentally dave switches from aggressor to aggressor. this possessive need to destroy harry starts to bleed in, inspired by bro and what he'd done to dave and what he'd taught him of sexuality and domination. a part of him resists that, reminding him of the terrifying impact of it all, the horror of initiating and acting on a fucked up desire, and then he switches to dirk, projecting that forward instead. dirk, who he is currently choosing to see more as a victim, who was just trying to help dave as he pushed and pushed at him. it's simultaneously a moment where he can start to blame harry just a little bit about what's happening instead of himself (because harry keeps pushing, he keeps begging to do this, he thinks it's what he wants and dave is just helping him because he doesn't feel he has a choice) and it's a moment where he finally puts himself in dirk's shoes and realizes (fears) that maybe dirk didn't want this as much as he might have acted. that dirk had likely gone through a similar internal conflict that started to kill him inside.

'Jade tries, but something about her touch disgusted you.' IT WAS SUCH A STRUGGLE TO FINALLY MENTION HER LMFAOHSDJFKG such a relief... altho the line after this one rly kicked my ass i could not figure it out for the longest time hjskdfgsg jadey i love you im so sorry

this was an interesting divulgence from the original thought:

which i couldnt rly fit in especially with how balls deep we're into dave's thoughts at the moment but i love it

this line is so stupid HAHAJFGSFG its so funny to me. its a shoutout to me realizing halfway through the initial outline that they're actually half brothers instead of JUST uncle/nephew AND it's a reference to this specific incest joke in the epilogues

(the way harry is there to witness this moment and also say the word incest right after dave... a ship made for mE)

i love this sequence so much i'm so proud of it like FUCK

some of my friends have started to use this line as a copypasta now and it cracks me the FUCK up every time they do HJSKFDGSDF

generally, whenever i write stream of consciousness fics, i'm always building up and waiting for the moment where the stream suddenly goes off track. there's always gonna be a super fun part where i get to just ramble out a bunch of run-on sentences and hopefully even format them in a fun absolutely-inspired-by-poetry way. and i can't stress enough how fucking SATISFYING it is to get there and have it come out (almost) exactly how you thought it would whee

THOUGHTS THAT GOT LOST BUT GOD HARRY CRACKS ME UP... and i love that part of john's personality... and i love the way it unknowingly grates on dave hjsdfg he definitely has a very clear image of victimhood and the way harry doesn't fit into that mold drives him fucking crazy.

one of my favorite parts of dave's unreliable narration, him projecting onto dirk because of his own guilt. it's the only way he can really bring himself to admit that, in that moment, after everything he's done, he's immediately feeling suicidal and bereft with his guilt on the whole situation.

i mention this in a comment as well but i love to think about ult dirk and dirk's internal corruption of his own character. i think it's a fun chicken or the egg scenario, trying to decide if dirk was still himself when he allowed dave to seduce him into this, if dirk's guilt helped guide him into his eventual instability, or if that instability is what lead to him acting on his incestuous urges. did his actions lead to him being labeled a villain, or did he decide to prove his villainy by lashing out?

and it is VERY fun to have this be something dave had done, knowing that in the future, he will be guided into his own metaphorical and literal suicide, abandoning a life he's more than ready to run away from =u= and the cycle continues nyehehe

final thoughts that may or may not be used in a future fic (i'm the black):

what the hell is wrong with harry in d e e d... stares at john

#fic: eat your young #fandom: homestuck #director's commentary #meta

[tinydestinybear]

As It Was

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings: this can be a tough read since it involves main character death so please read only if you’re in the right space. My heart is with anyone who has dealt with the loss of someone beloved, you are very strong ❤️

W/C: 782 words

The best of lovers.

Through the trouble-free, fun days of childhood to the challenging time of adulthood, they grew up together, trudging their way through life while always having each other’s back. Never a moment where they could not connect with each other: music, art, café and what not. The memories of their conversations in the warm morning and the cold night brought Y/N a second’s comfort yet reminded her again, he was gone. Along with all the serenity he brought along. The heavy feeling in her chest refused to subside as she shifted to face away from his side of the bed. Her eyes grew heavy, salt burning at the back as she stared into the distance of their bedroom’s window. It was another winter morning, but unlike before Y/N wasn’t cold because of the frigid winds or the falling snow. An empty bed side, no arm holding her close were the coldest reminders.

Had it been months since? Y/N couldn't tell.

She believed that she was now in a different world - seeing her life crumble to pieces with his loss and only burying herself staring at the sky as their memories flashed before her eyes - she didn’t want people’s pity or sorrow. She merely wanted his presence back.

She tried to remember his soul in colour but it got tougher each day when all she herself saw are black and white fadings. She wondered if she can ever get a glimpse of his smile again? Would he smile the same way again? Or would his nose scrunch up more? Could she feel his touch again? Him caressing her face with his slightly rough fingers while confessing his love for her, is it too much to ask for?

It was a harsh reminder of her soulmate who was gone. Her love didn’t fade, will never but it felt at a hollow end with no other way out.

—

As she stared at the coffin and held her dress in a tight grip with her anxious fingers, Y/N was still unsure how she'd make a speech without baring her soul out. It seems like just yesterday he was there with her, holding her close in his arms.

She remembered telling him about how she would never be able to face this, the mere thought of living without him seemed very much impossible. He’d told her to not be this way, that she had to be strong even without him. “I’ll always wait for you m’love and you’re gonna stay strong if anything happens, you’re my strongest woman aren’t you?”

She looked down at the flowers in her hand, reminiscing of when he used to bring flowers for her, and gently led them down near his grave. Everything around - with people they used to spend time with to their heartfelt speeches - seemed to bring back thousands of memories.

She couldn’t.

Her mind went blank, her breath rose quickly as she started sobbing while her father gently caressed her in his arms. It should have brought comfort to be in his arms yet it brought none. Not when Harry was not there. Not when she could not see his bright smile or hear him again.

Please come back to me

–

It had been a few days since they had led him down yet the days seemed to pass too slowly and Y/N wondered just when would the time come when it doesn’t hurt this much, when would she stop crying her heart out whenever she visits his grave and she’s aware it’ll take a while but she pondered whether her isolating herself was truly helping her.

So she decided to step out, she’ll allow the radiant colours to fill her life but will they ever fill her heart? Despite the clear answer, she started again, started discovering herself in a new light slowly and the memories kept coming back whenever she saw something which reminded her of him but she no longer felt the heart crushing tears return each time.

She stood by the seaside, watching the waves rush together and how they returned back on their own in their own gentle way. She’ll collect her own rushed waves and gentle her pieces of love.

A few nights later, she was deep in her sleep when Harry appeared in her dreams, putting his arm across towards her open - hinting her to grab it and follow his lead. She gently slid her fingers to hold his, feeling his warmth again as her breath enclosed to a stop. She followed his lead throughout before he turned around and embraced her in his arms.

Now, they’ll love each other in colour.

–

A/N: This one’s inspired by As It Was! The lyrics and the music video inspired me to write this so here it goes: I wouldn’t say that the reader is ‘free’ of her feelings in the middle when she starts exploring again but by the end, they’re cherishing the very best, simple memories of their relationship. It isn’t necessarily sad but it rather shows how harry’s character’s death held back the reader in the beginning where nothing seemed to turn their mood around and ultimately it gets better with time even though it’s definitely not the same ‘as it was’. I hope this makes sense to you all because I loved writing this, feedback is appreciated! :D

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #boyfriend!harry #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic rec #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #sejal files

[chimielie]

champagne

summary: Kuroo x Reader. He proposes. You say no.

word count: 3.6k

cw: engagement, angst with a happy ending, reader is kind of a hot mess, drinking, throwing up, swearing, self-deprecating thoughts.

a/n: this blog is where i project all my commitment issues onto y/n and their fake volleyboy husband. as always, pls lmk if there’s a mistake bc i genuinely cannot bear to read this

You’re not stupid.

You would have to be to miss the signs, honestly. Tetsurō has been tiptoeing around you for weeks, insisting on watching rom-coms that have hardly been an institution in your relationship up till now. He squeezes your hand a little harder than usual at the end, when one lead bends down on one knee and the other nods yes, a million times, yes. You’ve noticed your father’s contact popping up on Tetsu’s phone screen a lot more often than ever before. You’ve definitely noticed the blue velvet box sitting on the highest shelf in the kitchen, ordinarily obscured by a grocery bag that happens to have turned very, very translucent in the lamplight when you were hunting for a late-night snack at two A.M.

You’re not stupid, so the way your heart drops— you can hear the organ splashing into your stomach acid— when Tetsurō gets down on one knee shocks you as much as the proposal doesn’t.

He’s talking, reminiscing with misty eyes and crooked smile on your relationship, on what have been some of the best days of your life, of what today should be. You can hardly hear him through the blood pounding in your ears, the hot sting in your eyes, the emptiness of your lungs. Your breathing is coming faster and faster, and you blink, images dancing on the back of your eyelids— every heartbreak you’ve ever witnessed, every marriage you know didn’t work out, every fear you’ve carried like weights just beneath your skin since you were small. When you open your eyes he’s staring at you expectantly, his nervous hyena laughter dying out, echoing around the venue.

The setting is perfect, the speech, you’re sure, was perfect, he’s perfect. You stand, clothed in finery that suddenly feels far too constrictive despite how often you’ve worn the very same design as a proud significant other on Tetsurō’s arm, in the center of a dome that opens up to the sky, only glass separating you and the velvet-dark sky studded with stars. Greenery crowds out of the walls, the riot of flora interrupted occasionally with statues and ornate mirrors. The food, or what little you ate as your nerves increased gradually during dinner, was excellent. It’s gorgeous and scenic and so expensive, a display of how much Tetsurō can provide for you, even if it’s only symbolic. It’s perfect.

But you’re broken.

That’s all you can think as you stare down at your boyfriend, at the ring sparkling in its box, a flush creeping over his face. I thought I was ready, but— but— and then your brain floods you with visions of him, angry, of you, crying, of you, split up. You’ve never wanted anything less.

“Love?” Tetsurō is looking up at you with the soft adoration and trust he’s always looked at you with, but you can see fear in the corners of his eyes, of a persistent pull upward of his eyebrows. You can’t do it. You can’t say yes— you’re broken— but you can’t say no. You can’t bring yourself to break him into bits the way you know it will. You know not saying anything is tantamount to a refusal, but your panicked brain isn’t supplying you with anything better. “Say something, please, you’re making me nervous.”

You stare at him, and there’s electricity racing over your skin and a piercing pain in your chest. You love him so much it hurts.

“I don’t feel well,” you choke, and then you run, dashing for the exit and praying that you’ll bump into a bathroom so you can bring yourself down from the edge of a panic attack before you see him again.

When you walk out, face damp from the cool water you splashed over it, gait wobbly, he’s waiting for you with the car, ready to take you home. The drive is short and long, silent and tense. You fiddle with your fingers, peel at your fingernails. He reaches out and grabs your hand to stop you. He hasn’t looked at you, but he knows you so well. You feel sick again.

When you get home, you shuck off your shoes without incident, hang up your coat. Normally, your shared home with Tetsurō is full of noise, the sound of pans clattering, the echo of your mixed laughter, the low buzz of the movies you fall asleep on top of him during. It’s a home.

Right now, it’s a house, with two strangers occupying it.

“Y/N,” he says, and he’s trying to make it sound as sensitive and quiet as possible. The gentleness is too much for you, the tenderness breaking you open and spilling your guts on the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Tetsu,” you sob, and fall into his open arms. “I,” and you can’t get past that. There’s no air in your lungs, or maybe it’s because your face is buried in his shirt.

“Sh,” he says, brushing a large hand over your hair. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay, honey, it’s okay.”

You fall asleep quickly, half-clothed because you’re just too tired to do it right, but it’s restless. You notice when you wake up, groggy and much earlier than usual, that he’s clinging to you, his grip almost bruising, his face pressed between your shoulder blades. You turn in his hold, and he pulls you impossibly closer. You pet his hair and rub his back in soothing circles with your thumb until you drift off again.

The next few days are— strange, to say the least. On the surface everything is normal. You pack him lunch in the morning and kiss him goodbye as he leaves for work; you come home from your own job to him cooking dinner on the stove. You make small talk; talk too small for a relationship of many years. You can’t get it off your mind, and you assume he can’t either. Being rejected must feel a thousand times worse than rejecting him was, and that already sucked shit. Every time you try to talk to him about it, to explain yourself, he puts you off with a warm hug and a murmured “We don’t have to talk yet, don’t worry.” But his work days get longer, and you can’t watch rom-coms anymore, and you still wake up to his desperate touch, like he’s unconsciously trying to keep you as close as he’s trying to distance himself during the day.

The first time he calls you to tell you he’ll be sleeping at Bokuto’s, you’re nervous. You can understand that it’s closer to the office, that he needs that edge, and that he likely needs space, but you can’t help the voice whispering in the back of your mind that he’s not at Bo’s, he’s with someone else, he wants someone more whole and unafraid and loving than you can be. You try to tamp it down, but it’s still there, wriggling and writhing at the edge of your consciousness.

He comes home the next day, bearing the baked goods Akaashi always insists on giving visitors, and you relax. Two days later, he calls again, and again you worry. The third time, he stays away for a couple days, and you pray he ignores the dark circles beneath your eyes when he returns. The fourth time, you convince yourself that you’re used to it.

The fifth time, Bokuto calls you.

“Hi, Y/N!” He says, and your lips turn up in a smile at the sound of your friend’s voice, always cheerful and uplifting.

“Hey, Bo,” you respond. “Everything okay over there?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. There’s frantic whispering you can’t quite make out. “Your boyfriend’s drunk, come pick him up.”

“I don’t know if he wants that,” you laugh nervously. It’s a Wednesday. Tetsu never drinks on weekdays, and he rarely drinks enough to get drunk.

“Then explain why he’s been asking for you,” Bokuto says, and it’s a little jolt of warmth to know that Tetsurō still thinks of you. You think of how, a mere couple of weeks ago, you had considered your relationship strong and healthy and full of life, and now the two of you just seem to keep getting sadder and sadder and calling it love.

“How bad is it?” You’re a little afraid, again, and you slap yourself mentally, embarrassed at how cowardly you feel.

“Please,” and it’s Akaashi’s voice now, mellow and steady. “He’s being such a little bitch.”

You giggle, knowing that Akaashi almost always only swears casually after a couple glasses of alcohol, and grab your keys.

“I’ll be there soon.”

During the drive over, you manage to psych yourself out yet again. You think of drunken outbursts and the liquid courage needed to break up with you, and your back hunches like you’re trying to hide even though there’s nobody in the car with you.

You knock meekly on Bokuto’s door and listen for the telltale loud thumping as he smacks into walls and trips over lamps on his way to the door. True to form, he answers the door in seconds, out of breath and loud, a huge smile on his face.

“Long time no see!” You let yourself be folded into his big arms, warm and comforting, always open.

“Nice to see you,” you smile at him. “Where’s Tetsurō?”

“Oh, about that,” he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. Your stomach turns violently. “He fell asleep already.”

“Oh, that’s no worry,” you say. “I guess I’ll head back, then.” A soft laugh. You don’t want to go, back to your empty house and cold bed.

“No, no, stay for a little, come in,” Bokuto says, and Bokuto rarely ever asks for things. You walk in, and it’s been a little while since you truly felt like you were in a home. There’s a comfortable order to the chaos of Bokuto’s belongings, a sense of lived-in, loved-in wear to the rooms. You accept a glass of juice and a seat at his kitchen table.

“So you turned down his proposal,” Bokuto says, and you choke on your sip. “He’s been pretty bummed about that, I gotta say.” You imagine that Akaashi, probably asleep like Tetsurō, is scolding him for lack of tact in his dreams.

“I didn’t think I would,” you say quietly. You haven’t figured out how to talk about it to anyone yet. Your parents called, but you skirted the topic.

“He still loves you,” Bokuto says, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Bo, I don’t—”

“He does. That’s why he’s here all the time. If you don’t want him, he’s trying to make it easier on you to kick him out.”

“I didn’t know,” you say dumbly. The fan overhead is a soft buzz in the background. Chills race up your arms. “I still want him.”

“I figured,” Bokuto says. “You sound like it.”

“I didn’t say no because of him,” you look down. “I can’t believe he thinks that.”

“Tetsu’s a smart guy. He thinks a lot of things. He’s also kind of a dumbass.”

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Your dumbass.” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you laugh, loud and clear. For a moment, the weight on your chest and the flowers in your lungs recede. You remember everything you love about being with Tetsurō, the love that makes things easy.

“I don’t know why I said no.” Bokuto says nothing, only takes a long swig of his drink and waits for you to continue. “I’ve seen a lot of relationships fall apart, and a lot of marriages. I knew he was gonna ask, but when it came to it, I folded.” You bow your head in shame. “I ran away because I thought the anxiety would go away when the moment happened, and it didn’t. He didn’t magically make me unafraid. I don’t think Tetsu would hurt me, but I can’t help asking myself what if, you know?”

“Well, that’s silly,” Bokuto says, and you blink at him in surprise, your hackles rising. “Love can be an at-first-sight-thing, but relationships are work. It’s the love that makes it worth it.”

“That’s… really wise, Bo,” you say in surprise. “Have you been reading couple’s therapy books?”

“I’m just that smart,” he tells you, and you grin.

You’ve just finished your glass when two hands land heavy on your shoulders, and you relax into their familiar feel.

“Y/N,” Tetsurō says, pulling you to your feet and cuddling you to his chest. “Missed ya.” His voice is sleep-rough and slurred, so you can tell the alcohol hasn’t worked its way out of his system.

“Hi,” you say affectionately, reaching up to cup his face.

“Bedtime,” he says firmly.

“Night, Bo!” You call, watching the big man wave at you as you’re dragged out of the kitchen and to the spare bedroom, where your boyfriend collapses on top of you, yawning into your skin.

“Mm, bedtime,” he says. You squirm out from beneath him and arrange yourself in a more comfortable position, still touching him as much as possible. “I missed you so much, but you came to see me!”

“Of course I did,” you say softly. “I’m always here for you, you know that.”

“No,” he shakes his head childishly. “Been scared, beloved, thought you were gonna leave. Don’t go,” he begs. “I love you.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “And I love you more.”

His only response is a soft snore.

As you observe him in the moonlight— your heart, fluttering like a trapped bird, won’t let you sleep— you think about what Bokuto said. Relationships are work. You think about how you’ve chosen to love Tetsu, chosen him again and again and been chosen in return, and how love is a series of steps toward each other. You’ve been walking, you think, and with a gulp of cool air, you feel your heart settle, still beating a little harder whenever your eyes pass over his handsome face. You want to run.

You wake when he does, mostly because he jolts violently and makes a sound of surprise.

“We’re at Bo’s,” you grumble, turning over and trying to return to the best sleep you’ve had since the proposal. “I came to pick you up and ended up staying the night.”

“Oh,” he says, and it’s childish and soft. “I feel unwell.”

Because you love him, you drag yourself out from beneath the sheets and to the bathroom, where you rub his back as he vomits and support him as he sways while rinsing out his mouth.

“You didn’t have to come,” he tells you as you bid Bokuto and Akaashi goodbye.

“Don’t be silly, of course I did. I wanted to.”

“If you’re sure,” he mumbles, and then: “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Tetsurō,” you say. “We should probably talk, though. Is there any chance you can take the day off? You still look a little sick.”

“‘M fine,” he says, looking away from you. “You take your car home and I’ll go to work.”

“Please?” You ask, and looking at your pleading eyes, he caves. “Fine. I’ll go in later.”

That suits your purposes.

Again, the car ride is awkward and devoid of sound beyond clearing of throats and occasional light sniffling. Your own clarity doesn’t extend to his, but you've dragged him into your issues, and you regret it sorely.

You pull into the driveway, parking the car, and before you can exit, Tetsurō reaches out to wrap a hand around your wrist.

“So what did you want to talk about?” In the morning light, he looks like shit, like he hasn’t been sleeping, like he’s been trying to work himself to death. There’s pain and desperation poorly concealed in his brown eyes, and you can freely admit it hurts to know you put it there.

“Uh, Bo told me you thought I wanted to leave you,” you say, and then mentally smack yourself for starting so ominously. “But I don’t! I don’t want to break up, at all.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “That’s good.”

“If you want to,” you say, nervous. “I understand. That is totally on the table.” He tries to interrupt, but you push through, afraid that if you stop you won’t speak again. “I’ve put you through a lot these past couple weeks, and I just want to explain myself before we come to any conclusions. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and a familiar smirk is tugging at his mouth. “I don’t want to break up, by the way.”

“Good,” you breathe, and you knew it but it’s so good to hear him say. “I knew you were going to propose, and I wanted to say yes— I want to say yes. If you proposed now, I would say yes. I just didn’t realize how much I’d idolized this, like, fairytale romance, where everything would magically click into place. When it didn’t, I was so scared, I thought it would break us, and I never want that. I was,” and that familiar anxiety is choking you again. You swallow it down. “I was scared of our relationship falling apart and it only made things worse. That’s— that’s why I said no.”

“Technically,” Tetsurō points out. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, and suddenly it’s like nothing was ever wrong at all.

A week of bliss later (absence makes the heart grow fonder, and how absent you two were from each other), Tetsurō comes home from work, exhausted and ready to be rejuvenated by a night of relaxation with you, to find you already in the kitchen.

“Ow— shit, shit,” you’re yelping as you grab a hot pan from the oven, dropping it with a clatter on the counter.

“Hey, kitten,” he greets you, and you shriek.

“Why are you home! Welcome home, I mean. Go to your room!” As an afterthought, you add: “And wear something nice!”

You open the door a cool twenty minutes later, wearing the same outfit you had worn that night beneath the glass sky, leaning on your bedroom doorframe.

“Sir,” you say, a small, restrained smile playing on your lips.

“Beloved, what’s going on?” He asks you, but you just turn and lead him down the hall to your dining room, where tall taper candles cast flickering golden light over a (mostly) perfectly done meal, bubbly in glasses, your nicest tablecloth.

“Nothing,” you say, and he casts you a disbelieving look. “Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he raises his hands, taking a seat. “Wow, this looks good; you spoil me.”

“It’s the least I could do,” you wave it off. “Thank you.”

He waits for a moment. You stare back at him. He raises his fork.

“Wait, no, don’t eat yet,” you panic, grabbing his wrist. He looks down at your hand, arches a brow. You make a sweet, embarrassed noise, and pull it back. “I have something to say.”

“Okay,” he says, and he can’t conceal his smile.

“Kuroo Tetsurō,” you start.

“That’s my name,” he says, and you glare at him.

“Don’t interrupt. Anyway, Tetsu, I’m as in love with you now as I was the day I first met you: so much it scares me. I remember that the first thing I thought when I saw you was I want him so bad. I’ve grown a lot since then— I’ve grown a lot in the last few weeks.”

“So have I,” he murmurs. This time, you just smile softly at him before continuing. You sink to one knee slowly, still maintaining eye contact as you tell him about your relationship from your point of view. You tell him about the ways he’s made you better, that he makes you want to be better. You tell him— again— that the hardships have never been hard because of him, that the peaks have been enhanced because of him. You tell him that you’ve never been so sure of your trust in someone, had someone you could rely on like you can on him. You tell him that you love him more than anyone in the world.

“So,” you breathe, drawing a blue velvet box out of your pocket, clicking it open to reveal a ring, matching the one he bought you in a different size. You crawl forward on your knees, laughing a little at the awkward movement, and reach up with your left hand to wipe the tears off his face, a few of your own sliding off your chin. “Even though I might be a little broken, if you’ll have me, I’ll ask: Tetsurō, baby, beloved, will you marry me?”

The moment isn’t perfect, and your breath comes only unevenly. It’s not a night beneath the stars, surrounded by finery and smothered by expectation.

“Yes,” he says, and then he’s got one hand splayed over your back and the other in your hand, spinning you around. You cling to him, laughing, and then you’re pressing kisses all over his face.

“Y/N,” he says when he steadies the both of you, and his face makes the transition to seriousness. “I don’t want to hear you call yourself broken again. You are human, okay? Human and perfect and Iloveyousomuch.”

“Okay,” you say, and he kisses you, long and slow and tasting like bubbly. “Wait, wait,” you push at his chest. “Hand.”

When you slide the ring onto his fourth finger, it fits just right.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader

[bukojuiice]

— their wedding day with you.

ೃ pairings: (izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, x fem! reader)

ೃ  tags: headcanons, tooth rotting fluff

ೃ warnings:  none

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

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ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ after a million wedding videos and pinterest boards later, i’m excited to share with all of you my wedding hcs! these are short and a quick read so i hope you enjoy!  ♡

-  you and your fiancé, katsuki, were arguing over the venue and the theme of the wedding. he wanted it to be a simple ceremony. perhaps taking place at just a regular event place- whilst you wanted the venue to be at a beach. 

- it was a dream you had always wanted while innocently planning your wedding as a kid. so why not make it a reality?

-        The two of you peacefully decided on it over rock paper scissors. You won so… the beach wedding it is.

-        (Katsuki actually loved the idea of the beach wedding as much as you did. He just didn’t want to admit it.)

-        coral blue and oceana palettes, luscious palm trees swaying with the wind coming from the sea, the calming sound and view of the ocean, coral and shell designs hung everywhere, tables and chairs with little boho and aquatic inspired designs.

-        mitsuki bakugo insisted on making your wedding dress. you were overjoyed and deeply touched by her sweet gesture. As she wants the best for her beautiful and loving daughter in law after all.

-        The dress was one of the most angelic and heavenly gowns you have ever seen in your entire life. a long graphic lace gown with an open back and the edges of your white dress had frills like that of a mermaid tail. you wore a shell bracelet, to match with katsuki’s.

-        kirishima and kaminari jokingly dared bakugo to wear a tuxedo heavily inspired by the dc superhero, aquaman to keep the beach theme going. of course, katsuki ignored their suggestions and little jokes, opting for something of his usual style. his suit partially unbuttoned, tan rolled up-pants and matching shell bracelets with you.

- as you walk down the aisle, katsuki could not think of anything but the bursting feeling inside of him saying that this was it. this serendipitous event was going to signify the start of his life... his life with you.  

- your beauty and radiance was like that of a mermaid, your (h/c) hair flowing with the wind and the ocean was there as if practically glowing for you. whereas he felt like a mere pirate who could do nothing but watch you from afar as he sailed the shores.

- yet here you are, about to approach him, to finally begin this momentous event.

- the gentle mermaid fell in love with the aggressive pirate. how sweet.

- you insisted on playing songs from the little mermaid during your walk down the aisle and during the reception, sadly, katsuki disapproved of both. with a little convincing and a dozen of cute pouty faces later, he agreed to have someone play a romantic song. just one.

- the two of you decided on someone performing a beautiful rendition of “can’t take my eyes off of you” 

-        bakugo was about to cry while reciting his vows. Almost. He was totally going to shed some tears after the wedding ceremony, for only you to see, and before the two of you make your appearance at the reception.

- the wedding and the reception ends wonderfully as fireworks began to pop in the sky, colorful swirls as if they were coloring the sky, with one of the firecrackers even shaped as a heart. the reception continues with people dancing, and while your husband wasn’t one for festivities and dancing, he would give this day a pass as you bring him to the middle of the dance floor as the two of you dance the night away.

- “you’re just too good to be true...  Can't take my eyes off of you~ you'd be like Heaven to touch, i wanna hold you so much~”

-        shoto wants the most important day of his life to be reminiscent of a fairy tale as he wasn’t able to experience the wonder and the beauty of it as a child.

-        to keep the theme consistent, he rents out a quaint recreational woodland not far from the city.

-        he wants it to be perfect just for you especially since you’ve been dreaming of living a fairy tale for such a long time… and here you are now about to fulfill that dream.

-        the wedding starting at dusk, twinkling lights and garlands hanging around the trees, fairy lights sprawled about, blooming archways, lilac ash and sandstone pallets, long romantic banquet, and guests composed of his closest friends and family.

-        you’re dressed in a beautiful white (with pastel blue accents) floofy dress reminiscent of a fairy. embroidered with vines, satin flowers, and butterfly accents. instead of a veil, you’re wearing a flower crown decorated with pretty white daisies and leaves.

-        whilst shoto was wearing a suit reminiscent of peter pan. an exquisite blue suit with a peter pan lily as his boutonnière.

-        As soon as he sees you walking down the aisle, tears were about to stream down from his cheeks.

- the whole todoroki fam are at the brink of tears too, as these were one of the very rare times they see the youngest todoroki with the biggest smile and most blissful look on his face. 

-        All of the guests stand up, each seat has one thin branch with attached handcrafted butterflies and fireflies for them to hold up and to illuminate your way to Shoto.

-        A musician strums their guitar and begins to sing “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis Presley.

-        He’s just beyond delighted to see you. As if flowers were blooming with every step you take, approaching closer and closer to him.

- “wise men say... only fools rush in... but I can’t help falling in love with you...”

-        You looked ethereal. Like a dawning light.

-        You continue to walk down the aisle, looking back at him. All the pure love and adoration you have visible in your eyes.

- midway through your vows, shoto couldn’t take it anymore and the tears just flowed down his face. you giggle lightly, the other guests were snickering along.  you bring him into a hug, kissing his tear-imprinted face as the two of you continue with the ceremony.

- It felt like an absolute dream. This was the best day of both of your lives after all.

-        “And they lived happily ever after.”

- you and izuku  just wanted a simple yet still fancy backyard wedding. 

- as the two of you wanted to spend most of your budget on traveling the world for your honeymoon trip instead.

- you could still make things absolutely beautiful and pleasing to look at after all. with your amazing teamwork and working on the planning together, you could manifest a delightful wedding. 

- there wasn’t a particular theme per se. both you and izu weren’t really ones to go into specifics anyway. you just wanted to replicate a very light and airy feeling that can be seen in most dreamy weddings.

-  string lights hung everywhere, a huge whimsical canopy was built up on the yard with two iridescent chandeliers hanging on the inside, draped fabrics and lush, interwoven greenery, mint and powdered colored accents, and a mini bar at the entrance.

- all of the heroes that izuku had known all his life were invited to the wedding. and of course, they wouldn’t miss it for the world. with practically everyone attending the #1 hero’s big day.

- with the help of the girls from class 1-a and after several hours of trying on the most beautiful dresses, your heart was set on an embroidered tulle and crepe white gown. instead of a veil, you opted for a  white crown headpiece, resembling that of a halo. 

- izuku on the other hand, at the behest of the boys of class 1-a, wanted him to wear something extravagant that could woo you. izuku disliked all the suits that they made him try out and instead went for a black suit jacket, dark blue dress shirt, and to complete the look, a cute little bow tie. 

- you walk down the aisle, holding a bouquet of flowers, your calming and ever so beaming presence felt like the light that he had been looking for all his life.

-  izuku could just stare at you lovingly like this if he could. he fights the tears welling up in his eyes, but he knows he’s going to break soon.

- and he does. as soon as he starts reciting his vows, izuku begins to weep. the genuineness and the love that you could hear from his voice and from the emotions he was showing right now made you feel so warm inside. 

- you hug him and squeeze both of his hands tight as he calmly yet emotionally goes through the entirety of his vow. 

- at the reception, inko and all might offer a special toast to you and izuku. their speech composed mostly of doting words and a lot of light-hearted “parent” jokes. 

- dekusquad + bakugo came up to the stage too to give their chaotic toast to the groom and bride, and the atmosphere and the mood became even more fun and lighthearted.

- as a surprise, you and izuku prepared a short musical number. the two of you were going to duet stand by me by ben e. king.

-  “when the night has come... and the land is dark... and the moon is the only light we'll see~ no I won't be afraid... oh, I won't be afraid. just as long as you stand, stand by me~”

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34​​ @sparkykatsuki​​ @ramunegoddess​, @serossimpy

#bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo headcanons #bakugo headcanons #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki headcanons #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya headcanons

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (January 20/2021) - SEASON TWO FINALE

The Disc Saga has finally come to an end. With both L’manburg and the discs’ stories completed at last, it’s time for a new beginning and a new era, as Dream is locked away in Pandora’s Vault and the server looks forward to a more hopeful future.

Now that Dream is gone, though, there’s a power vacuum that needs to be filled...

And with Season Three on the horizon, a certain  empire has plans to do exactly that.

---

- Ponk makes graves for Tommy and Tubbo in the Graveyard.

- Tommy and Tubbo come online at last. They follow the compass down the Prime Path and start to reminisce about all the old times. Everyone is waiting for them on the Prime Path. They go through one by one and say a goodbye to each of them.

Tommy: “I’ll see you all when we get home.”

- They enter the wilderness and start talking strategy.

Tommy: “I need someone to get back and tell my story.”

Tommy tells Tubbo that while they have the tendency to look on the positive, they have to be honest with themselves. It’s going to be a good fight, but they’re on their last lives. Tonight’s the night they have to win.

- Tommy opens up a bit to Tubbo about the things that still bother him from the exile.

- They find a MASSIVE mountain and go onto land. They start climbing, watching one last sunrise on the cliffside.

- Dream is on top of the mountain with an Enderchest there. Tommy and Tubbo confront him and start attacking before he has time to think. He starts building up a tower of obsidian and plays Mellohi to taunt them. 

A build battle breaks out, reminiscent of the original Disc War. The two manage to snatch the Mellohi disc.

- Dream laughs and says to stop. He hasn’t even begun to try. He almost kills Tubbo, bringing him down to only a few hearts, and gives Tommy an ultimatum: Tubbo or the discs. Dream gives Tommy a countdown from ten.

Tubbo: “Keep this disc. It’ll be worth it! Keep the disc, I’m fine! I’ve done enough in my life! It’s fine! Keep the disc!”

- Tommy gives Dream the disc. Dream laughs and reveals that the disc wasn’t even the real Mellohi, just a fake.

Dream: “I just want to show you how powerful I am, how powerless you are... I could’ve let you just walk away, but no, I’m toying with you. I’m playing with my food. That’s -- that’s the fun in it! That’s the fun in it.”

- He tells Tommy to drop the Axe of Peace for him. Then he tells the two to drop their stuff into a hole and explodes it all, then says he can take them to the real discs. 

- Dream leads them to a chamber with a platform in the middle. He activates it and a redstone elevator leads them down into a blackstone base that goes to bedrock.

Dream: “Listen, Tommy. Ever since you joined the server, you’ve been a headache, okay? You brought war, you brought terrorism, bad everything. But, but, the cause of all the war, of everything, was attachment, right? Your attachment to the discs, your attachment to Henry. To pets, to friends, to land, to countries, to items, right?”

“That’s the one good thing that you’ve done. The one good thing you’ve done is you’ve brought attachment to the server. So it took me a long time to realize how important attachment was, but when I did, you know, it made me stronger, and I realized, y’know, you’re important, right?”

- He shows them the discs. The real discs. 

Dream: “Ever since attachment was on the server...I cut my attachment. I -- I blew up my house, I lost my friends, I lost my items, lost my crossbow, my...y’know...everything that was important to me. My pets. I cut everything! Because I realized that’s what gave people power over each other. The reason you’re here is because I have these dumb little items.

I don’t wanna be controlled, so I cut...everything. I lost everything. But...I had to lose everything. I had to lose everything, to gain everything.

Listen, if I can control the things that people are attached to, then I can control the server again! Because this isn’t Tommy SMP or Tubbo SMP, it’s Dream SMP, right?! So I can control the server if I have everything that everybody cares about, that everybody’s ever cared about, I can control everything, right? I can turn the server back to what it used to be...right?

- Dream leads them into a hallway where there’s a spot for all the things that everyone on the server is attached to. Beckerson and Mars, Fran, Skeppy, Carl, Enderchest, the shulker box...everything.

There’s even a cow named Henry and a sheep named Friend. 

- Dream explains that he needs Tommy to remain because he’s the person who’s brought attachment to things. Tommy’s the key to unlock the full potential of the server and power over people. That’s why he can’t kill Tommy.

Instead, he tells them that he’s constructed a prison.

He says his plan is to lock Tommy up and kill Tubbo. If Tommy wants to be a hero...Every hero needs an origin story, and Tommy’s is Tubbo. Dream gives Tommy a chance to say one last goodbye before it’s Tubbo’s time to die.

Tommy is desperate to keep fighting and keep hope, to always look for another option. Tubbo, meanwhile, has accepted their defeat. He’s accepted his death. All good things must come to an end eventually.

Tommy: “What am I without you?”

Tubbo: “...Yourself.”

Tommy: “Tubbo...even though for this entire server, I’ve always regarded you as my sidekick...really, Tubbo...I was your sidekick. Please don’t go...please don’t go...”

- Just as Dream is about to kill Tubbo, though, Punz comes through the Nether portal at the back of the room.

Punz: “I’m sorry Dream...but you should’ve paid me more.”

Suddenly, everybody comes through the portal at once. Everyone that they had said goodbye too suddenly gathers around Dream in a crowd as Tommy and Tubbo snatch the discs and put them into their Ender Chests.

- Tommy goes up to Dream, knowing he’s too important to kill. Instead, he digs a hole into the floor and tells Dream to drop his items.

- Dream says that Tommy wouldn’t kill him. After all, they have so much fun, don’t they? Tommy tells him that he’s caused nothing but pain and kills him with the Axe of Peace, promising to kill him again and again until he’s dead for good.

- Dream tries to word his way out of it but Tommy kills him a second time with Nightmare.

- Tommy asks Dream for his last words. Dream tries to convince him that he doesn’t need to kill him, that they’re friends! He begs Tommy to stop. As one last move, he lets slip that he can bring people back to life.

That’s what Schlatt’s book was.

The secret to reviving the dead.

- Tommy boxes Dream in obsidian. They know they can’t just let Dream go, and now they can’t kill him either, but Sam suggests an alternative: 

They put Dream in Pandora’s Vault.

Tommy: “Tubbo? ...Let’s make Wilbur proud.

 “SUCK IT GREEN BOYYYYYYY”

- Sam takes Dream away. Tommy says that he’ll be the first to visit him, that he’ll visit Dream tomorrow.

- Tommy tells Dream to confess to what he did. Dream tells everyone that he blew up the Community House, but goes silent after Tommy brings up the exile. Tommy gives a speech to the others. Now that Dream is gone, the server can finally be what it’s meant to be. 

- Dream is taken away, and Tommy and Tubbo say their goodbyes as they return home.

- They make it to Tommy’s house and sit on the bench, finally listening to the two music discs that started this whole thing off in peace.

- A familiar voice speaks.

“Tommy, I’m very impressed..”

“Hello...have you missed me?”

- It’s Wilbur -- the real Wilbur -- speaking with them from beyond the mortal plane. He tells them that he’s proud. He doesn’t want to come back to life. Tommy and Tubbo break the news about possible resurrection. Wilbur realizes that “he’s gonna bring Schlatt back as well.”

Wilbur’s voice fades away before long.

- Tubbo returns to Snowchester after Tommy leaves and realizes that they can declare their independence without Dream now that he’s gone. He wants to speak with Quackity as they talk about the future. 

- Jack is pleased with the outcome. Sure, he was against Tommy, but as a reminder! The Manifesto stated that his goal was to help Tommy and Tubbo get rid of Dream first. Tommy can be dealt with later. If he kills Tommy, not only will he get his revenge on Tommy himself, but it will also hurt Dream. 

Dream said he’d gotten rid of all the things on the server that mattered to him, but he was lying.

He hadn’t gotten rid of Tommy.

And Jack Manifold wants to be the one to do that.

- Jack plans to visit Dream in the prison to taunt him and tell him about how he’s going to kill Tommy and there’s nothing Dream can do to stop him.

- Ranboo is happy that he was right. It had to be everyone against Dream for them to win. But...he’s confused about why Dream said he’d blown up the Community House. Didn’t he do that?

He says he has to talk to Dream and get the true answers.

- Ranboo questions whether he’s a bad guy if he’s done the same things as Dream. Is he a bad person? Does he deserve to go to the prison to?

- He wants to work on his house, but Mellohi suddenly starts playing from somewhere. Frantically, Ranboo starts looking for the jukebox it’s playing from. It gets louder at certain spots...

- He runs back to the Panic Room and the music gets louder.

He clicks the jukebox in the room and Mellohi pops out, the music coming to a halt. Is he a bad person if he does bad things without meaning to? Or while under peer pressure?

He let bad things happen to all the people he wanted to help. He’s betrayed everyone he’s ever spoken to.

The only person who he hasn’t betrayed...is Dream.

He wonders if the Dream voice lied to him about the Community House? The voice has no true connection to Dream, but is it truth what it says? Could it have been wrong? 

Ranboo: “I think...I think he covered for me.”

“There are seventy different stories, but only one of them is right.”

He wonders if he can alter the page where it admits t hat he did those things, but he can’t bring himself to do it for some reason.

Even if the walls are down, they’re still up. Dream still has influence even when he’s locked up.

- He heads back to his house to start working on it and goes into his Comfort Room. It seems like everything’s okay until Mellohi starts playing again. It gets louder just outside his house.

- He starts running again, back through the Nether. Back to the Panic Room. He’s tired of this and wants to get rid of it.

Nothing comes out of the jukebox.

He breaks the jukebox and the song still plays.

He starts shouting at the voice. Why isn’t it appearing? 

- Ranboo wonders what he’s doing wrong, why the song is still playing. He starts denying that he did any of the things he thought he did. He just wants closure so that he doesn’t have to see Dream in prison.

He deletes one of the smiles and the music stops playing. He then deletes the rest of the page.

Ranboo says that he’s still going to visit Dream, but now he’s not looking for closure. Instead, he’s going to tell Dream everything that Dream did to end up in there.

- He opens the chest in the corner. Inside there are two pieces of TNT and...

A new book.

On the black screen, the crown flickers without the smile. The smile flashes for only a few seconds, which spells out in Morse code: IT ISN’T OVER.

- Later, Sam comes on. Now that he’s finished with the prison, he plans to protect it as though it were his child. But he needs a new project.

- So what he plans to do is create a bank and a system of currency for the server.

- Captain Puffy reflects on Dream now being locked up. She says she has plans for business in Snowchester later. 

- Ant’s eyes have turned purple. Bad comes online and Puffy shares her misgivings. Bad and Ant come up with the idea to establish a better headquarters, and want to build a base right above the Egg, but find out that Sam has already claimed the land for his bank.

- They start building the meeting room.

- Sam comes over and gets into an argument with Bad. He still thinks the Egg is bad juju. They show him the meeting room.

Bad: “Dream was just the uniting force where everybody was against him. Now that he’s locked up, things are just gonna get worse, alright? But the Egg can be a uniting force to bring everybody together! And that’s why we all came together and decided to unite our factions and form the Eggpire! The Egg Empire!”

Sam: “The wh-- don’t say that again. Whatever you just said, no...that’s a no from me.”

- Sam still thinks they should destroy it, and is angry that they didn’t tell him about this. Bad argues that they already tried containing it and it didn’t work. He also says the Egg has feelings.

- They take Sam down to the Egg Room with Punz. He’s horrified.

- Bad restates the purpose of the Eggpire, and explains that now that Dream is gone, there’s a power vacuum that needs to be filled. And if it’s not filled by the Badlands, then it’s going to be filled by someone else and that isn’t good for them.

- Sam escapes the Egg Room and the rest of the Badlands are left to discuss their future. Bad is hopeful that Sam will come around to them, and he has plans to speak with Eret as well.

Bad and Ant mention to Puffy that they have a “back up plan,” but won’t tell her what it is.

- Puffy also plans to start a therapy office on the SMP! 

She will be the third one to do so, but hopefully she’ll have more success than the others.

--- What happens now?

- Tales From the SMP Futuristic Episode (Saturday)

- Nuclear weapons test (January 26th)

- Tommy’s visit to Pandora’s Vault (Tomorrow)

- Ranboo’s visit to Pandora’s Vault

The Crimson’s Vines continue to spread across the server. 

Though the Syndicate has been recruiting new members in its fight for anarchy, the Eggpire’s influence grows ever stronger, and who knows where Snowchester will fall in the conflict when these new forces begin to clash?

Only time will tell.

---

ONTO DREAM SMP: SEASON THREE

---

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

[wondernimbus]

everything you didn’t say — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: reader has secrets of her own. a party at the malfoy manor reveals them.

a/n: i had to rewrite this bc im dumb n my first draft didn't save which was Very upsetting but anyways i hope you like it :'') 

“Well, don’t you look dashing.”

Draco’s eyes snap up in the mirror.

[Y/N] is standing in his doorway, having somehow opened the door without him noticing. She has one shoulder leaning on the doorframe, arms folded over her chest, eyebrows raised. There is a glint in her eye that Draco knows all too well; that of playfulness, of fondness. One he has long since associated with safety.

He breathes out a short laugh. “How long have you been standing there?” Draco asks, ringed fingers deftly resuming to work on his tie, but he isn’t having much success. He feels far too jittery, and as a result he keeps accidentally knotting it, only to unwind the silk and try again, over and over like some messed up routine.

Watching her through the mirror’s reflection, he sees [Y/N] step into the room. She’s wearing a plain black dress; lace sleeves, collarbones in display, the silver necklace he’d given her hanging around her neck.

“Long enough to find out that you’re a grown seventeen year old who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.”

Draco still has it in him to roll his eyes, to let out a short-lived laugh. “I do,” he mutters, yanking a little at the fabric in frustration. “It’s just..”

[Y/N] swiftly pads across his room to join him at the dresser, a tiny grin playing across her lips. Standing in front of him, she gently knocks his hands away so as to work on his tie herself.

“Nerves?” she says quietly. The grin on her lips falls slightly as she fixes her gaze on his tie, hands quickly working to loop the loose ends together.

Draco inhales sharply. His palms are clammy, his heart is beating too fast inside of his chest—to say that he’s dealing with nerves would be an understatement.

”You could say that,” he decides, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides. When she looks up to meet his gaze, he tries for a weak smile, if only to quell the storm inside his heart.

”It’ll be fine,” [Y/N] tells him with a pursed smile. She’s done tying his tie. Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, which are covered with his suit jacket. His mother had insisted he wear it, just as her own mother had no doubt insisted [Y/N] wear her dress; it is somewhat of a special occasion, after all, although what they are celebrating is hardly something that neither draco nor [Y/N] feel too ecstatic about it.

”There’ll be drinks,” continues [Y/N] with a lilting tone, thumbs smoothing over the creases of his suit. “And..”

She trails off. There isn’t really much to say.

”Dancing?” Draco suggests half-heartedly.

There is one brief second in which their eyes meet, and both of their lips are already beginning to quirk up at the corners, and then the next they are both breaking out into laughter. And it’s not the kind that hurts your stomach or has you pounding your fists on the ground, but it’s laughter nonetheless—a little rigid, a little heavy-hearted, but it’s just as relieving.

[Y/N]’s shoulders wrack with subtle giggles. “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding. “And I suspect Greyback will be giving a motivational speech.”

Draco feels his lips tug up into a crooked grin. “Hear my aunt might skip out on the party. She’s got knitting to do, you see.”

Both of them let themselves paint a picture inside their head: the infamous, untamed Bellatrix, sitting in a quiet corner with a quilt in her lap, humming a little tune to herself.

[Y/N] throws her head back in a loud laugh, and this time it’s not quite as tense. Draco watches her, laughing quietly on his own, and suddenly his heart doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

He watches as the last of her giggles dissipate, and she is smiling down at her shoes again, and then back up at him.

“We’ll be okay,” she tells him softly, once more reaching out, but not to tie his tie or to smoothen out the creased fabric of his suit, but to card her fingers through his hair the way she knows relaxes him.

Staring down at her—holding her gaze, which is warm and comforting and reminiscent of simpler times, like when she would sneak into his bed at Hogwarts and they would whisper and laugh quietly into the night, taking care not to wake up any of his roommates—Draco allows himself to breathe. To feel like himself again; a boy in love and nothing more.

”Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes, leaning forward to lean his forehead on hers. “Yeah, we will.”

—

Gatherings at the Malfoy Manor were usually a grand event; peacocks would mill about the lawn, some wandering past the large castle doors and into the drawing room, where the guests would stroke their feathers in admiration with one hand and hold a glass of the finest mulled wine in the other as they spoke among themselves, laughing and boasting offhandedly about the ancient living room set they'd imported from France or their children's future careers. Sometimes one would have enough courage to bring up the notion of arranged marriages, only for Narcissa Malfoy to turn them down and say that Draco would choose for himself when the time came, veering the conversation away towards things like ministry connections.

Parties happened often back then—not as much to celebrate as to fill up the overly large halls of the manor with pointless chatter—but things have changed. It’s been a while since the Malfoys last opened their doors to guests.

Does this count as a party? Draco wonders to himself, watching Death Eaters filter into the drawing room, some wearing sickening grins and others looking dead inside.

There are no more wandering peacocks. No more music, no more friendly guests eager to wed their children into the Malfoy family. There are only murderers. Death Eaters. There is laughter, but the kind that has Draco feeling uneasy.

Things have changed. Draco wonders if it's for the better.

He knows he and [Y/N] can't hide here forever—at the edge of the shadowed banister overlooking the entrance hall—but they stay there for as long as they can, until his grim-looking mother comes up the staircase and beckons for them to join the party.

Party. Ha.

So Draco and [Y/N] trail after Narcissa, who leads them into the drawing room, where most of the Death Eaters have gathered. No peacocks, no music, but there is wine, and almost everyone is clutching a glass of it.

He feels [Y/N]'s fingers graze against his. Looking over at her, she sees him staring placidly in front of her, meeting no one's gaze, but she seems to feel his eyes on her—so she turns her head to the side, and Draco sees her facade slip away for the smallest of split seconds as the look on her face softens and she gives him this small, reassuring smile.

He can almost hear her voice inside his head: we'll be okay.

Draco swallows. Nods just a fraction of an inch.

People clap him on the back as he passes, congratulating him and [Y/N] for a job well done at fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco nods mutely and lets [Y/N] do the talking—she has always been better at keeping her composure, masking her true thoughts.

"Could never have imagined it," cackles Alecto Carrow, marching up to them in the middle of the large room. Her cheeks are already tinged pink with intoxication, voice a higher pitch than usual. "Most I expected from you lot was.. well, nothing, really. Doubted you could even fix a dresser, much less a whole bloody cabinet!" she shrieks with laughter, some of the wine from her glass spilling onto the floor.

[Y/N]'s gaze is stony. "Thank you."

Alecto’s nose wrinkles, her chortles dying down. "Thank you?" she repeats. "S'that all you have to say?"

For a brief, horrifying moment, Draco almost thinks [Y/N] is going to bite back with a sarcastic remark—but things have changed and there is a mark on her arm now, so instead she says, flatly, "It wasn’t an easy feat." A slight pause. "We’re just as surprised as you."

Alecto grins. She seems satisfied. "Well, 'course it wasn't an easy feat, or at least for you." She takes a big swig out of her glass. "Could’ve done it myself in ten minutes, isn't that right, Amycus?"

Her brother Amycus snickers but doesn't reply. Draco knows it's because he doubts Alecto's claims just as much as they do; she doesn't seem capable of writing even a bloody paragraph on her own.

"Well," says [Y/N]. "We appreciate your.. praise."

Draco almost snorts. It’s uncharacteristic of her to be so formal, and most of all to take the high road when being insulted. He knows that if things were different, if their lives weren't on the line, she wouldn't be standing here at Draco's side—no, her wand would be at Alecto's throat.

But that little bit of humor quickly fades when Draco finds Amycus staring at [Y/N], uncouth eyes roaming from her lips to her exposed collarbones, the skin hiding just underneath the lace of her sleeves, the dress hugging her figure—

Draco feels anger flare up, hot and heavy inside of his chest. Unconsciously, he finds himself stepping forward, urged on by that unpleasant feeling worming its way into his stomach, curling his hands into fists, tinging the tips of his ears red as his fingers edge closer to the wand inside his pocket.

¨What are you looking at, boy?¨ Amycus sneers, meeting his gaze.

Draco thinks, at that moment, that magic would hardly be fit to put this ugly brute of a man in his place—no, he´d much rather use his fists, pummel them into that crooked nose of his until he kneels at [Y/N]’s feet and begs for her forgiveness, because no one should look at her like that—

[Y/N] is whispering something, but he can´t hear it through the blood rushing in his ears.

But all of a sudden, Amycus’s gaze changes. He is no longer looking at Draco; rather, at something over his shoulder, and then he is bowing his head, eyes downcast.

All it takes Draco is a brief glance behind him to realize why.

He hears [Y/N] now: he’s here. He’s here.

An odd hush has fallen over the large room. The cause is easy to pinpoint; the Dark Lord has appeared at the entrance of the large drawing room, bringing with him a familiar sense of foreboding as everyone’s breath seems to hitch. It’s funny, in a sick way, how easily the atmosphere has shifted from something like ease to suffocating tension. How Alecto, who had been cackling into her glass of wine just moments before, now looks like a dog called to heel. How Amycus has torn his hungry gaze away from [Y/N] to instead stare down obediently at his feet. How Draco’s own parents, who stand a few feet away from the Dark Lord at the entrance, have their lips pursed and their hands clasped in front of them in submission.

Draco would laugh, but he is one of them now, and his head is hung just like the rest of them.

¨My, my,¨ says the Dark Lord, tone soft. ¨What a lovely party.¨

It had been he, the Dark Lord, who had suggested the idea of a celebration to revere in Draco´s and [Y/N]´s success. Not out of fondness, of course, but out of sheer spite for the Malfoys, caused by Lucius’s failure at the Department of Mysteries. This party was just another part of his little mind games; not only had he forced their son, Draco, to let Death Eaters loose inside Hogwarts, but he was now forcing them to celebrate it.

But why is he here?

It had been he who proposed the party, but no one had expected the Dark Lord to actually come. He had other things of actual importance to attend to: things that involved torture and kidnap and blackmail. He was on the brink of taking over the Ministry of Magic, and thus was a busy man—the Dark Lord only goes where he is needed, and not to pointless parties.

Draco swallows.

So why is he here?

¨It is only right, of course,¨ Voldemort continues, his voice still so oddly soft, like he´s addressing children, ¨That we celebrate the success of our young Death Eaters. The task I gave them was not an easy one, I’m afraid, and yet they prevailed, in the end, and proved themselves to us.¨

He wonders if Voldemort has spotted him and [Y/N], and feels bile rise at the back of his throat. Draco doesn´t want him anywhere near her.

Just leave, Draco thinks to himself, his teeth gritted so tight he hears how they scrape inside his skull. Just leave.

“I must admit, a few months ago I had my doubts.. but now here we are, applauding them, congratulating them for a job well done, treating them as one of our own.. welcoming them.”

“Draco.”

[Y/N] has inched closer to him. A moment later she feels her fingers weaving through his, squeezing his palm so tight Draco knows without having to look that her knuckles have turned a ghostly white.

He squeezes back, thinking that she might just be as surprised as him. Just as nervous.

It’ll be okay, he tries to tell her without saying it out loud. He´s too scared to speak. It’ll be okay.

¨And yet even as we toast to their names..¨

Draco keeps his head down. He can hear the sound of Voldemort´s robes rasping against the floor as he moves about the room.

But that is not the only thing he hears. Cold sweat trickles down the side of his temple, because in the Dark Lord’s voice he hears an edge. He senses danger.

A thought bounces around Draco’s skull as he fixes his gaze intently on his shoes: why is he here?

"Even as we welcome them with open arms.. as we let them walk among us unharmed, revered, almost, for their bravery..¨

¨Draco,¨ [Y/N] repeats, a little louder this time but only for his ears, and if the room wasn´t so quiet he wouldn´t have heard her ragged, almost panicked breathing, but it was and he did. 

He senses uneasy movement from behind him. One of the other Death Eaters.

¨Despite our kindness, one of them dares to turn away from us. One of them dares—¨ The Dark Lord´s voice grows colder, angrier, losing control and then all of a sudden softening again after a pregnant pause; ¨One of them dared.. dares to feed information to the fools that call themselves the Order of the Phoenix.¨

Draco hears the collective murmur of surprise that ripples through the room.

“Draco.” [Y/N]’s grip on his hand, if possible, tightens.

¨One of them dares betray us.¨

There is a brief moment of confusion on Draco´s part. He turns his head to look at [Y/N], brows furrowed as he struggles to make sense of the Dark Lord´s words.

But then Draco meets her eyes. Sees the look on her face.

¨I´m sorry,¨ she whispers, and realization hits him like a burst of icy cold water.

¨Seize her,¨ Voldemort says coldly. When Draco looks up, he sees that he is halfway across the room but his gaze is fixed on them—on [Y/N].

Amycus and Alecto are the first to move. They drop their glasses with no hesitation, sending them to the floor where they break into a hundred tiny pieces, and grab [Y/N] by the arms. She resists, wrestling in their arms, but the string of words that leave her mouth aren´t curses, nor are they pleas to let her go; no, they are apologies, repeated over and over again like a mantra as she desperately holds Draco´s gaze—”I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry.”

He watches as they yank [Y/N] across the floor, towards the Dark Lord, away from him. His lungs have stopped working, his heart is pounding wildly somewhere inside his throat, and [Y/N] is being roughly thrown at the Dark Lord´s feet—

Draco can´t breathe. His mind is buzzing, blanking out to a field of white, noise and heat colliding and melting until he can´t think through the blood rushing in his ears.

“Pity,” the Dark Lord whispers, gripping her chin harshly, jerking it up so that she would look at him. 

“I thought you'd proved yourself to be worthy of my praise, but instead it seems you've proved yourself to be rather the opposite—“

She snaps her head away. “Fuck you.”

“You, my child, have proved yourself to be a fool.”

“You´re never going to win.”

The Dark Lord seems unfazed. A grin splits wide on his face, stretching his lips into an uncannily amused grin as he stares down at the girl at his feet for a few seconds before nodding—and then turning around, twirling his wand in his hands—when had he pulled it out?

“And now, my brothers and sisters.”

Draco doesn’t feel his feet move underneath him, but they do.

“Lo and behold what happens to ungrateful fools who turn us away believing that they are saving the world, when in fact they are ruining themselves.”

Everything happens so quickly that Draco barely has any time to react; Voldemort raises his wand, and it seems to almost shine in the light as he points it directly towards [Y/N]—the Dark Lord´s mouth opens, the spell resting on the tip of his tongue, [Y/N] at the opposite end of his wand—

“No!”

It’s as though something inside of Draco has snapped, like he is being jarred awake. He doesn´t think—just darts forward with no real goal in mind other than to put himself in between Voldemort and [Y/N], but then there are hands grabbing at his arms, holding him back—

“Let go of me!” his tone is feral. He jabs his elbow into someone´s stomach, trying desperately to wrestle himself free, but the more Death Eaters he rips off of him, the more take their place. “[Y/N]!” he is breathless. “[Y/N]—”

The Dark Lord is going to kill her. He´s going to bloody kill her.

“Draco,” he hears his mother´s voice but doesn’t see her—he´s too busy thrashing wildly in the arms of whoever has hold of him, yelling out profanities and curses and [Y/N]´s name; “Draco, come. You don´t want to see this.”

“Let fucking go of me!”

But then the Dark Lord´s voice cuts through the havoc—¨Let him stay.¨

“[Y/N]!” Draco shouts, gritting his teeth. There are tears in his eyes; he doesn´t realize they´re there until they´ve fallen and he tastes them on his tongue. “Don´t touch her! Don´t fucking touch her!”

But the Dark Lord is, once again, unfazed. He turns his gaze to Draco but doesn´t lower his wand. “Watch, my child,” he says, voice ringing throughout the room, cold and unforgiving. “And pay close attention. This is what happens to cowards. To fools. To ungrateful scum.”

[Y/N]´s back is turned to Draco, and maybe it is better that way, because when the Dark Lord raises his wand, he doesn´t have to see the light leave her eyes.

Draco feels the entire world slow down. A single thought appears inside the ruined mess that is his mind, almost as if it’s mocking him—[Y/N] has always been better at masking her true thoughts. At hiding things; even from him. 

We’ll be okay, [Y/N] had told him.

She had lied.

¨Avada Kedavra!¨

general taglist:  @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03​ @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy​ ​@kpopgirlbtssvt​ @lumielikesbooks​ @teheharrypotter​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual @chaoticgirl04

#harry potter #hp oneshots #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #harry potter oneshot #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagines #draco imagine #draco oneshots #draco oneshot #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x you #draco x y/n

[bubsdolan]

PART THREE PART THREE PART THREE I LOVE YOUR WRITING PART THREE WHEN YOU CAN PART THREE 💥💥💥💥💳💥💥💥💥

{part 2}

approximately 2 weeks, 3 days, 17 minutes and 9 seconds had passed since you were first rushed into the emergency room and induced in a coma, taking grayson’s heart with you. not that he was counting, but grayson never thought he would cry for you as much as he did. he needed you back.

as he remained stuck to your bedside, his hand never leaving your cold, pale and lifeless one, he reminisced back to when life was perfect. when it was you and him agasint the world. happy, healthy and blissfully in love.

grayson missed everything about you, he missed the way you would play with his hair mindlessly as he drove, your fingers soothing his scalp and your humming a perfect melody to his ears. he missed the way you would constantly tease him with your playfulness when you wanted to cheer him up after a stressful day, he missed the way your smile lit up the entire room and had his heart beating out of his chest whenever your eyes met his.

he loved being loved by you.

he missed it. he craved your attention again.

grayson missed the way you would always give him the bigger half of montys burger as you knew his own order wouldn’t touch the sides for his large appetite and he missed the way you would sneak sips of his milkshake when you thought he wasn’t looking. he noticed everytime, but found it adorable the way you thought you were slick with it. grayson always ordered the cookie dough milkshake, even when he wanted a strawberry one as he knew you would regret ordering the coffee flavour and steal his.

he knew you like the back of his hand, better than you knew yourself.

“bro you gotta eat,” ethan pleaded with grayson, trying his best to get his brother to even look at him but his eyes never once left your motionless body. grayson hadn't touched a drop of water let alone food. he could bare the thought of leaving your side incase you needed him, incase you were ready to wake up and finally come back to him.  

“eat for her, gray c’mon.”

grayson felt utterly helpless. he was normally always so good at banishing your pain away, whether it be kissing away cuts and scrapes you get from being your clumsy self, to soothing your cramps and period pains, his hands were healing.

dispite all this, grayson had to sit back and watch you in a state he had no control over. he wanted nothing more than to trade places with you, to take away your pain and suffering away and save your life. but as we all know, life wasn’t always kind. he would wish upon a thousand stars if it meant he could stare into your eyes. he wished to fall in love with you one last time. 

“she's gonna be ok man, i promise” ethan didn't believe his own words, remembering back to the moment he had entered the hospital where your doctor had approached him, unable to speak to grayson due to his emotional state, and confined in ethan that there was a high possibility you wouldn’t wake up. you weren’t showing any signs of improvement yet ethan knew his brother needed to hear those reassuring words no matter the consequences they held further done the line.

grayson stayed slient, a few tears rolling down his face as the one hand that wasn’t resting in yours, toyed with the velvet box in the pocket of his sweatpants- it never left his side since you got admitted.

“it’s our anniversary tomorrow.” this was the first time in 2 weeks grayson had spoken to anyone besides you. although he waasn’t looking in ethan’s direction, his word were meant for him.

“gray-“

“i let her down bro. the one promise i made to her, to myself, to dad, and i broke it. she’s here because of me and there’s absolutely nothing i can do to save her.” growing frustrated with himself, his words stung yet it was less pain than what you were currently being put through. grayson felt selfish to think of anything else than you.

“i pushed her away, if it wasn’t for me she wouldn’t be here right now! if i hadn’t had lost my temper, called her those horrible names- i- she..no.”

“no fuck this. it’s now or never.”

ethan watched with wary unsettled eyes as grayson rose from his seat, pushing it agasint the wall and dropping to one knee. he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed every knuckle with such gentle pressure. sighing and preparing himself for what was about to come.

ethan got his camera ready, knowing his brothers intentions and although he believed you could hear every word, when you woke up it would be a make the troubling experience that little bit lighter once you saw the memorabilia.

“y/n, baby i know you can hear me right now so let me say this- i love you, more than i have ever or could ever love something in my life. you’re my purpose, your the reason ive been put on this earth. my job is to love you and i want to spend the rest of my life doing so.”

wiping his tears to clear his blurry vision, he takes a deep inhale and continues. you hear every word, your body fighting with itself to open your eyes and jump into the arms of your destiny.

“the story of our love is only beginning. let's write our own happy ending. marry me baby. come back to me and be my wife yeah?” 

after his speech, one he had gone over thousands of times in his head, yet when he came down to the very moment he just spoke from the heart, grayson delicately slide the custom made ring onto your finger. smiling for the first time in weeks as it was everything he had ever imagined, it was more beautiful than he had remembered and the fact it was you adoring it, made his heart swore with happiness. 

“congratulations man,” ethan pulls grayson in for a brotherly hug, wholeheartedly believing if you were awake right now, you'd jump into graysons arms screaming yes and declaring your love for him. a moment to treasure forever but the circumstances were cruel.

“thanks bro, i need to do that for me. for our future and hope that she makes it. she can’t leave me e.. sh-she can’t.”

“wake up for me pretty girl.” grayson resumes his place by your bedside, his hand clutching yours again as he prepares himself for another painful night without hearing your voice. “p…please.”

a while passes, it’s bearing on midnight with ethan passed out in the corner of the room wrapped in a a blanket he brought from home. grayson is resting his head on your hand and praying like he did every night, unable to allow himself to sleep when sudden he feels a sudden movement beneath him. 

you twitch. your fingers brushing agasint grayson as your body struggles to bring itself round.

“e-E! she moved- she moved!” grayson is frantic, startling ethan awake as he desperately tries to call out for you. his heart beat picking up, breathing erratic he would for sure need his inhaler any moment.

he caressed your cheek, hoping his soft touch would be enough to tell you he was there, you were safe and he was waiting for you.

“NURSE!” ethan yells, hitting the emergency button he was warned may times to hit in a case like this. he flung the door open and in stormed a whole crew of night staff. “she moved!”

“sir im going to have to ask you to stand back,” one nurse calmly addressed grayson, trying to respectfully break the contact he had with your hand to allow a thorough inspection to take place.

“baby, no.. no no what's happening- is she ok? im not leaving!” grayson cried, clutching desperately onto your hand in fear you would slip away from him. you loved right? that’s a good sign right? so why was your body swarmed with doctors and nurses screaming codes at each, surrounded by machinery grayson didn’t like the look off.

“don’t take me away from her!”

“sir. i won’t ask again, please stand back.”

“NO BABY, DONT DO THIS Y/N. you gotta come back to me, you hear me… you- you can’t leave me!”

“gray, c’mon man.”

ethan had to physically hold grayson back, forcefully dragging him outside the room to allow the professionals to do what they needed to do. an emotional tearful grayson was only going to complicate the matter and ethan was sure you wouldn’t want grayson to see you this way.

grayson cried, screamed and reached out for you. so distressed and weak as ethan cradled him in his arms and held him. no words of reassurance or confidence as the truth of your fate had finally started to sink in. he had to listen to his twin cry and there was absolutely nothing he could do as an older brother.

ethan cried for you. he cried for grayson. he cried for the love his brother just hated his whole life for and lost in a matter of seconds.

you flatlined, your heart monitor sounding one continues bleep that grayson only ever heard in movies. you stopped breathing, your body stopped beating for him.

12:00pm.

“happy anniversary baby,” grayson whispered. his voice breaking and his body trembling with tears as he broke down in his brothers arm. falling to his knees as the warmth of life had been stolen by the cold embrace of death. grayson was pleading, screamed, fighting with you to wake up but his prayers seemed to go unanswered.

he had to watch the love of his life, his new fiancé, his soulmate flatline in front of his very eyes on your anniversary. grayson felt his entire world come crashing down around him.

#don’t hate me #i also rushed this so it’s shit bye #bubbablurb #grayson dolan #bubsdolan #grayson #grayson dolan angst #grayson angst #grayson dolan imagine #grayson imagine #grayson dolan blurb #grayson blurb #grayson dolan concept #grayson concept #grayson dolan fluff #grayson fluff #grayson dolan x reader #grayson x reader #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twins #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins concept #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins x reader #grayson dolan fic #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins smut #dolan twins angst #dolan twins fluff #grayson fic

[stellocchia]

I really liked Wilbur's lore stream from yesterday, so you guys are getting a short stream analysis from me

As always dialogue is color-coded: Wilbur, Tubbo, Ranboo

And since I'm the least concise person ever everything is under the cut

The stream is (DSMP LORE) A Year Later

The stream starts with Wilbur singing the L'Manburg anthem to Ranboo. It is interesting to notice that, just like all the streams since he's been back he doesn't start off the stream by addressing chat in any way but already taking with someone in-universe.

"I'm a big big fan of the song (...) (Wilbur notices that Ranboo was muted) so sorry, let's try again: have you heard that song before?" "Yeah I have, I have. I have- I've had a friend that sings it quite a lot" “Good, good, and I was gonna say, it’s obviously based on Hallelujah right? But the thing is, the thing is Ranboo, right? But the thing is- the thing is Ranboo, right? Is that the reason we did it is because Tommy used to sing Hallelujah to the plants" "Oh, to the plants?" "Yeah! In- in the- around the- around the uhm... around the thing! You know the- the caravan? (...) so, my man, Tommy used to sing to the plants to make them grow better and that was the song he used to sing and so I thought what a way to honour Tommy, you know, one of the most- one of the most loyal members or of our fair nation than by naming the song after him, you know? And singing it based on his little- his little Muse. Tommy is a- Tommy is all of our Muse really I'd say"

I cut as much of this quote as I could while still leaving it well understandable and leaving in everything I wanted to talk about, but man is it long... So let's break it down a bit at a time:

1) The friend that Ranboo referenced that sings the anthem a lot is most likely Tubbo considering that they met him later on in this stream while he was singing that very song

2) The memory of the song seems to still be a particularly pleasant one for Wilbur, which probably explains why Ghostbur as well was so fond of it. He speaks about it positively throughout and it generally seems like an overall positive moment of reminiscence, probably because it's a callback to a simpler time when Wilbur too was, you know, happier overall. It's a reminder of a time before the worsening of his spiral.

3) Also interesting that they kept it in canon that Tommy singing to the plants was what inspired the anthem. Especially because I'm not entirely sure if that's the case considering that the actual anthem wasn't written by cc!Wilbur but by a fan upon his request (obviously this is outside the story).

4) Last thing I wanted to mention was Wilbur describing Tommy as a Muse. Muses in mythology are the inspirational goddesses of the arts, music, and science, Tommy aside from the anthem obviously isn't that. But it is interesting that Tommy does take a central role when it comes to motivating people. We could say that Techno's speech on the 16th was inspired by him since it was directed at him. Similarly, Niki and Jack had their arcs revolving around him. Tommy was able to rally the troops with ease multiple times. And Dream's obsession with him itself is the main motivator for, like, 90% of his actions. So, while he may not cover the role of a muse literally it's not a comparison that is too far off...

They headed to the museum afterward and took notice of the Ranboo poster being missing. And then they headed off to L'Manburg (which, by the way, looks amazing, thank you cc!Phil for that one).

"It goes by L'Manhole now apparently" "I- yeah it's kinda- ugh- I'm not a fan. It's kinda rude to L'Manburg's history, you know? It- it's called L'Manburg. It's called L'Manburg. NOT Manberg, not L'Crater or whatever. L'Manhole, I don't care, it's now L'Manburg, it's always L'Manburg, okay?"

It's interesting that not too long ago he was saying that even L'Manburg itself (with an emphasis on the name) wasn't what was actually important, the purpose of it was. He admits later on that he lied in that conversation, but it's impressive how quickly he trusted Ranboo enough to let him see how much he still cared about L'Manburg when he was so intent on lying about it not too long ago.

Wilbur's enthusiasm about seeing the flag is another nice confirmation about him still caring deeply for his old nation.

"Damn, I really went down to bedrock, didn't I? Holy shit I did- I did a number on this place" (I wonder why Ranboo didn't correct him on this, because Ranboo knows that Techno, Phil, and Dream are the ones who actually exploded the country down to bedrock...)

They end up seeing Tubbo on the other side of the crater and head over to him. While they're heading there Tubbo is singing the anthem himself in a very mournful tone.

One interesting thing that I noticed it's that it's Wilbur that heads towards Tubbo's location instead of having Tubbo go to him like he mostly did with Tommy for example. I suppose it could be because Tubbo having been a president himself is in less of a subordinate position to Wilbur than Tommy who's always been a simple soldier.

"It's like looking in a little mirror, look you're wearing my suit still? How long have you been wearing that?" "Oh I just put it on, just for today" (in a similar fashion to Jack bringing out the L'Manburg uniform to reminisce, Tubbo also brought out clothes he strongly attaches the memory of L'Manburg to)

"Ranboo have you met Tubbo?" "Yeah, yeah. I've- I've met him, I mean we've, uhm... we've been around" (Ranboo still minimizing his relationship with Tubbo to Wilbur. Of course, this is because he doesn't trust him but it's interesting that he isn't even honest about that)

After a bit of back and forth, Wilbur starts apologizing to Tubbo. At first, like most other times he's having a serious discussion he puts himself in an elevated position to tower over Tubbo. It's a neat way to show how his own desire for control affects him, having Wilbur literally elevate himself over others when speaking to them. Literally putting Tubbo down in this situation. Which does make the beginning of his apology very obviously feel insincere.

"I'm sorry for making you president specifically before blowing it up and I'm sorry for when I did this *pointing at the crater* and blew all this up and making this whole. I'm sorry that I uh- that I said that you were the president of a crater"

This is that first part of the apology I mentioned. Just to clarify, I don't actually think that it was entirely insincere. It just feels less impactful due to Wilbur putting himself in a position of superiority over Tubbo, especially because it's something we've seen him do before. It's also to be noted that this time, like others before, he seems to be apologizing less out of actual guilt and more out of a desire to earn forgiveness. Which is not a critique by the way. I just feel like that's a misconception Wilbur has, that apologies serve the purpose of confirming to him that he's doing a good job at changing more than to actually make amends for what he's done. The reason why I think that's the case for the beginning part of this apology as well it's because of how fast he went to ask tubbo if he forgave him, which did put a certain level of pressure on Tubbo in this situation.

"I mean it wasn't- this wasn't all you Wilbur" (thank you tubbo for finally dispelling some of those misunderstandings)

"Yeah so me and mainly Ghostbur honestly, like-" "Ghostbur" (some more of Wilbur not being too fond of Ghostbur)

"Right is he [Ghostbur] this obsidian crap then I take it and these- these fucking dumb lanterns up here" (a bit more)

To correct Wilbur's misconceptions Tubbo starts off asking if the other knew Dream, to which Wilbur responds with how much he appreciates Dream and how he's his hero, which makes Tubbo backtrack and blames most of Doomsday on Techno and Phil. Which, as we know, isn't actually accurate and I have a feeling that this misinformation will be harmful later on once Dream is out of prison (though I don't blame Tubbo for backtracking with how enthusiastic Wilbur is, that was the basic conflict-avoidant approach that Tubbo seems to prefer).

"They rained tnt for days" (if this is actually canon then Doomsday was even more of a tragedy than we previously saw it as. It was days filled with fighting and destruction. Then again, Tubbo has misremembered traumatizing events before)

"Techno and Phil, they hated the government. I mean it was partially my fault as well" "But you didn't blow it up" "No I didn't. I would never have wished or anything like this to happen" "So it was just Techno and Phil?" *long pause* "Y-yeees"

Two things to say here:

1) I appreciate someone in canon recognizing that it's not Tubbo's fault for what happened to L'Manburg and blaming the people who actually blew it up, similarly to how I appreciate Wilbur bringing up with Tommy that it was clearly Dream pulling the strings with his exile with Tubbo. It's nice having it stated plainly for people to hear

2) This is the misconception I mentioned. This is most certainly gonna backfire at some point.

After that Wilbur commends Tubbo quite a lot for rebuilding New L'Manburg (once again being dismissive towards Ghostbur) and is clearly enthusiastic about it, even going as far as to say that that mattered more to him than them building him a grave.

"I just, I feel lost without L'Manburg. All my core beliefs, everything died with it" "You feel lost without a nation..." "I have no purpose anymore" "I guess that's where anarchy fails" (I think this may be the first time someone admits it to someone else, even though that lack of purpose and feeling disoriented is very obviously a shared sentiment amongst the ex-citizens)

After that, it's when Wilbur invites Tubbo to join Paradise, the, supposedly burger van with a small house attached to it that wasn't supposed to become a nation. I have a feeling that the proposition coming right after that exchange may imply that Wilbur changed his mind on it. He does purposefully put himself again in an elevated position when making the proposition.

"Would you like to come join me in Paradise? Literally" "Hmmm, I'm not sure Wilbur. I'm not sure I trust you man, I need to- in order to follow someone I need to trust them" "Wait, wait but you- I thought you forgave me! I thought it was, you know it-" "Wilbur I forgive you because I like to hang on to the hope that people can change, but-"

This is what I mean when I say that Wilbur's apologies come with expectations for the person he's apologizing to. By asking Tubbo first if he forgave him when he originally apologized, he already made it harder for Tubbo to refute that. And now we learn that he expected trust to come along with forgiveness. He's not doing this maliciously of course, but he does seem to have some misconceptions on this.

"I know you had that- that at the festival? With Technoblade? I never spoke to you properly about this. I- I could have saved you" "But you didn't" (other people brought this up, but this is a neat little parallel to the one scene in exile where Ranboo was lamenting about how he should have gone with Tommy and Tommy shut him down pointing out that anyone could have gone but no one actually did)

There is a second round of apologies and Wilbur is still standing higher than Tubbo, BUT he does put himself on his same level after he did a bit more pushing and found that Tubbo was standing his ground. He finally puts himself on the same level as Tubbo and openly acknowledges his boundaries which is the first actual real effort to change that we've seen from Wilbur. Which I'd say is a pretty important step for him.

"Wilbur in order for you to gain my trust back you have to prove it, I can't just give it out anymore. I used to be able to but I just- I just can't" (acknowledgement of how Tubbo's trauma also affected him deeply)

"You know I still have dreams, right? Of the explosion. And- and of the fireworks. And- and all of it. I- I still- I vividly see all of it. Every day. It hurts. It hurts a lot Wilbur"

I want to commend Tubbo here for being able to open up like this, especially considering how much he generally leans into denial and how much he usually suppress. And on top of that this is Tubbo acknowledging that both Wilbur's actions (the explosion) and Techno's actions (the fireworks) have hurt him and STILL hurt him and affect him deeply. It's quite a big admission especially for him.

"Sorry feels like such a weak word. I feel like there's nothing stronger that I can say" (first time that he's standing on the same level of Tubbo while apologizing)

"You're so strong man. Genuinely. You just- just the fact that you proved to me just there that you have this memories, that you have this nightmares and you still find it in your heart to forgive me. That's... you're a fucking champion man. You- you're a hero"

It's interesting that the reason why he claims Tubbo to be strong here is because he forgave him. It's not something that's inherently about Tubbo, like the fact that he still found the strength to go on and rebuild after the events he mentioned, for example, no. What Wilbur brought up is the one thing that Tubbo did for him. Which tells me that he still clearly has a bit of way to go to learn how to make amends and how redemption actually works, but, you know, that's to be expected honestly.

Wilbur moves on by inviting Tubbo to at least come and see Paradise, just to see what they'd made and Tubbo refuses because he wanted to spend more time reminiscing. Wilbur this time respect Tubbo's boundaries with no pushing which is yet another step forward for him honestly. Wilbur also gives Tubbo a "lucky rabbit's foot" that Tommy gave him to cheer him up and assure him that he had no problems with him not going.

With this their conversation comes to a close and Wilbur and Ranboo head over to Paradise (though not before Ranboo has confirmed with Tubbo that he actually does want to be left alone).

"You know I was gonna say 'this is hard' but obviously it's hard. I mean, you know, I've..." (a bit of reflection on his actions for Wilbur, you love to see it!)

"It's gonna get better! It's gonna get better! And it's gonna be worth it when I see them smiling. All of them. Tubbo, Jack, Niki, Tommy, anyone!" (I'm pretty sure that this is a genuine sentiment right here. It really does seem that wilbur's Big Plan right now is just to make amends and change)

"Do you know who the original L'Manburg group were? Do you know who we were?" "I- I think most of them yeah... I think it was like: you, Jack, Niki, Fundy I believe as well" "Fundy was a bit after. Fundy was after we'd gotten independence"

I wonder if that's an actual misrememberance on Wilbur's part (c!Wilbur, not cc!Wilbur, I'm sure cc!Wilbur remembers this) or just him wanting to put some distance between his good memories of L'Manburg and Fundy. Because Jack and Niki weren't there for the independence war either and yet he singled out Fundy who was. And I doubt that he'd forget about his son being one of the people who lost their first life in the final control room. In addition to that Wilbur didn't mention Fundy before among those he wanted to make smile.

I really think that this was intentional and that it was because, well, Wilbur felt deeply betrayed by Fundy. And we as the audience know that Fundy only ever publicly stopped acknowledging him as his father to be able to stay undercover as a spy, but he doesn't. It wouldn't be so weird that he wanted to erase Fundy from his memories of the time when he was supposed to be happy.

"I try and keep this on the low because I don't want uh- I don't want people to use it against me is the main problem. I do wa- I didn't even tell Tommy, I lied to Tommy" "Yeah?" "I'll be honest I'm gonna tell him soon that I lied to him because if it- it kinda eats away at me. But I told- I told tommy that I didn't actually care about L'Manburg and that it was just like a tool for me to use to gain, you know, power and stuff, but it's not- it's not true. L'Manburg is- was really important to me. And it is still to this day"

Once again I'm surprised how little it took Wilbur to trust Ranboo with stuff he hasn't really told anyone else. Makes you really understand how low of an opinion of himself he has that when the first person that calls him "alright" out loud just gets his undying trust. Especially considering that Ranboo doesn't trust him back and hasn't been the most honset with him so far. It's also a nice spelled out admission for anyone who didn't get how much Wilbur cares about L'Manburg from the longing look he gave to the camaravan's replica in the stream where he said he never cared.

"I wanted history to live on, not as a stain caused by me, you know. I basically took a big shit on the history books it feels like" (just another interesting little insight on Wilbur's view of the situation)

"I've heard about what's Tommy's, you know, moved on... and how jack's moved on, and how Niki's moved on and everyone's moved on from L'Manburg at least partially, but Tubbo man, he's still..." (he only thinks the rest of them moved on because he hasn't spoken almost at all with two of them and he never really listened to Tommy. Also, again, Fundy is not mentioned)

"I don't know where I'd be without you [Ranboo] here right now man, I mean T-Tommy's great and all and he's here but I- I feel like, you know, I don't wanna- I don't wanna string him along too much because he's- I- when I look at him. When I look at him when he's helping me out building things with me I see the same eyes that looked at me when... when... There were some- there weren't some fun times in the ravine of Pogtopia. I wasn't a very well man and I can just see Tommy from that day"

This one was one heck of a confession!

I don't know if this is me misremembering, but I'm fairly sure that this is the first time he's admitted to not being great to Tommy specifically. Again, Tommy is the one person he met with so far that he hasn't apologized to. Heck! He told Tommy to his face that him being sorry for his actions didn't mean he wouldn't do them again. It's a pretty damn big admission to acknowledge that that behaviour (which is the same now, if not worse when only related to Tommy) wasn't good. It also shows that he's at least a bit aware of Tommy's emotions which is rarely shown honestly. Though whether he cares because of Tommy or because being around Tommy makes him feel guilty (which is what you'd expect him to feel) and he doesn't like that is to be determined still, mostly just because the phrasing was a bit uncertain at the moment.

"I know what it's like to have no one- or at least feel like no one trusts you. Uhm, and I- I've realized that if- if no one's with you then how can anyone really know when you've redeemed yourself? So that's why I'm here I guess" (Ranboo's answer to why he trusts Wilbur. Which he doesn't, but still)

And the stream ends with Wilbur saying he hopes Tubbo comes around to try out one of the burgers (though he does repeat that he doesn't want Ranboo to pressure him to join) and complimenting Ranboo a bit more.

#dream smp #wilbur soot #ranboo #tubbo #c!wilbur #c!ranboo #c!tubbo #character analysis #dream smp analysis #long post #I said it would be short and I most definitely lied #but you guys should know that I'm not capable of brevity by now #so honestly it's on you if you believed the title

[animecreator3000]

About the Boueibu iceberg

@delphoxqueen asked me to explain about my list for the iceberg so here it is. I might update this from time to time with links and stuff if I stumble across the original posts. This is all from what I know so feel free to add new info. Also, spoiler warning for RobiHachi and the Boueibu manga and novels. (This is like a masterpost it’s very long)

1. There’s a theory in tumblr about which decade the series is set in, using data like the friday the 13th calendar in s2 ep11. In HK we got a second number for when the next monthly Pretty Boy Contest was happening and using the one from Love it was theorized that around a decade had passed since then, which ended up being true.

2. The stage play had a few original songs and characters exclusive to it so unless you watched the full performance, you probably weren’t able to witness all of them. One of the characters is called “Robato Deniro”, as romanized in the stage play booklet I own.

3. The nurse and the cafeteria staff from the s1 mobile game appear in the background in around the first half of s2 ep3.

4. S2 had an unfinished manga that was only available online and was never released on physical format; it was centered around the defense club and sometimes the conquest club and Beppu brothers. All that’s left from what I know are the scans linked on magicalgirlsandcerulean’s blog.

5. This isn’t that obscure because it’s talked about in the anime, but I’m mentioning it because I think many people dropped it before the ova, where right at the beginning it is revealed that the alien that resucitated Mr. Tawarayama twice was, as described by Io, a “mulberry-colored naked mole rat-looking thing”, and was nicknamed “Moley-san” by Yumoto. At least in the anime, we had never heard before of who this was and it never appeared on screen nor was mentioned again.

6. In HK ep8, Karurusu promises the knights to grant a wish if they show him how earthlings spend summer. Kyoutarou reveals at the end of the episode that he wished that summer lasted one more day so he could spend it doing nothing, which prompts Ichiro to theorize that it’s the 32nd of august, and the next day is the second 1st of september.

7. The stage play was was held from march 10th to 13rd, of which the latter is Ryuu’s birthday. There’s an additional recording of a small celebration with cake focused on Ryuu and Io.

8. Atsushi mentions his older sister in the flashback at the beginning of s1 ep4, but she never appears or is mentioned again.

9. There’s a few posts on tumblr theorizing about what happened to the Hakone parents since Yumoto only says in s2 ep3 that according to Gora, “they are busy with their hot springs tour”. En mentions that it’s a bit suspicious, but it’s all the information we have from the anime. Posts talk about the parents perhaps passing away from an accident or an illness, thus the reason why Gora was so worried about Yumoto’s cold in s1 ep10, but from another post I think it’s implied in the second novel that they actually left their home when Yumoto was still a toddler.

10. It’s no secret that the surnames of the characters are all real onsens in Japan that even the seiyuus have visited, but apparently the Arima onsen has two different kinds of water, “kinsen (gold hot spring)” and “ginsen (silver hot spring)”, with different properties each, and the Kusatsu onsen water also has certain properties, both that were used to build the characters. Additionally, Ryuu’s favorite food are Sato Nishiki cherries, which are grown in the same prefecture, Yamagata, as his onsen, Zaou.

11. The press club lose relevance after s1, with only Kinosaki and Tazawa reappearing briefly in s2 ep2 to interview the Beppu twins after they arrive at the school. Tazawa doesn’t even have lines. Hireashi is mentioned by Zundar in ep11.

12. What the heck

13. Exclusively in the manga we see that Arima met Kinshiro and Atsushi when they were little and they were good friends, but when they met again as adults, Kinshiro seemingly didn’t remember Arima. Atsushi, however, stated that Kinshiro’s talent is remembering people’s faces and names, so Arima wonders if he’s just trying to distance himself from him. He also explains to Akoya that he follows Kinshiro and obeys him because as a child, he was fascinated by his radiant smile. This is never talked about in the anime.

14. Like the previous point, the anime never shows Akoya being bullied, at most just a slight dislike of his full name, but the manga shows that he was made fun of for it and how he actually hates his surname, to the point of introducing himself formally to the president and vicepresident of the student council as “Holy Angel Akoya”.

15, 16, 17, 19. Batonama lives were the livestreams done through the franchise by the defense club seiyuus on youtube and niconico. They’re all on youtube, without any kind of translation.

Love-ko is a girl with a shell bikini drawn on a piece of cardboard that was used as a girlfriend in the Batonama Love! lives, acted by the seiyuus themselves.

RobiHachi has one episode full of official Boueibu artwork and a parody of the series too, a Love-ko doll appears, and Wombat appears as well, named “The Don”. It received an english dub, so for a bit, people were excited that Wombat was going to speak in english too. Also, various mechas appear in both Boueibu and RobiHachi.

18. The director of Fairy Ranmaru (Masakazu Hishida if I’m not wrong) revealed in an interview that he was inspired by Boueibu and aimed to make a show like that.

20, 21. The website super-groupies.com has results for defense and conquest club lingerie sets, dc and VEPPer tote bags, the Beppus’ scarf rings, dc bath sets and the pumps magicalgirlsandcerulean mentioned. I’ve found the s1 Loveracelets and Caerula Adamas’ ring on different sites, the True Loveracelets on TheChara’s twitter and the Happybraces (apparently called “Hapibure”) on broccoli.co.jp but I’m not sure where exactly they were all announced and sold, so I’ll just drop that.

22, 33. Boueibu was originally pretty much a copy of Sailor Moon, I think they were all going to be called “Lackluster Moon” and that stuff and be literally Sailor Moon genderbent. They were all different from color palettes to physical features (except Yumoto’s), and Ryuu was a shota, even smaller than Yumoto. Their names were also very reminiscent of the five Sailor Senshis’. Even if they made it more original, the show is still clearly inspired by Sailor Moon (just look at Caerula Adamas lol) and Pretty Cure. It has also referenced, very blatantly, animes like Doraemon, Detective Conan, Aikatsu and even Vocaloid, when Kyoutarou tries to guess what Karurusu is saying with ““Just Google It, Asshole”?” in ep1.

23. Wombat’s real name and the name of his planet sound like gibberish to the earthlings and ends up being named after the Earth animal, but Zundar, Dadacha, Karurusu and Furanui all have original names. And I think Hireashi means “goldfish”?

24. If you google “zundar technology”, it’s actually a company in Shanghai, China. Aren’t Wombat and Zundar always talking about “advanced alien technology”?

25. Zundar and Dadacha are siblings, so are Karurusu and Furanui, and so are their father King Kamopapa and their uncle minister Wao, but neither are the same species and, except the first two, not even the same color. But they are supposedly related because they share birthmarks or something like that...

26. Everyone who’s in this fandom knows about the pixel blur and voice pitch censor from s1, but I’ve added it anyway because it’s so rare for mahou shoujo and shounen animes to explain why the heroes aren’t recognized when transformed.

27. A good while of s2 ep11 is spent discussing Zundar’s ex-wife and his problems to give child support. Naturally, he gets mad at this.

28. “Money doesn’t betray” (s1 ep6) and “The despair hidden behind your smile that comes from not being understood” (s3 ep11) are sentences that came out of nowhere and implied that the people they were said by (Io) or about (Taiju) respectively had some kind of angst going on but were never explained at all. They’re famous for just that.

29. The Beppu twins’ house in Andromeda shown in flashbacks had strange green circles that apparently are from another anime I don’t know but honestly I didn’t get it very well... It was revealed on a tweet from Takamatsu.

30. Alien language mostly appeared in s2 due to the many flashbacks of Aki and Haru in Andromeda, but in Boueibu s1, it appears on the Zundar Needle before it is shot on the human. It appears a lot through RobiHachi as well, due to being a story about travelling through space. There might be an alphabetical chart somewhere, but I can’t assure it exists, I might even have dreamed it.

31. Hikaru Midorikawa as the melon monster, Kousuke Toriumi as the bishounen monster, Yoshitsugu Matsuoka as the kotatsu and panda monsters and Takuya Eguchi as the remote controller monster in s1 and 2, before going on to voice the main cast in HK. Keisuke Koumoto voiced Hatchi Kita in RobiHachi as well as Akihiko in Boueibu, and the characters look similar.

A new addition is that so far Boueibu is the only anime I’ve seen where children weren’t voiced by female seiyuus, but by actual children. Personally, it’s charming and makes it so much more realistic, specifically since no women appear in the franchise at all either (not counting Protag-chan in the game).

32. Speaking of seiyuus, Can I Destroy The Earth? had a dub shown in ep11/12 (?) that made Gora the villain that wanted Earth to stay the same and not progress, against the monsters that supposedly wanted to bring good things to earthlings. Aki and Haru quickly dismissed this dub as fake. (I made a mistake in the title in the previous post btw)

34. As seen in the glossary in the Boueibu Mook (I think, but might not be the mook), Caerula Adamas’ speeches are based on an old japanese detergent commercial that went “Gold, silver, pearl, gift”.

35. In the manga there’s a short parody of the first chapter of Sailor Moon with “Pretty Boy Guardian Gakuran Akoya”. The conquest club manga was released before the anime, so I remember reading somewhere that a fake website appeared for the Gakuran Akoya manga, before turning into the conquest club manga website in the day of its release.

36. Cgi was used a few times in the anime: s2 ep10 for a short sequence of the defense club on a rollercoaster and the carousel monster, ep11 for a cenital shot of the Battle Lovers singing, and HK ep12 for the Honyalaland soldiers and the Wao mecha.

37. The toothbrush incident in s1 ep7. (It’s definitely well-known but it’s so weird lol)

38. “We hope we can see each other again someday!” Something along those lines was the last text to appear in the last episode of HK, implying a s2. We all know how that went.

#boueibu #new post bc i didn't put a readmore in the other one and it was getting too long #msorry #long post #speaking of the robihachi eng dub... sarazanmai has one too... #so many animes like those get dubs but not boueibu?! HOW UNFAIR #at least we got the funimation subs #is the game even canon?? #i mean with stuff like how everyone is apparently straight in there #even yumoto who pretty much came out as gay in the anime #that's very inconsistent #i mean. it is canon but maybe it's like an au? idk #also we need gakuran akoya to be real lmao #also no prequel with gora or hk s2. WHYYYY #i think this took me four hours

[ghostietea]

Furuba autistic headcanons

With it being April, or autism acceptance month, I wanted to finally drop my list of characters from Fruits Basket that I read as autistic! This is based a lot on my own experience, as well as that of other autistics I know or have seen talk online. I hope some people can get something out of it, feel free to tell me what you think 😊, though please refrain from getting upset that I would dare suggest your fave is autistic.

Hanajima

Before becoming able to better control her powers, she would be constantly overwhelmed by the things she heard to the point that she couldn't even really go out in public. This reads a lot like sensory overload.

Constantly picked on in school because other kids thought she was weird. Eventually reclaimed this weirdness and turned it into a whole persona.

Seems to talk usually in a relatively flat tone.

Had trouble socializing with no friends outside her family until middleschool.

Has a very funny, dry sense of humor that I find very similar to a bunch of autistics I know, including myself.

Hatsuharu

Listen. You have seen the funky little man, you have seen the way he talks, the way he acts around others. He is, and I mean this in the best way, a weirdo. I do not know how you could look at him and see a neurotypical.

Once again, like Hana, Haru is funny in a way that feels very autistic.

Very flat, dry, tone delivery. Sometimes just Says Things that make everyone else go huh??? Suuuuper blunt. Doesn't emote facially a lot of the time.

When this man sees a social norm he doesn't get he WILL NOT follow it. Pierces his ears just because his hair got flak, defends Momiji wearing whatever he wants because sometimes y'know the social rules are just dumb and don't make sense. Especially dress codes.

Sometimes says things not befitting the current tone of the situation.

Represses (masks) a lot of his emotions, leading to outbursts that seem uncharacteristic.

His main childhood trauma revolves around adults branding him as "dumb" and ridiculing him. Haru, however, is super smart and wise!! Just in an offbeat way that not everyone may get.

Machi

Reads as very "flat" emotionally to the point that others would call her boring. Also has a flat vocal delivery.

Relies on specific habits or ways of doing things or else she gets super upset (her hatred of imperfection.

Has trauma surrounding adults completely misconstruing her intentions and thinking she's doing something malicious when she's not.

Generally behaves in a way that's hard for others to understand, one of her formative moments with Yuki was him saying he wanted to "see how the world looks" through her eyes.

Once again, trouble socializing.

Tries super hard to please her parents but in the end they still see her as somehow inherently "defective."

Listen. A lot of this one and the last two are mostly vibes, hard to verbally define. You just have to look at them and trust me.

Tohru

Displays behavior very reminiscent of masking throughout the story, a huge part of her arc is about how she hides a lot of herself and has a very controlled persona. I think it would fit very well if she had other autistic behaviors that she suppresed also it helps explain why she is relatively socially adept, it's learned behavior to make people like her more.

Yes she is very good at saying what others need to hear, but especially early on she is pretty blatantly imitating her mother's words. She only gets better at getting through on a more personal level later on (see her with Rin and Akito v. early series Tohru). She does this by relating her own experiences, a very autistic way of showing empathy that often gets us written off as self centered. The way she relays things her mom said could also be seen as this, and she even worries at a few points that she's being insensitive for going on about things like that.

While emotionally repressed she is hyper empathetic and feels other's emotions so strongly she cries.

Her speech patterns are all imitated from her father and she often copies verbal things from others (see Ritchan-san). Noted in canon that people think her way of speaking is slightly off/not befitting of someone her age. Additionally, her father was polite more sarcastically, while she plays it straight and sometimes takes things very literally or fails to get the message, indicating trouble with reading tone. Has numerous strange verbal tics, including saying parts of her internal monologue out loud without context.

Very expressive with her hands including waving them around and flapping them up and down.

Does have a bit of trouble with accidental insensitivity in social interactions, like how she constantly fixates on her mom and realizes that might bug the Sohma.

Has trouble paying attention in school since it doesn't have much to do with her interests

Her only friend until she was a middle schooler was her mom

Has a pretty unique outlook on things compared to others, people seem to think she's pretty eccentric. There's always a "this girl is nice but in an odd way, she's our weirdo and we love her" vibe.

Sometimes has an "inappropriate" emotional response to situations

Has a lot of trouble with change, similar to Akito. Which oh, look at the time, next hc coming up.

But first, a disclaimer. It is cathartic for me to read Akito this way, but with that reading comes the baggage that she would, mayhaps, be showing a more negative side of things... It doesn't bother me since it's a joint hc with other characters and she does develop at the end but yeah, general villain hc baggage. This is in no way me trying to excuse her being The Worst being autistic doesn't absolve you of being able to do wrong . Also, a lot of these points can and do have other explanations related to her upbringing, but things can be for more than 1 reason. With that said, she really strongly comes off as autistic to me, in a way that's sorta hard to explain. I wrote a lot more for her than the other, both because I felt I needed more to convince people and that this headcanon was more sensitive and I needed to be careful in my explanation. Also hey! She's my special interest within a special interest.

Akito

Shown to have a dislike of summer weather due to heat and brightness, could be due to sensory issues in tandem with sickness things. Also covers her ears when people raise their voice sometimes which is partially her trying to shut down opposition but also 🤔 can read a different way. She'd also avoids louder Juuni like Ritsu and Ayame because she can't handle them.

Wears pretty much the same outfit every single day. Said outfit is also pretty loose fitting.

Always seen sitting in a pretty unconventional way. Evidence:

Of course this is also the isolated in a cult thing and there is a level of her purposefully doing things to intimidate but: doesn't follow a lot of social rules (overly touchy with strangers, legit doesn't get that what she's doing is wrong, ect.). Repeatedly confused when people indicate she should act otherwise without explanation. Has a breakdown when this comes to a head and approximately says that "they" shouldn't expect her to know "common sense" if "they" never explained it to her, that the way that she was was her "common sense."

Often talks in a way uncharacteristic of her age when shown as a child in a more faux mature/pretentious way. Might just be the translation and idk how to explain it but her speech as an adult also seems off from what one would normally use in conversation. Additionally, when she tries to fake being friendly in her intro chapter, it comes of as extremely stiff and unconvincing.

Generally displays behavior that could be thought of as childish as an adult, but a lot of this behavior could also read as autistic (covering ears, emotional deregulation and meltdowns, ignorance of basic social norms, ect.). It's also important to note that she knows that this behavior makes her seem younger and more helpless to the older zodiac and uses it as a manipulation tactic. Has issues regarding people treating her like a child or only hanging out with her because of pity. While she does weaponize it, we can tell that this grates on her, as seen with her finally blowing up on Kureno, which is partially triggered by the maids saying some sorta infantalizing stuff about her. Irl, a lot of autistic adults and teens struggle with being infantalized for our behavior generally or treated as little babies that can do no wrong. Even in fandom, you see people doing stuff like jumping to call autistic adult characters, such as Entrapta from Shera, "minor coded." It is also common for us to have at least one bad experience with someone hanging around us out of pity. This is something that really gave me a similar feeling in Akito's arc. She's not a baby and she can understand and do better if she is given the chance to learn and break from all the freaky cult indoctrination she's been subjected to instead of just being constantly enabled. In the end, a lot of her growth is represented by her showing that she is capable of changing and being independent.

Shows particular difficulty with socialization, often sits by herself spacing out at social events. A lot of her fear is rooted in the fact that she doesn't know how normal relationships work, becoming overly reliant on the curse because she doesn't know how to make friends.

Clings desperately onto the notion of being "special" and in some way superior to others to be worthy and to make up for perceived inherent "flaws." It's the nd gifted kid burnout vibes for me.

Easily bothered by things that don't bother others. Feels emotions very strongly to the point of getting physically ill and has bad emotional regulation.

Relatively good at reading others in an analytical sense (though has more trouble when it comes to seeing how they feel about her since she's wildly delusional) but brings up her observations in a very cold, detached way and hurts people even on the rare occasion she didn't mean to. Has extreme trouble connecting to others and understanding their point of view. This makes her come off as pretty unempathetic even though that might not fully be the case. Also thinks that people like Momiji are trying to look down on her when they try to empathize with her. A lot of why Tohru can get through to her is that she manages to convince Akito that she's not condescending by relating shared traits and experiences. As I said earlier, autistics often empathize by sharing their own experiences with someone, and I know I often have an easier time confiding in other autistics because of a fear of being seen as lesser by those that don't understand me. I think the connection between these charachters and the way that Tohru manages to reach Akito like that while others couldn't makes a lot of sense through an autistic lense!

Additionally, when Akito herself gets around to trying to help others instead of just projecting trauma, she tries to reach out to the old maid by relating back to her own experiences. This however, doesn't work.

Has "cold" emotional reactions sometimes even to things that do make her upset. For example, how sort of calm and detached she acted after her father's death can make her seem uncaring. However, we know that this event did mess her up a lot and she is still (poorly) dealing with a lot of grief from the death of her father years later.

Copies mannerisms from others, the most blatant example is with Ren, who she directly parrots lines from as a child to Yuki.

Partly just her posturing, but gestures a lot with her hands when she talks. Also seen several times clutching her hands in her hair.

Deals extremely poorly with the idea of things changing to the point that it is a driving force of the story.

Does not understand when people tease her.

Ect. Ect. Ect. Listen, I could go on for ages but just trust me, the mean gremlin lady is autistic.

#fruits basket #akito sohma #tohru honda #saki hanajima #machi kuragi #hatsuharu sohma #actually autistic #meta

[cherrytraveller]

designs for my fun lil undertale au of “what if the three routes manifest into their own person”. no concrete title yet. man, i need to come up with one. some notes under the cut!

all three of them use they/them & are aged between 15-17.

FRISK/PACIFY:

after some tragic and convoluted events (that kind of rip my heart out) they’ve gained Sans’ powers by absorbing a part of his dying SOUL which permanently changed their left eye into some sort of empty socket and activated iris. they use a medical eyepatch to cover it up and take it off when necessary.

the jacket was (of course) Sans’ one which they took as a memento – they’ve actually grown out of it but they refuse to stop wearing it. it looks a little worn but well loved. Gaster fixed most of the tears.

their hair mostly fits their original design apart from the messier strands

they possess only two gaster blasters whom they call their brothers and therefore are aptly named Sans & Papyrus with blue and orange eyes respectively

they can use the gravity magic inherited from Sans’ powers, but they only ever use it in battle when they get very, very violent (which means they are mad beyond reasoning)

they use sign language to communicate (the other two can see their dialogue box too) and only speak during battle, mostly to call upon their brothers

they are gentle at heart which is heavy with guilt – they look vaguely sad most of the time. Gaster always tries to cheer them up when they visit him

CHARA/NM:

ended up snatching some of Undyne’s SOUL allowing them to summon several red DETERMINATION knives in a fight

they are somewhat of an acrobat, very agile and flexible which makes their fighting style look like a very terrifying dance – however despite their violence, they are very graceful and regularly stretch to avoid damaging their muscle tissue

you might think they’re crude but because they were raised within royalty, they have a very refined speech which is kind of jarring in battle, however it can be incredibly intimidating

their clothes are mix of tight and loose to accentuate their acrobatic skills – they go barefoot 99% of the time

initially they were designed with a poncho but realizing that it would flop right over their face in a handstand it was changed to a loose shirt

since they are a weird mix of being revived and a part of the original Frisk’s SOUL before it was torn into three pieces, Chara can get a little goopy in the face, usually driven by certain emotions

their hair is uneven and playful to represent the inherent childishness of Chara – yes, they do cut it with their own knives

NEUTRA/N:

the personification of the Neutral Route, who appointed themself as the True Judge to bring justice for the other Fallen Children

they execute Asgore for slaying the children and take the 6 human SOULs together with Asgore’s trident

the SOULs usually circle around their wrists like bracelets and allow Neutra to tap into their respective abilities within a battle, making Neutra a very versatile fighter

their hair is a deliberate aesthetic choice on their part – justice is blind, which is why their fringe grows past their eyes

despite being a little brutal, they don’t go out of their way to start a fight unless attacked or if you are being Judged by them

their hood is supposed to help them look a little intimidating, very reminiscent of a grim reaper’s hood.

out of all three, Neutra is the one who looks the most intimidating (granted Chara doesn’t make their face all goopy)

they don’t talk very often but when they do it’s very blunt and to the point

#undertale #undertale au #undertale frisk #undertale chara #digital sketch #clip studio paint #character design #travellerdraws #i should like. write out the whole plot of the au #knowing damn well i'll never really write it into a full on story #but the idea wont leave me so suffer with me #they are like. kind of the same person? #but also. siblings against their will #well chara and neutra #frisk doesnt mind being their sibling #but the other two?? good lord

[jetaime-jespere]

I Was Enchanted To Meet You

This is a long time in the works, and a gift to my dear friend @cmhotchniss-blog, who sent me her idea of how Aaron and Emily met. Most of the ideas are hers, and I am forever grateful she let me connect some of the dots. 💓

"I’d like to think this is how we were supposed to meet. For a brief moment in time, that’s all. To steer one another in the right direction, if you will.”

One night for Aaron and Emily has a lasting impact on them both, twenty-four years later.

A mess of metal is what’s left behind on a dusky stretch of Route 66. Shattered glass sparkles like diamonds along the wet asphalt in the darkening sky as night meets the last moments of the day. Smoke curls and hisses around the mangled frame of the SUV, the stillness of the air a juxtaposition to the chaos that wraps around them - a slew of first responders, a few ominous rumbles of thunder, the mounting traffic on the other side of the highway. It’s a cacophony of sounds and sirens, shrill and relentless, that bring them all back to the reality that it can’t get much worse than this.

Read the rest below or on ao3!

There’s shouting - so much shouting - the frantic and panicked voices from the normally imperturbable team as one of their own is pulled from the passenger seat, limp and unresponsive. It only took seconds for things to go horribly wrong. Accidents were never supposed to happen, and yet here they were, helplessly surrounding a team of paramedics who were just a little too quiet in their intense focus, their faces stretched a little too thin, a little too grey, as they bent over Emily.

Her speech is slurred; her eyes flutter and blink weakly as they fight to keep her conscious and alert, rattling off blood pressure numbers with thinly veiled concern. They abruptly push JJ to the side, curtly demanding the need for more space to work, bark directions to the hospital, and start preparing to move her into the ambulance.

On the other side, a hand with a set of bitten down nails grapples for purchase at Dave’s shirt, fingers wrapping around the folds of expensive fabric to pull him closer in one last moment of semi lucidity. With a fading grasp Emily drags him down close enough to whisper something inaudible in his ear, words meant for only him to hear. The older man frowns, eyebrows furrowing with confusion as she falls unconscious, the last lick of light disappearing behind the trees.

____

“Dad, are you sleeping?”

Aaron’s eyes snap open a little too quickly, the bowl of popcorn nearly spilling into his lap when he jumps to attention. The voice, a familiar one, is insistent, as if it’s not the first time he’s said his name in the last few minutes. “No,” he says quickly and he’s not entirely sure who he’s reassuring. “No. I was just -”

“Let me guess,” Jack scoffs, taking a large handful from his own, much larger bowl of popcorn in his lap. “Just nodded off.”

“I’m paying attention,” Aaron attempts weakly as Jack laughs under his breath and shakes his head.

“I’ve heard that before.” His son reaches for the remote to rewind the last ten minutes of the scene he’d missed, still laughing. “This is what … the third week in a row?”  While he’s right, Jack doesn’t seem bothered. The years away have made him wise beyond his years, with a patience not often possessed by hormonal teenage boys who spend most of their time with a screen in their face. Aaron often thinks his son inherited the best of Haley - her patience, for starters. He resembles her too, and every now and then, looking at Jack is like looking into a window of the past. A past that could have been a fantasy, for now it seems like so far gone.

“Something like that,” Aaron mumbles. It’s true. In the four months they’ve lived in the quaint Philadelphia suburbs of Chester County, an idyllic place without the Main Line housing prices, adjustment has taken on a new meaning once again. Gone are the fake identities, the constant checking and double checking of doors and windows, the frequent looks over their shoulders, the unsettling notion that it might not end - that this might, unfairly, be their reality. He knows they’d go to the end of the earth to find Scratch - they’d done it before to find Foyet, then Doyle. They fought monsters before, but somehow, this was different.

There had been a finality in his decision to take Jack and go into Witsec. His final act to name Emily as Unit Chief was an easy one, and while it didn’t lessen the blow of the circumstances in which he and Jack left, in a flurry of panic, reminiscent of one his son experienced once before, it gave him a semblance of peace he wasn’t expecting. A little bit of reprieve, the ability to sever ties that may never be rebuilt, to no fault of their own. The cruel and unusual situation was one that they always risked with the nature of their work, one that was always a distant possibility.

In the quiet moments, he thinks of her. The what ifs and the whys. Everything between them that was said, and what never was. What he’s never told anyone is just how long he’s thought of her in one way or another, the one night they shared together, years ago, tucked neatly away in his mind to save for nights when he wondered just how things got to be this way.

“Come on, Dad,” Jack laughs. “At least try to make it through this movie. You said you wanted to see this one.”

With a hint of guilt as his obvious disinterest, Aaron sits up a bit straighter on the couch, grips the popcorn bowl in his hands, locking his eyes on the television. The plot of the movie is already lost on him, despite it being a topic of conversation for the last several days. “Just play the movie, Jack.” He stifles a yawn into his fist and valiantly attempts to focus his attention on the screen.

Aaron is dozing when he’s interrupted again; this time by his phone vibrating on the table. He doesn’t miss Jack’s eyes flickering over to the phone. “It’s just like old times,” he sighs. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

The name on the screen is the very last he expects to see at such an hour in the middle of the week. Aaron frowns, the phone cradled in his hands as the phone vibrates insistently. It’s the familiar push and pull of guilt he feels when his eyes shift between his son and the phone again, an unexpected window into a life he long left behind. The phone keeps ringing, immediately following the first unanswered call. Not a good sign, he thinks.

“Dad?”

“I need to take this, Jack,” Aaron says quickly. It’s late enough that this is anything but a casual phone call. The blanket is tossed aside and the popcorn already forgotten. He barely hears Jack’s half-hearted protest as the phone crackles static and then connects. The voice on the other end speaks first, his tone clouded with thinly veiled fear.

“Aaron.”

“Dave.” His tone is equally clipped, even and steady even as the phone is held tightly in his hand, waiting for whatever news is about to come.

“Aaron, you need to get to Prince William Medical Center as soon as you can.” It’s the urgency in Dave’s voice that unnerves him; it sets off every warning bell in his head. His normally unflappable, at times annoyingly rational friend sounds harried and exhausted, as if it’s already been the longest of nights, as if making this very phone call was a last resort. “It’s Emily.”

Emily .

The words reverberate through his head, the implications tear through his chest like a series of spears. He knew it wasn’t good, but he didn’t expect this. “What happened?” But years of experience and unbridled heartache have steeled his nerves, tested his resolve time and time again. He should be used to this by now - bad news that haunts those he loves. But the fear is like a vice, a cold stab that wraps itself around his mind and back again.

“There was an accident.” Dave begins. It’s been a few years since he’s seen him, but through the phone Aaron can see the lines on his forehead that have certainly deepened by now, perhaps a few have been added over time as the years add up.

“Accident? What kind of accident?”

He barely listens as Dave recounts the last few hours in excruciating detail. They were on a case - local - Reston - on their way back to Quantico. A poorly timed summer storm made visibility terrible, rendering driving nearly impossible. They were sideswept by another SUV, the impact sending them careening into the median on 66 just outside of Woodbridge. It sounds like anyone’s worst nightmare - airbags deployed, the windshield shattered upon impact, the entire hood a mangled mess of metal as the car careened to a stop, the threatening hiss of the engine.

But the totaled car was the very least of their problems.

“She’s in critical condition, Aaron,” Dave says carefully, as if it’s only part of the truth, as if somehow it’s even graver than this. “She’s unconscious.” It doesn’t sound good - her head hit the window on impact, the rest of Dave’s news confirms his worst fears - a likely head injury, the extent of which they don’t know.

It doesn’t make sense. It seems like some kind of sick, ill joke - a nightmare he’ll wake up from, only to find Jack having devoured both bowls of popcorn and the credits of the movie he never actually watched rolling. “What aren’t you telling me Dave?”

“I think you’d want to be here, Aaron. It … it could go either way at this point.” Dave’s voice is so heavy, something Aaron isn’t used to. His friend was typically the voice of reason, the one he went to for assurance when things seemed to be spiraling out of control - something he did many times over. And now the tables were turned to their side, a cruel twist of fate. It takes no convincing; he’s already reaching for his jacket on the hook by the door, grappling for an umbrella shoved unceremoniously in a closet somewhere closeby.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

…

“Mendoza is on his way.,” JJ says quietly as she rounds the corner with two cups of coffee in her hands. “ He just called me.”

“That might complicate things.” Dave wrings his hands and paces the tiny hallway. “Who told him?” He asks curiously. It hadn’t been long since Emily had shown up in his office one night, shoulders heavy as she relayed the news of their breakup. Dave is no stranger to the failures of love - having been thrice divorced himself. Sometimes timing was to blame, other times it was priorities. In their case it was commitment, or lack thereof, things fizzling out and hasty goodbyes, half-hearted assurances of keeping in touch, that one will call the other. Yet Dave isn’t exactly surprised to hear the news. Despite their challenges, Mendoza had been all but enamored with Emily, in awe of her at times. He wasn’t a stupid man; he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t follow him to Colorado. There was always something else that stood in her way. He just never knew exactly what.

“Word travels fast.”

“Aaron is on his way.” After a long pause, Dave scrapes a hand across his face, exhaustion bleeding through the cracks of age. “I just called him.”

JJ only nods and stares into Emily’s room with a pensive expression. “What do we tell them?”

“We tell them what we know. Hope for the best. That's all we can do.”

...

The storm takes the humidity with it, a soft chilly breeze spreading through the darkness. Aaron hurries through the hospital doors, charging past the triage nurse towards the elevators. He’s only vaguely aware of the other man that wedges himself past the doors just in the nick of time. He looks just as distracted as Aaron feels, eyes distant -worlds away - and lost in his own thoughts as he offers a quick smile, fists shoved in jacket pockets.

“What floor?” Aaron offers with a tight smile.

“The ICU.”

He nods and pushes just one button, indicating that they’re in fact going to the same place.

“I’m sorry.” The other man nods his head in solidarity, noticing the single illuminated circle on the panel, shuffles his feet, checks his watch and hangs his head. The phone in his pocket buzzes; he checks it with a resigned sigh. Aaron feels a touch of sympathy for him, wonders just what brings him there.

Except he doesn’t have to wonder much longer, because not only is Dave waiting when the doors open, but he clearly knows whoever Aaron just shared the elevator with. And judging by the way Dave’s eyebrows lift just enough at the sight of them both, practically side by side, something tells him there’s more to the story than just a simple coincidence.

“I see you’ve met?” Dave cocks his head to the side, scrubs his chin with his hand thoughtfully. “I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.”

“What the hell happened?” The man beside Aaron demands, a little more forcefully this time.

“So you haven’t met.”

“What the hell is going on, Dave?” Aaron snaps first, his patience starting to wane. The last three hours of travel have already started to catch up with him. It’s been years since he’s had to channel his feelings into something more stoic and taciturn. It doesn’t return as easily this time. He tells himself it’s because of age and time, yet the nagging voice in his head says it’s something else entirely.

“Andrew Mendoza, meet Aaron Hotchner. The former chief of the BAU. Hotch, this is Andrew Mendoza. Mendoza was the Special Agent in Charge of DC’s Field Office. He consulted with the BAU on a few local cases about a year ago.”

“Was?” Aaron questions, quickly putting together what Dave doesn’t tell him about Andrew Mendoza. There’s only one reason why he’d be there - a reason he didn’t anticipate. He has to swallow the bitter pang of regret that rises in his throat. It shouldn’t exist at all, but a familiar feeling that has lingered just within his reach whenever he thought of Emily. The chances they never took, the timing that seemed to elude them for one reason or another. Time. It had never been on their side.

“The Denver Field Office offered me a promotion last month. My daughter and I are moving out to Colorado in a few weeks.”

“Congratulations,” Aaron says stiffly as he offers his hand. It’s obvious why he’s here - the same reason Aaron is. “I’ve heard good things about Denver.” There’s something about the news that satisfies him.

“I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances.” Mendoza glances at Aaron, then Dave, then back at Aaron again. “But what the hell happened tonight?”

“JJ didn’t tell you?”

“Just that there was an accident.”

Dave presses his mouth into a thin line, relaying the story with such tact that Aaron knows it’s an abridged version, a slightly less terrible rendition of what happened back on the highway. “We were right outside of Woodbridge. On our way back from a case in Reston. Visibility was awful. It happened so fast. Emily must have hit her head on impact. She lost consciousness shortly after the ambulance arrived. They’re considering surgery to relieve the pressure in her brain.”

Dave pauses, letting the news sink in, taking a deep breath of his own to compose his frayed nerves. “There’s a chance of brain damage but they won’t know more until after she regains consciousness.” His gaze shifts between them both, gauging their reactions.

“When will that be?”

“There’s no easy way to tell. Could be hours after the surgery. Or days. She’s not breathing on her own. It’s going to be a while before we know anything.” He repeats the doctors’ words as calmly as he can. Dave’s typically unflappable demeanor is strained; the weariness laces through his voice.

“How did this happen?” It’s Mendoza who speaks up this time, clearly distraught and searching for words of his own. He almost looks embarrassed by his uncharacteristic show of emotion.

“It was an accident,” Dave repeats as calmly as he can, as if he’s practiced this speech in his head before giving it. “No one is to blame.”

The air seems to thicken around them, the reality setting in that while it’s already been a long night, it’s only just beginning.

“We’re here because of Emily. It’s a waiting game now, as long as it might be. May as well make yourselves comfortable. There’s a waiting room just down the hallway and a cafeteria on the sixth floor, if you want some coffee. It might eat a hole in your stomach, but it’s something.”

The room around him starts to spin. Aaron can’t remember the last conversation they had - something hasty by phone, he suspects, in the days of time differences and small talk. Never awkward, but something always lingering beneath the surface. Their conversations were all about what wasn’t said - subtext, layers of awareness only they possessed.

“One other thing,” Dave adds, as if on afterthought, a fleeting thought he nearly forgot, nothing more than a passing thought. “Before she lost consciousness, she was rambling incessantly about apple pie.” Dave adds, as if on afterthought, eyes narrowing in confusion. “The best apple pie in DC. Any idea what that could be about?”

Aaron stiffens, his jaw flexing at Dave’s seemingly innocuous mention in the midst of everything else. It’s been years since he’s last seen her and another fifteen since that night, one he’s never actually spoken of out loud. It could have been a lifetime ago, a distant memory. It feels so foreign at this point he could have dreamed it. Surely he misheard - there’s no way she’d be thinking of that. He pinches the bridge of his nose, stifles a yawn into his fist. It’s about to be a very long night. “Where is she? Is she in surgery yet?”

“Not yet. She’s just down the hall.” In the distance a monitor beeps then an alarm starts to go off, punctuated by the efficient scramble of nurses. It reminds him just how much he hates hospitals, and Aaron breathes a heavy sigh of relief when they don’t go into Emily’s room.

“You can see her, you know.” Dave offers gently, sensing the growing tension. “One visitor at a time.”

It’s somehow decided, without officially being decided out loud, that Aaron will go in first. Mendoza quietly mentions something about needing to call his daughter. Not for the first time this evening, Aaron is actually grateful Jack can hold his own at home for a little while, that they’re long past those years of constant check-ins. A simple text will do in a few hours’ time. And he steels his nerves with a few deep breaths before slipping into the room, the silence punctuated by the staccato beeping of monitors and a ventilator.

She’s like a ghost, translucent almost - amidst the machines and wires. He remembers a time, years ago, when the roles were reversed. Aaron wonders if she felt the same clench of fear in her gut, the awful feeling of helplessness that came along with being at someone’s bedside in a hospital. He wonders if she felt the same desperation clinging to every nerve in her body that things would be okay.

“Hey,” he says, sinking into the hard plastic chair at the side of the bed. “It’s been awhile.” Deep down he knows she won’t - can’t - respond. But there was a moment of hope - a tiny one - flimsy and built on nothing - that maybe she would move or something to indicate she heard him. There isn’t one.

Aaron swallows the rising lump in this throat, thick and pressing right down into his lungs. “I really need you to wake up, Emily.”

...

“When’s the big move?” Dave presses Mendoza gently, asking all the questions Emily never gave answers to. He folds his arms across his chest, unable to tear his gaze from the scene before him. From his place behind the window, he watches Aaron lower himself onto a chair on shaky legs, taking a few steadying breaths as he settles beside her. He rests a weary head on his fist.

“Two weeks. Keely wanted to finish her soccer season.” Mendoza crosses his arms over his chest as his eyes follow Dave’s.

Dave nods without really comprehending the words. “You’ll have to let us know when you’re both settled out there.”

“Yeah.”

Dave breaks an awkward silence. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t.” By now, Mendoza’s full attention is on the scene before them both, face solemn and stiff. “What’s the story between them?” His eyes narrow ever so slightly, shades of suspicion cloud his features and his shoulders tense. Years of profiling make Dave keenly aware of these subtle changes in his behavior. He’s questioning it .

Dave shrugs. “Friends? Colleagues?” By now, Aaron is brushing Emily’s arm with his thumb, and if he isn’t mistaken, swears he sees his lips moving too. “Anything else and your guess is as good as mine.”

It seems to smooth things over for a few moments, even as something else is planted in his mind. Something he never considered at all.

…

“Have you been to Boathouse Row yet?”

It’s an attempt to make small talk as they sit down; it doesn’t get past Aaron, who stays silent, completely ignoring the question.

“So what is it you’re not telling me?” Dave passes a flimsy styrofoam cup over the small table.

“Now might not be the best time, Dave,” Aaron retorts, rolling a tiny cup of creamer in his fingers.

“We’ve got nothing but time, Aaron. Surgeon says things could take hours. She might even be conscious immediately after. And you’re not driving back to Philly anytime soon.”

He has a point . “She was talking about when we first met.” He sighs heavily as he spins the cup around in his hands. “It was a long time ago.”

“At the BAU?” Dave knits his eyebrows in confusion.

Aaron rubs his eyes tiredly. By now any movement feels like effort, the space behind his eyes starting to throb with an oncoming headache and exhaustion. “Before that.”

“You mean you knew - “ Dave stops, his coffee ignored and interest piqued. “You two knew each other before?”

“We met years ago. Would be at least twenty now.” He’s too tired to do the math of exactly how long it’s been. “We met when I was working for her mother one summer in DC.”

“I certainly had no idea.”

“No one did. It never really came up.”

“By choice or on purpose?” Dave quips, his eyes just a touch brighter than they were moments before. He chuckles when Aaron just stares right back, the hint of a smile hidden in his eyes. “So what’s the story?”

His expression is wistful, as if he were dusting off a long held memory. “It was kind of an accident.”

__

Twenty-Four Years Ago

DC

Not for the first time that evening, Aaron checks his watch discreetly and sighs into his fist. It’s only eight-thirty; who knows how long this thing will last. It wasn’t that he agreed to this. It’s practically a rite of passage when working for an Ambassador, or so he’s been told -working one of the many extravagant parties and benefit dinners that were practically part of her job description. The ballroom is full of DC’s political elite - congressmen and senators, the Secretary of State and the Attorney General. Rumor had it the Vice President would be making an appearance. For that reason alone, security was heightened, every egress monitored, yet he’s never felt more invisible in a room full of people.

Aaron spots her accidentally, but something tells him she’s not trying to blend in. The tall figure on the opposite side of the room is entirely too young to be one of them , yet she mingles easily with a champagne flute between her fingers. She’s wearing an elegant black dress with a high neck and open back. It shows off delicate shoulder blades that jut out like wings when she moves. He isn’t the only one staring.

She’s the Ambassador’s daughter - Emily . Aaron has only heard of her from the others, her name being uttered in exasperation when one of the agents finds her breaking protocol yet again - sneaking out and in at all hours of the night, slipping an endless parade of friends past the entrance logs without proper verification. He’s never spoken a word to her; he knows almost nothing about her except that she’s a student at Yale, supposedly speaks multiple languages, and has a knack for causing trouble.

They haven’t spoken a word to each other, but her eyes meet his across the square in the middle of the room that is supposedly a dance floor. His mouth goes dry and he immediately looks away when Emily excuses herself from whatever conversation she’s immersed in, only to look back seconds later to find her sauntering directly towards him , effortlessly maneuvering through the crowd.

Aaron nods a polite hello, attempting to keep his expression neutral when she’s finally closed the gap between them both.

“You know,” Emily says with amusement, eyes flicking over him. “You could at least try not to look so miserable.”

“Who said anything about being miserable?”

“It’s practically part of the job requirements if you work for my mother. Besides, you’ve been wearing the same expression since this thing started.” When she catches his look of sheer bewilderment and mild annoyance, she laughs softly. “Trust me. I’ve been to enough of these things to know what I’m looking for.”

“Are you spying on me?” He glances around, wondering just where the Ambassador even is amidst a sea of black suits. He should be keeping a close eye, after all. He strains his neck a little, scanning the crowd purposefully until he sees the woman that strongly resembles the miniature version of her in front of him.

“No. I’m just observant.” Without missing a beat, Emily waves to someone - a Congressman Aaron immediately recognizes from the news - something about a scandal involving a rather young intern under a desk - but he hadn’t been paying too much attention to remember all the details. “He’s such a scumbag,” she adds quietly without any elaboration.

He senses her reticence immediately; he wonders just how she knows all of this, if he should push, if at all “Isn’t that part of their job description to a degree?”

“Some of them,” Emily mutters. “But he’s one of the worst.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aaron murmurs, tearing his eyes away from the crowd to get a better look at her. Up close she’s even more stunning, with sharp cheekbones and a perfectly symmetrical face, her smile wide and eyes like dark orbs. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“I’ve seen you around. You’re the new guy.”

“New-ish. I started in March.” It comes out a bit more dejectedly than it should, but it’s hard to hide the disdain he feels for it all. Things have been far from easy over the last few months. It’s a mindless shuffle of one foot in front of the other, days that blend together similar to the ones before, with the slightest hope that a few more weeks of patience might wield a change.

“New to me.” She’s only been home for the summer a few weeks at most, so he can count on one hand the number of times he’s actually seen her. “So what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“You stick out like a sore thumb.” She cracks a grin at her own remark. “You’re too tense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Agent …”

“Hotchner,” he fills in quickly.

“Agent Hotchner, you certainly wouldn’t be the first security detail to use this as a stepping stone to a different career. You’re all just biding time until something better comes along.” She’s so matter of fact, so assured, it’s as if she’s had this very conversation with every other agent in the room at one point or another. “It’s usually the quiet ones. They have less to prove.”

“Are we that transparent?”

“Some of you. And I can’t say I blame you. This place surely isn’t a means to an end.”

“What does your mother think of your beliefs?”

“My mother knows exactly what I think of her career and everything that goes along with it. It’s what’s gotten us to this point, actually.”

“And what point might that be?” He’s only heard of some of the epic arguments between the two of them, the harshness of their voices reverberating around the Ambassador’s office or some ornately decorated living room. The bitter clashes of two strong wills, hidden behind the fact that just maybe they were more similar than different.

“A story for a different time,” Emily says smoothly. “Can’t exactly talk about it here.”

“You’re full of stories, aren’t you?” Aaron deduces but she isn’t even paying attention anymore as she scans the crowd. He can see the wheels start to turn in her head, the flicker of an idea materializing somewhere. She turns back, this time a grin stuck to her lips. “What?” He asks reluctantly.

“Let’s get out of here.” Emily bats her thickly lashed, heavily lined eyes. “This thing is going nowhere fast. Besides, you look like you could use a break. “How long have you been on?”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere,” she says casually with a wink as she plucks a champagne flute from a nearby tray, downing it quickly. “I probably shouldn’t drive, but you can.” It’s accompanied with a flippant toss of hair over her shoulder, an expectant purse of her lips.

It’s certainly not the smartest idea or the most prudent, but something tells him Emily could care less about prudence and image. “I could be suspended for unauthorized use of a government-issued vehicle.” Not to mention, having his boss’s daughter in said government vehicle with him, or completely leaving his assignment altogether. He remembers skimming over the terms of employment months ago, specifically the section about fraternization with members of the Ambassador’s Family.

“Who said anything about one of theirs?” She looks almost bored now, tapping her fingers against the empty flute. “That’s no fun anyway. They have trackers on them. For security purposes.” She forms air quotes with her fingers. “We wouldn’t get far.”

He’s about to ask her how she even possesses that knowledge when he feels her hand on his waist, dipping into the creases of his jacket like a lover would. It doesn’t phase her, and while normally his reflexes would spring into quick action, he’s glued into place.

“You have a car don’t you?” Emily unabashedly pats his pocket, feeling for keys.

He opens his mouth to object, but she’s too fast. She grins with satisfied smirk, a triumphant click of her tongue as he stiffens awkwardly when they jingle against her hand. “You aren’t a great liar, Agent Hotchner.”

“Aaron,” he says somewhat stiffly, resignedly. He’s doing his damn best to keep his eyes centered on the ballroom but it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate on the task at hand. The scent of perfume - something undoubtedly expensive - lingers and it makes him dizzy even if he hasn’t had a sip to drink. “And I didn’t lie.”

“Aaron.” His name rolls off her tongue thoughtfully. “Aaron,” she repeats, as if it’s the first time she’s ever heard it. “I never understood why there were two A’s. What do you do with the second one?”

His head spins to keep up with her, how her mind somehow bounces from one thought to the next with seemingly little direction. “Never gave it much thought myself, actually.” From the corner of his eye he catches one of the other agents giving him a quizzical, perhaps slightly jealous, eye roll. It’s a bad idea to entertain, but one he can’t ignore. Emily is staring at him, eyes sparkling, with the slightest touch of longing. Longing for what he isn’t sure, but whatever it is, it wouldn’t be found in the middle of the opulent ballroom.“What do you have in mind?”

“I’ve been told of a place not too far from here,” she begins slowly, a smile on her face at his gradual acquiesce. “A diner that supposedly has the best apple pie in DC.”

“Apple pie?” Just how much has she had to drink?

“I’m starving ,” she offers with a hand pressed to her flat stomach. Aaron’s eyes follow, lingering up and down on her narrow frame.

“They’re about to serve dinner,” He says lamely, shaking his head to ensure he heard her correctly. Waiters have started to circle the room with large serving trays balanced precariously above their heads, passing around the plates that he guesses must cost a few hundred dollars a head, maybe more. The crowds have thinned as more guests take their seats.

Emily shrugs with disinterest. “Once you’ve been to one of these things you’ve been to them all. Besides, this is when things start to get really insufferable.”

“Is that so?”

“Someone will start talking,” Emily drawls sardonically, surveying the crowd starting to take their seats at previously assigned tables - tables he could probably rattle off by name if asked. “Make some big speech promoting their campaign trying to get reelected or whatever. Then they all will. They love hearing themselves talk.”

“Part of the job, I guess.” He stares, unsure of what to say next. Her attitude towards politics is the complete opposite of that of her mother. His interactions with his boss have been somewhat limited; he doubts if she even remembers his first name. Yet he’s seen the way Elizabeth Prentiss revels in a world seemingly dominated by men, a woman in a league of her own. He wonders just how much the Ambassador has sacrificed; wonders if her daughter might be amongst that list. It would certainly explain their tenuous relationship.

“So what do you say? Surely you don’t want to sit around listening to a bunch of old guys spout a bunch of half truths to line their pockets?” She seems unbothered yet again, almost amused by the sight in front of her - as if her premonition of how the night would go is coming true.

There’s nothing he wants less. “How do you suppose I get out of this? I’m still on the clock, you know.”

“I’ll leave that up to you.” Emily sets the champagne flute on a nearby serving tray and spins on her heel, sauntering back towards the center of the ballroom. “I’ll be outside of the South Gate when you figure it out.”

…

In the end, he makes up an excuse to leave. It’s not exactly convincing and the agent in charge doesn’t exactly believe him when he feigns an emergency - food poisoning. But Aaron has always had an exceptionally good poker face, grimacing just enough to make it look questionable, and the other agent curtly nods, grunting something about having enough security for the evening, and making up the hours later in the week. It falls on deaf ears - he’s already out the doors of the security office, a small grin playing at the corners of his lips as he strides across the asphalt driveways with his back toward the house.

Sure enough, Emily is waiting for him, finishing the rest of a cigarette when he pulls around to the South Gate. He keeps his taillights off; the less attention he draws to himself the better.

His car has seen better days, the leather seats worn smooth and the stereo outdated, the steering wheel permanently indented from the grip of his own two hands, scuff marks and faded carpets. But it’s well maintained, and Emily smiles appreciatively when he holds the passenger side door open, then explains how to adjust the seat, just in case . She doesn’t seem to notice at all, just unceremoniously tugs her long skirt out of the way of the door and kicks off her heels.

“Fucking things,” she grumbles. The heels are sharp as knives, ridiculously impractical yet Aaron can’t help but picture her wearing them in a dress much shorter than the one she currently has on. He shakes his head, reminding himself not to go there, because the reality is, she’s still his boss’s daughter, and if anyone were to see them, he’d most definitely be written up, maybe worse, for taking her off property without following protocol. But she’s close enough to touch, her arm a gentle weight against his own on the center console.

“So,” Aaron asks, his voice barely audible. He shifts the car into reverse, breath hitching when his knuckles brush against her hand. “Just where is this diner you speak so highly of?”

“Silver Spring.”

“I thought you said DC.”

“It’s close enough.” Emily tucks a long piece of hair behind her ear with a roll of her eyes. “Just trust me.”

It’s the way she says it that makes him wonder if she would do the same for him. Aaron grips the wheel in silence as the cool night air seeps through the open windows. He catches her shiver and is about to offer his jacket when she breaks the silence.

“Make a right up at the light, and then it’s a quick left.” Emily shifts in the passenger seat. Her fingers twitch as if she were still holding a cigarette between them; she tucks her hand against her cheek daintily. She’s very much aware the passenger side is nearly spotless - nothing to indicate someone sits there frequently. No wayward sunglasses or a forgotten piece of jewelry belonging to a significant other. She straightens the wrinkled fabric of her dress and lowers her eyes.She’d had him pegged wrong - certainly he’d had it all figured out, the well intended nature that comes along with a mostly idyllic existence. She imagined a naive wife or girlfriend completely enamored with him, both parties working to make ends meet for bigger and better things - not happiness, for one. That they had in spades. But maybe a white picket fence, a dog and a baby or two one day.

Instead, he seems lonely and guarded, a choice he was forced to make. Circumstances, maybe, she thinks as the traffic light ahead blinks from a glowing green to yellow, to red. It shines a little brighter than usual, a universal warning everyone should understand . It makes her shiver again.

“Here. Take my jacket” The red light gives him the chance to shrug out of the confines of his suit jacket, which he hands over. He palms the wheel a little tighter when she wraps herself into it, the fabric draping over her like a shield.

“This is the place?” Aaron studies the gaudy exterior of the diner, hard to miss and yet, the type of place you wouldn’t give a second thought. The fluorescent lighting nearly blinds him, and he’s somewhat surprised to see through the windows that multiple tables are full despite the late hour. He can hardly conceal his disbelief. “How’d you learn about this place?”

“Word gets around,” Emily says lightly as she slips her shoes back on, wincing slightly when she stands upright, nearly enveloped by his jacket. “I���ve learned not to judge a book by its cover. Maybe you should do the same.”

They find a booth in the back, tucked away from the clamor of the bustling kitchen and constant jingle of the doors. Again they’re left with nothing but silence, a few wayward glances, and two plastic coated menus between them. The haggard waitress only nods abruptly at their order - two black coffees, one with splenda and one without, one slice of apple pie, and two forks.

“You think she thinks we’re a couple?”

“I’m sure she has a lot more on her mind than us.” Aaron twists the paper straw wrapper between his fingers and studies her across the table. What he’s not expecting is to realize she’s doing the same thing - analyzing his body language with a degree of precision that matches his own, an expression that hides what she’s thinking. He wonders if she’s practiced it over time. She wears his jacket like a coat of armor yet she’s curious, the mundane quietness of the diner a stark contrast to their initial surroundings a short time ago.

“How does someone like you end up working for my mother?” Emily asks out of nowhere, direct and forward without an ounce of hesitation. It could be mistaken for an interrogation, he muses.

“Someone like me?”

“Decent. With manners. Not some macho guy with a little man complex or some baggage like that who gets off swinging his gun around.” She blows the straw wrapper across the table; it hits him square in the shoulder and stays here until he flicks it off. She doesn’t seem to notice as the waitress sets down their much anticipated order amidst a promise to come back with some cream for the coffee.

It’s his turn to laugh; he knows exactly what type she’s referring to. He could name more of them than he has fingers. “Trust me, it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.”

Emily carves out a large bite of apple pie with her fork, eyes closing with delight as it disappears between her lips, along with a delicate moan. “This is so good.” She pushes the pie plate towards him. “So then what was it?”

“Bad timing, for starters.” Aaron stabs his fork into the jagged slice of pie, cuts off a bite for himself. His stomach growls; it’s been hours since the early dinner he’d scarfed down behind the wheel on his way back to work the shift he just abandoned. “You’re right,” he says around a mouthful of apple and pastry crust. “That’s really good.”

“Told you.” She proudly lifts her shoulders, momentarily triumphant before she digs in for another bite. But she also looks expectant, ready for an answer, even with another forkful of pie. He supposes he owes her one.

“I wanted to join the FBI,” Aaron begins slowly. It comes to him that she’s only the second person he’s ever told any of this to. He supposed talking about it would make it real, take it from a pipe dream to something that could irrevocably fail right in front of his own eyes.

“The big leagues, huh?” She waves her fork in a circle, and it takes a moment for him to realize she isn’t totally shocked. “I could see that, actually, now that you mention it. You have the poker face for it, at least.” Emily gives a little grin, one that meets her eyes. “But that didn’t happen?”

“Had the application filled out and everything. Was going to send it in.”

“So what happened?”

“My girlfriend … She didn’t like the idea. The recruitment process takes months and basic training even longer. Close to a year sometimes. Haley wanted me to do something a little more traditional. Wanted me home at 6 for dinner and around on the weekends.” He takes another bite of pie, partially to gather his thoughts, and to let Emily give her own.

“Girlfriend, huh?”

“Well.” The fork in his hand feels heavy all of a sudden; he sets it down with a clatter. “We’re taking a break right now.”

She takes in his words, chuckles a little bit. “I’m a little disappointed in myself. I definitely had you all wrong.”

“You keep saying that.” It’s more of a question than a statement, a curiosity he can’t contain.

“I took you as settled. Happy. With Haley. ” His girlfriend’s name rolls off her tongue; hearing it sounds strange, like she’s saying something she shouldn’t.

“I’m ... figuring things out. We’re figuring things out.”

“Do you love her? Does she love you?” Emily asks directly without hesitation. “If you do, there shouldn’t be much to figure out.”

He stiffens. “I don’t … not love her. But we want different things. At some point, you have to be honest with each other, right? When you can’t make it work, what do you do?”

“I’m definitely not the person to ask.” She laughs but there isn’t any humor in it, more of a resigned sadness if he looks close enough through the rough edges hidden by carefully curated appearance. “Relationships aren’t something I’ve had a ton of luck with.”

“Maybe you’re dating the wrong people.”

“Maybe.” She looks around the diner, rests her chin in her hands. “I’m pretty directionless myself at the moment, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t, but thank you.” He takes a sip of coffee, more for something to do with his hands than a need for it. He wants to know more, wants to ask just what could possibly make her directionless. Someone who seemingly had it all.

“Sounds like we’re both lost.” There’s a dreamlike tone to her voice, as if they’re sharing a secret.

“We don’t have to be.”

“If I keep going at this rate, I’ll be a bored socialite by 30 throwing cocktail parties every night and getting drunk by the pool by day.”

“Who says?”

“No one has to say it. It’s … expected of me, I think?”

“Is that so?”

“I’m certainly not following in my mother’s footsteps into politics.” She scoffs. There’s contempt in her voice, for what he deduces is years of being put second, something she never asked for but received over and over again. “What else is there for me to do? Someone has to carry on the family tradition somehow.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Emily says, dragging her fork through some of the remaining bits of pie on the plate. She flicks a crumb into the air.  “I’ve never really had a home , you know. Most of my life has been spent overseas. Just staying in one place for a while would be nice.”

“I always wanted to get away.” Aaron laments. “From Manassas at least.”

“Well, that’s understandable. You aren’t missing much there, or so I’ve heard.” She stirs a spoon into her coffee to work in the mess of splenda packets she’s dumped in.

He watches the liquid swirl, her mezmirzation at it. Something comes to him - something he’s always wanted to know. “Is it true you speak four languages?”

Emily looks up from her coffee, temporarily distracted by his question. “Six, actually. French, Italian, Spanish, Arabic, Greek, and some Russian.” She ticks them off on her fingers nonchalantly as if she were counting inanimate objects.

He does a double take. “Six? I can barely handle English.”

“It’s always been easy for me. I just wish I knew what to do with it, you know?”

“When I applied, I remember seeing that the FBI needs linguists. People with language experience to work overseas.” He takes his own fork to the last remaining bits of the pie, watching her face carefully for a reaction. She’s almost unreadable; he can’t discern just what she’s thinking.

She laughs - not the reaction he expected. “You know, applying for the FBI would absolutely piss my mother off entirely. She would hate it if I did that. Kind of makes me want to do it.”

“She and Haley should meet. I’m sure they’d have lots to talk about.”

“You want to hear what I think?” Emily says after a few long moments, the coffee and the pie that once sat between them are now gone. “I think you should go for it. The FBI. Do it and don’t look back. And call your girlfriend. Let her talk, but tell her how you feel.”

“And?”

“If she comes back, then you know it’s meant to be.”

...

“Never even knew this place existed,” Aaron says, lingering at Emily’s elbow as they pick their way across the pebbled driveway of the diner. She’s a little unsteady on the heels now, not unsurprising given the late hour and the time they spent sitting down.

“Who knew a diner in the middle of Silver Spring Maryland would have such great pie?” Dangling from her wrist is a to-go bag with an extra slice of pie for the morning - the waitress had kindly given her one on the house - the leftovers from the day before.

“I thought New Jersey was the diner capital of the world,” Aaron muses. “New Jersey is all about their diners and traffic circles.”

“And Bruce Springsteen,” Emily adds pointedly. “He’s from New Jersey.”

“Him too.” Aaron laughs quietly. The tension in his shoulders mounts; he doesn’t want this to end. He wants to talk to her, wants to keep her there. But the moment feels final. Emily catches the wrist of the hand that reaches out to cup her cheek, wraps her fingers around it. “If things were different -” he starts quietly, looking almost embarrassed.

“I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to go, is it?” Emily leans into the weight of his calloused palm, into the touch of a man that isn’t her own. It feels foreign, like she’s taking something that isn’t hers. “I don’t think that’s in our cards, Aaron. Maybe in a different life.”

The ride back to DC is again silent, save for the crinkling of the paper bag in her lap. Aaron skips the main entrance and the long paved driveway, taking a shortcut around the massive property to the South Gate entrance. Emily side eyes him, looking slightly impressed. “Trying to remain inconspicuous?”

“I think that’s for the best.”

“I’d like to think this is how we were supposed to meet,” she offers as he pulls up to the outside of the South Gate. “For a brief moment in time, that’s all. To steer one another in the right direction, if you will.”

“Maybe.” He tells himself to pull away, curling it back around the steering wheel protectively. “Remember what I told you, Emily.” He watches her reach for her shoes, their moments together dwindling down to seconds. “Don’t live your life on the terms of someone else. Especially your mother. If our paths cross again and you’re a bored socialite throwing cocktail parties, we’ll have to talk.”

She loops some hair behind her ear, gives him a small smile. “If our paths cross again in ten years and you aren’t leading some FBI unit somewhere, I’ll have some words for you as well.” She draws a breath, carefully slips on her shoes. “Thank you for the pie, Aaron.” The creak of the passenger side door is the only thing he hears as she slips away like a ship in the night, not to turn back around.

Aaron watches her disappear across the grass, blending into the deep blue of the early morning, the sky not quite awake but out of the depths of night. She’s a shadowy dark figure amidst the promise of a new day. The clock on the dashboard nears 6:00 AM. The little red numbers glow are a reminder of the inevitable crash that will most definitely come later on. He isn’t 20 anymore, after all. But when he drives away, there’s a sense of renewal, one he can’t explain, but deep down understands.

He hands in his resignation before he can work another shift, and he never does make up the time he promised. Three days after that, he mails a thick packet of papers in a standard manila envelope to the FBI Headquarters in Quantico.

A week after that, he takes out his phone and dials Haley’s number. About thirteen years later, his son comes into the world, wailing and screaming with healthy lungs and a head of dark hair. Haley is tired and beaming, his pride is obvious as the tiny bundle is placed in his arms.

They name the baby Jack.

In some ways, the stars aligned.

He’ll sometimes wonder if Emily’s did too.

…

Present Day

“Why didn’t things ever work out between the two of you?”

Dave’s voice brings him back to reality, out of the daydream he’s held so close to his heart for so many years. It’s jarring at first, a confusing limbo of then and now, past and present blending together for a few long moments. He glances around, the harsh overhead lights glaring bright, the low hum of hospital sounds reverberating through his ears. Along with it comes the reality of why he’s there, and the bitter rush of fear that floods his consciousness.

“Timing.” Aaron spins his now empty coffee cup in his hands. “Even after Haley and I got divorced, it was never the right time.”

“You’re going to blame timing ? That’s the oldest trick in the book.”

“I never wanted to take the risk.” It’s the closest thing he can think of as truth. They built a tentative friendship after a rocky start, something built on mutual respect. His divorce brought new challenges - co parenting amidst a ridiculously stressful career, supporting and leading his team. Emily had always been one to hold her own, a silent backbone of their team, a friend to all of them. He’d relied on her, never wanted to lose what they had in hopes of something else . Ian Doyle had taken her from them all; her return was tense and it didn’t take a profiler to understand that Quantico just wasn’t home to her anymore. He let her walk away, encompassed by a fragile shell of his own tentative happiness, and in the years after she went to London, there was a permanent hole in his heart that never quite mended itself again. “Maybe I should have.”

“Love is a choice, Aaron. It doesn’t just happen. You have to choose to make things work.” Dave leans back in his seat, checks his watch, an eyebrow arching just a bit. “I thought you would have known that by now.”

“You and Krystall made a choice?”

“We still do. Every day we have to choose to love each other. Some days it’s easy. Others, not so much. But you know the best part?”

“I think you’re going to tell me anyway, Dave.”

“It’s never not been worth it, Aaron.” There’s a subtle gleam in his eye that wasn’t there before. “Something tells me you might just feel the same, if you gave it a chance.” Dave fumbles for his phone, patting the pockets of his jeans and then that of his blazer before finally pulling the phone from his breast pocket. He flips it open, his eyes widening at whatever message lights up the tiny screen.

“What is it?” Aaron asks with baited breath.

Dave looks up from his phone. For the first time since all of this began, he looks full of hope. “Emily’s out of surgery.”

…

The surgeon is pleased with the outcome of Emily’s procedure, and the air around them seemingly lightens with each minute he explains the procedure, and its success. The three of them hang on every word he says, asking questions and seeking assurances.

“She should be awake within a few hours. We’ll know more then, but her brain activity is good, and her vitals are strong. Agent Prentiss got very lucky. I have patients who often have a very different outcome.”

The relief is palpable, as if the tension was cut with a knife as they all exchange optimistic smiles and tentative handshakes, while profusely thanking Emily’s surgeon. Aaron excuses himself to call Jack - something he should have done hours ago. “I’m not going far,” he reminds Dave, his words a warning of what to do if anything changes in the next few minutes.

“We’ll be right here.”

Mendoza is shrugging into his jacket and digging for his keys with a look of resignation on his face. He catches Dave’s sideways glance. “I think it’s time I head out, Dave. Please give Emily my best wishes on a quick recovery when she’s discharged.” There’s a change in his voice, one that wasn’t there earlier.

“You’re leaving?” Dave asks curiously. “You aren’t going to stay and see Emily? It shouldn’t be much longer before we can go in.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

Mendoza shakes his head, runs a hand over his scalp. “I learned something tonight. You know when it’s just not meant to be, but you can’t find the reason why?”

Dave nods, a glimmer of understanding appearing in his eyes. “I do. I know it very well, actually.”

“I think I found the why.” His eyes roam around before they finally land on Aaron and Dave’s do too. The phone is still pressed to his ear but he’s still staring right into Emily’s room, never once looking away, even as his mouth moves in conversation to Jack on the other end. “I tried to deny it, so did Emily. But I don’t think her heart ever belonged to me. I think it belonged to him.”

—

Emily finally wakes up a few hours later. Aaron and Dave wait outside the room as she’s tended to by a horde of surgeons and nurses, testing brain function and vital signs, spattering off medical terms with ease. It’s a language only they understand, one Aaron never wants to learn. But their voices are hopeful, they have smiles on their faces as they talk to Emily, assessing her cognition and running tests. She’s a little confused and extremely tired, but awake and alert . Dave is just as relieved to see things appear normal; they’re both very aware of just how lucky they got.

Eventually, they’re finally allowed to see her.

“Do you mind if I … “ Aaron trails off, except he doesn’t need to finish the question.

“Go, Aaron. I take it you have some things you want to get off your chest,” Dave quips. “I’m going to call the others and give them an update. They’ve been waiting awhile.” He departs with a pat of encouragement on the back, a shared moment between them.

Moments later, he’s back in her room, at her side on the same uncomfortable chair from earlier. Her eyes flicker open once again, widening almost impossibly when she sees him. Years of unanswered questions are written on her face in seconds, a shared history fraught with more than what most people experience in a lifetime. But there’s something oddly content there too, as if she woke up from a dream that has somehow materialized in front of her.

“Hey,” Aaron says softly, reaching out with a nervous hand to touch her for the first time in years . He dodges wires and IV lines, finds her fingers with his own and gives a gentle squeeze. “You’re up.”

“You’re here?” Emily blinks with confusion, still making sense of just how she got there in the first place. “But I thought you were .. you and Jack are in Philadelphia. What are you doing here?”

“Of course I’m here,” he says soothingly, ignoring her question. They can talk about that later. “How are you feeling?”

Emily gives a wry grin, slightly distorted and weak, but there. “They asked me who the President of the United States was.”

It’s his turn to smirk. “What did you tell them?”

“To ask me after 45 leaves the Oval Office,” she says without hesitation. “I think I made at least two of them laugh.” But then something comes over her face, the reality of it all setting in. “You came all this way,” she croaks, throat raw from the intubation tube. “How did you know about all of this?”

“You were there for me, remember?” He’s not only talking about Foyet, but all the years she spent at his side. The years they spent doing a dance around one another,  their steps never quite aligning. This time feels like a second chance he never thought he’d get, one he can’t mess up.

“That was a lifetime ago, Aaron. So much has happened since then.” Emily tries to sit upright, pushes herself up about halfway before exhaustion overtakes her. She grumbles in frustration; he shouldn’t smile but he does. It means the Emily he knows, the Emily he fell in love with years ago is somewhere in there.

“Take it easy,” he soothes, adjusting the pillows so she’s more vertical than horizontal. He uses the opportunity to press a kiss against her forehead. He touches his own to hers and murmurs, “That’s something I should have done a long time ago.”

A smile spreads across her face, just as brilliant as the night he met her. She remembers it all, just as well as he does. “Funny how it always seems to take one of us dying to figure things out.”

“What are you talking about?” It’s a morbid thought, one he can’t entertain for long because despite his question, there’s an element of truth to it. He brushes some hair from her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. It’s matted in his fingers and dirty yet he doesn’t even notice. His heart swells, the hand in her hair trails down to her cheek, a thumb against the blush that spreads there. “And by the way, that’s not funny.”

“I’m saying maybe after I get out of this place,” she gestures to the mess of monitors and wires and tubes, “You can ask me out on a date. Finally.”

“Anywhere,” Aaron agrees. He would go anywhere, if it meant he could be with her.

“I know a place in Silver Spring. Supposedly they have the best apple pie in DC.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #young hotchniss #Aaron Hotchner #Emily Prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #Aaron x Emily

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Leave a Light On

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Family!Rosie Holland x Family!Harry Holland (idk really how to do pairings because most characters have interactions with everyone)

-Warnings: Hospital scenes, sadness, blood, typos

-Words: 4.1K

-Key:

Y/M/N = your middle name

Y/L/N = your last name

Y/B/T = your blood type (if you don’t know you can pick a random one, there is O-/+, AB-/+, A+/-, and B-/+)

A/n: I have a too much fun writing the hospital scenes sorry. And before you at me for a second coma, it isn’t one. Some people just take longer to come out of general anesthesia.

Chapter 11: Leave a Light On

Words: 4K

“Oh my god, she still has a pulse” said one of EMTs in the copter.

“Tell the hospital to have as much Y/B/T on hand when we get there.”

“We got you, Mrs. Holland.”

Everything was a blur. You were taunted by your consciousness ebbing like the tide. One minute you were awake, the other not so much. Noises and smells seemed louder and stronger as your sight was stripped from you. A constant buzzing gave the hint of a helicopter, you were rescued. You wanted to give up at that moment. All your energy had dissipated over the hours of waiting. Giving up would make all the pain go away.

But at what cost? You wanted to see Parker’s and Rosie’s smiling face once more. You wanted to see Tom again. Tell him you loved him because you aren’t so sure he truly believed you the last time. You wanted all these things but it seemed you were meant for a different path.

One without pain, struggle and hurt. One that has only known of peace, bliss, and tranquility. One you ready to say goodbye to and the other hello.

Something beyond yourself was keeping in the position you were in. Struggling to bring oxygen to your lungs, bleeding out liter after liter from your side you were ready and needed to give up. Someone else wasn’t ready.

“Mrs. Holland can you hear me?” A doctor said, shining a light in your eyes to see if you were responsive.

“Mrs. Holland, we are going to take good care of you.”

“Oh, wow... she’s soaked entirely through her bandage. I need all the bags from the blood bank of Y/B/T you can find. She could die of exsanguination any moment.

“Tom,” you whispered.

“What was that? Did you hear that?” Asked the hospital staff, working above you. You reached up weakly, to pull your oxygen mask off for a second.

“Tell Tom I love him, please,” was all you could choke out before a terrifying but familiar sound filled the room. A monotone beep. You were coding.

“I need a crash cart in here. Charging to 200… clear,” called out the doctor. Your body jolted up with the force of 200 joules.

“Charging to 300… clear.”

“Charge to 400, CLEAR,” the doctor screamed.

“Charge to 450—.“

“Doctor we aren’t supposed to give that high of a shock,” informed one of the surgical interns.

“I don’t care, this woman needs to see her kids again… Clear,” The doctor said, delivering a final defibrillation. Your heart rate returned to normal, a steady pulse still weak but there.

“Doctor, she has a pneumothorax (collapsed lung) on her right lung,” said one of the medical personnel using the ultrasound. “Shit, we need to get her to the OR now. Let’s move. I’m not going to let her die on me.” The doctor explained.

A plane ride that was only supposed to be 2 hours and 15 minutes melded into what felt like days. No word from Harry or anyone had come about you and Tom. They all landed and took a car to the hospital. It was enough waiting by then, all they knew is that both of you were found. Neglecting to mention dead or alive.

“I’m here for Tom and Y/N Holland. They were airlifted in. Can we see them?” Nikki asked the person at the front desk.

“No hablo ingles, lo siento,” said the receptionist

“IS THERE ANYBODY HERE WHO SPEAKS ENGLISH?” Dom screamed. “Yes, I do. Did I hear you say you are here for Tom and Y/N Holland?” Asked a man clad in a white lab coat.

“Yes. He’s my son and she’s my daughter-in-law. These are their kids.” Nikki explained gesturing to Parker and Rosie.

“Well ma’am if you’ll follow me. I can tell you in private.” “No, whatever needs to be said, they can hear. They want to hear.” “Still follow me to a private waiting room please, your son is in there. Everyone can come,” the doctor concluded. “Alright then,” Nikki responded, following the doctor to a private waiting room.

“Harry.” Rosie said, seeing her favorite uncle.

“You made it, I’ve been waiting for you guys to hear an update.” Harry was so happy to see the rest of his family. “It’s bad, it was really bad,” Harry explained somberly. “Enough with the dilly dally, just tell me. Is my son dead?” Nikki couldn’t take the waiting anymore.

“They were both brought in barely conscious. Tom had lost some blood due to an open wound on his femur, he has a severe concussion, a few cracked ribs and a small knick on his kidney. He is currently in surgery, they are fixing his kidney. The most he will have is a few stitches but, we are very confident he’ll pull through,” explained the doctor.

“And my mom?” Rosie asked.

“Y/N is currently in surgery, she has protruding wound to the abdomen, a collapsed lung, broken ribs, and a severe concussion. She lost a lot of blood, almost dying of exsanguination. She is in surgery to treat her abdominal wound and her lung. Our biggest concern is sepsis, we are worried an infection caused by the elements will occur.”

“So she’ll be okay, right?” Parker questioned.

“She wasn’t conscious like Tom when they found her. In her case the amount of blood she lost might have stopped bringing oxygen to her brain. If she survives the surgery—“

“If?” Rosie gasped, starting to cry.

“Rosie, let him finish,” Parker snapped.

“If she survives, we don’t know when or if she will wake up. We can only hope for the best. I promise to come back with any further updates.”

“Thank you doctor,” said Nikki.

“I need some tea or coffee or a drink. Anyone else?” Sam said, Dom nodded in response.

“I’ll join you and dad,” Paddy said following Dom and Sam out of the room.

Parker was trying to keep everything inside. He actually appreciated the uncertainty of it all, the longer it went on the longer he didn’t have to hear a definitive answer, that you and Tom were dead.

Parker mainly tried to comfort Rosie but that position was filled once Haz and Henry got to the hospital. It was only 30 mins til another doctor approached them.

“Your son is out of surgery. He is resting in room 302, we are just waiting for him to come out of general anesthesia,” came in another doctor with news.

“Thank you. And my daughter-in-law?”

“She is still in surgery,” informed the doctor.

“Ok, thank you. I’m going to go check on Tom. Parker come with?” Nikki asked, she didn’t want to be alone seeing Tom lie in a hospital bed.

“Sure,” Parker said, following Nikki through the door.

“Harry, you’ll stay here with Rosie,” Nikki called out.

“How you doing, Roo?” Harry asked, moving towards Rosie’s side.

“My mom calls me that,” she said, unmoving towards Harry’s love.

Rosie was still like a statue. But her mind was very active, traveling from place to place. Just waiting for someone to update her on your condition.

“I know. She’ll pull through, Rosie.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Cause I know your mom. For as long as I can remember she has always been the strongest person in the room.” Harry comforted her, draping an arm over her shoulders. “Your dad is convinced she is indestructible. Sure, she has gotten hurt in the past but she has always bounced back. Hasn’t she?” Harry encouraged.

“Yeah, she has,” Rosie sniffled, wiping her nose with her sweater’s sleeve.

“After everything she has survived, she is still here,” Harry asserted. “When she and your dad first were dating, they’d like to scare each other. Tom must’ve pulled something like 20 guns on her. It was really funny to watch,” Harry grinned.

“Tell me more stories please,” Rosie perked up at the anecdotes.

“Well there was that time when your mom told your dad about being pregnant with both you and Parker.”

“I already know that one.”

“Ok, let me think… oh. One time we pulled a prank on her. All of us, me, your dad, Sam, Paddy and Haz. She was supposed to speak at this benefit promoting something… I want to say a disease… maybe climate change… who cares,” Harry began. “But she is better at it now but she used to be so scared of public speaking. That night at the gala, she had a panic attack and Tom went to comfort her backstage, while the boys and I all went into her purse and switched out her speech for the joke one we made.”

“She went on stage and broke in to a laughing fit. All her nerves dissipated as she stood up there, cracking jokes from left and right. It was really funny because she was so scared she would read whatever was written on the cards. She did end up making a fool out of herself, but it was funny nonetheless. She was so mad at us, she avoided Tom for a week,” Harry finished, reminiscing of that night.

“Wow, that’s mean. Like really mean,” Rosie remarked as his story came to an end.

“No it wasn’t. It was funny, she’ll laugh about it now if you ask her.”

“Was she as mad as she has been lately?” Rosie inquired.

“What do you mean?”

“Mom and dad have been fighting a lot… I’m scared they won’t be able to work it out. I’ve never seem them like this,” Rosie cried, fighting back a fit of sobs.

“Roo, those two? Are you kidding me? They will work it out, they always have.”

“But that isn’t a guarantee.”

“Rosie, your mom and dad have been written in the stars since the beginning. Nothing will ever break them apart. And almost dying really brings people back together. I wouldn’t worry Rosie, they’ll be ok,” Harry consoled her.

Rosie really needed to hear that. Something to get her mind off all the death and sickness that surrounded her. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She needed you to hold her once more.

“Mrs. Holland, Y/N is out of surgery now. If you’ll follow me I can take you to her room,” a doctor said to Nikki as she was stroking Tom’s hair, waiting for him to wake up.

“Oh thank god, thank you. Parker do you want to come?” Nikki asked.

“No, I think I’ll stay here with dad. In case he wakes up. I’m not ready to see her like that anyway,” Parker mumbled, needing every excuse to not walk into your room.

Nikki just nodded in response. Nikki was there when Rosie was in her coma and she knew you liked to talk to her as if she was there, so she did the same.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m sorry this happened. The doctors have warned me that you might not wake up and I’m here to tell you that’s not an option. Your kids need you. Tom needs you…. He won’t be able to live without you. None of us will,” Nikki said, holding you hand. As soon as Rosie got word, she was already there. Standing in your doorway peering at your sunken body.

“Mom? It’s Rosie…. It’s your Roo,… why isn’t she waking up?” Rosie came barging in. She’d never seen you in a state like this.

“Mom? Mommy, please,” Rosie said, starting to shake you a bit.

“Rosie, come here,” Nikki said, pulling her into her arms. “She’ll be ok. All we have to do is wait.” Nikki concluded.

In Tom’s room, Parker was still there by his dad’s side. Everything had gotten massively screwed up. He was betraying his own dad and Tom didn’t even know.

“Parker?” Tom croaked out, slightly moving.

“Dad, I’m so glad you are okay,” Parker lunged to hug him.

“Me too, buddy,” Tom said, gritting his teeth to mask the pain.

“How’s mom?” Tom asked, praying you were still alive. It had been a rough night. Images of your half-dead body leaning against him for support plagued his memory.

“Umm… you should see for yourself.”

“What room is she in?” Tom asked, jumping out of bed.

“Dad, I don’t think it’s such a good idea you get up,” Parker exclaimed.

“Parker, don’t you dare stand in my way.”

“Mr. Holland, you’re awake — woah, you can’t get up. Your stitches could rip,” the nurse spoke with a thick Spanish accent.

“I don’t care. Let me see my wife,” Tom yelled.

“You may need to sedate him,” Parker said cheekily.

“Fuck that,” Tom cursed.

“You aren’t doing anything to me till I see her,” Tom asserted, the nurse just nodded in response and brought him a wheel chair.

Parker wheeled him through the hospital. He was about to face his fear as well as Tom. It both being the fact that you were dead and not longer living. They weren’t ready for that.

Tom came into your room and it was like a time machine. All those times he was walked into a room similar to this one with the white walls, white sheets, bright blinding lights and the machines that beep to no end. He was taken back to every time he had seen you lying in a hospital bed.

All the times he knew he hadn’t protected you. All the guilt and anguish came flooding back. Washing over him like a tsunami.

He walked in to see everyone gathered around you. Rosie was sitting on the left side of your bed, clutching your left hand and Henry was next to her keeping an arm around her shoulder. Tom didn’t care about them anymore, all that mattered was you.

“Dad, you’re awake!” Rosie cheered, as she saw Tom in the doorway.

“Yeah baby, I’m okay,” he said, holding Rosie close to his chest.

“I’m scared, dad. I’m scared she won’t wake up,” Rosie cried.

“I know. I am too.” Tom responded, his eyes still fixed to your lifeless figure.

“You know it was just a 5 weeks ago, you were lying a hospital bed just like mom. And she was holding on to your hand just like you are to her. And if you woke up from that, I can promise you she’ll wake up from this,” Tom encouraged.

“You really think so?” Rosie queried.

“I know so.… You know what your mom loves to tell me?”

“No. What?”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“It sounds like her,” Rosie chucked to herself.

“Yeah, it does.” Tom did the same, he was the one keeping you here. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. 17 years was nothing compared to lifetime he was destined to have with you. Nobody accounts for the times where something so drastic happens that it can change your entire timeline.

Nobody believes they will die tomorrow or get hit by a bus anywhere. People just live in day to day life thinking that they have a 100 years to go.

You’d think by now, he’d gotten used to seeing you in a hospital bed. Maybe grown accustomed to it. On the contrary, every time he’d see you like this he’d go weak at the knees and beg to switch places with you. To be the one lying there, on death’s door, not you

Every time he has made a promise, your life has been put on the line. You are constantly caught in the crossfires. Tom slowly remembered why he hated hospitals so much, especially when they were associated with you.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Nikki said, motioning for everyone to clear the room so it was just Tom and you.

“Hey, darling. I told you we’d make it. We had two choices either we died together or we made it together.” Tom began, trying not to cry.

“Y/N, I’m standing here and I’m okay. So it’s only a matter of time before I see you again. We promised it would be us together. Don’t you dare go back on that promise from ages ago, I’m supposed to go before you. Ok? It’s supposed to me. You promised me.”

“This one that you have to keep. I know it might be nearly impossible to, love. But there is no but or if, there is only you waking up and seeing me. Seeing your husband who loves you more than life itself. Seeing our two beautiful kids. I know I haven’t been your favorite person lately, so don’t do it for me. Do it for them, Parker and Rosie. They need you, more than they know.”

“Alright princess, it's only a matter of time. I’ll see you soon.” Tom finished, pressing a kiss to your forehead. One of longing, he just wanted to see your smiling face again. He let himself go completely, breaking down the flood gates. Tears started coming and they didn’t stop, they couldn’t.

Haz peered through the open door, to see Tom crying over you, he immediately jumped into best mate mode and went to comfort Tom.

“Hey. It’s ok. You can let it out,” Harrison said, pulling Tom into his arms.

“I was so awful to her Haz. I let her think I cheated on her so she wouldn’t be mad about Rosie and Henry,” Tom cried out.

“Why? What did you do? You know what, that’s not important right now. The point is she will pull through.”

“She could be dying and the last moment I can only remember with her is our fight. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“She’s not dying, Tom. Y/N has survived much more than this and promise you, you will say hello again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Tom said, taking a line from your vernacular.

“Come on, let’s get some coffee… Here, hop on. I’ll push you,” Haz said, grabbing Tom’s wheelchair

“For fucks sake, you aren’t pushing me. I’m not some sick, crippled patient.” Tom exclaimed.

“Well… you did just get out of surgery.”

“I don’t care. I’m not going to let my helicopter crashing be the reason I can’t walk and I am looked at with pity.”

“Alright Tom, I believe we were going to get some coffee.”

“I don’t want to leave her alone,” Tom whispered.

“Rosie will be in here in a moment,” Haz explained.

“Ok.. Roo, can you go sit with your mom while I get your dad some coffee?” Haz asked. Tom still didn’t want to leave you but he knew you would want him to eat something.

“Yes, I’ll keep her safe.”

“I know you will, baby… Hold it. Hey Henry, can I talk to you?” Tom said, holding Henry back from entering the room.

“Dad,” Rosie said, sternly.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Tom said pulling Henry to the side.

“I’m sorry Tom.. um I mean Mr. Holland but I love your daughter more than anything,” Henry stammered.

“I just wanted to say thank you for being there for her when.. you know,” Tom admitted.

“Of course, I love her very much. And if the time every comes where I plan on marrying her I will ask for hands in marriage,” Henry promised.

“Woah kid, slow down. This is permission to date. No talking or even thinking about marriage, you understand. Also wear a fucking condom.”

“Yes, sir. Understood… Thanks Tom.”

“You’re a good kid, Henry. She’s in good hands,” Tom grinned, Henry just smiled and returned to Rosie. Returning to his rightful place, in her arms.

“Haz, did you bring me a change of clothes. I need to get out of this fucking gown,” Tom chuckled.

“Are you sure that’s a good ide—“ Haz started but was soon cut off.

“Eh, eh,” Tom interrupted giving him a harsh glare.

“You are not weak, I get it. Yeah, they are in my bag,” Haz concluded.

Tom said, “Thank you,” in return.

The waiting was back and it was killing Tom once again. This time he wasn’t waiting for both your impending deaths, just yours. It was eating him from the inside out.

You didn’t have enough time together. It wasn’t enough. Tom desired more, he needed more. All your favorite moments of you played through his head. Like he was watching a movie of his life with you, his love story.

One specifically, the day he proposed to you. It was hard to top his happiness that day.

All the days leading up to it he was distant and flighty. It worried it you greatly. Was he planning to break up with you? You were consumed with never-ending negative thoughts about your relationship.

It had been a while since you and Tom had a date night. He’d blown you off a few times to plan out the perfect proposal, afraid he’d let the question just slip out somehow. However, that was unknown to you so all you thought was, he’s an ass.

Tom was in his office, planning out how he was going to do it. What he would wear, where he would propose, what would he say. What would you say? He was nervous wreck.

“Haz, I can’t have anyone come in here ok?” Tom ordered. He must’ve practiced it 7 times. Getting down on one knee and declaring his love for you behind closed doors.

“Understood, Tom,” Haz said, giving him a cheeky grin as he closed his door. Not even 10 mins later, you came barging in through the front door. In a fury because Tom hadn’t returned any of your calls.

“Where is he?” You asked Haz. “Y/N?” He said, confused as to why you were here. Well, you did live there.

“Where’s Tom? I have to talk to him,” you asserted. “Why am I asking you? Of course, he is in his study,” you replied to your own question.

“NO, you can’t go in there,” Haz said, following you to Tom’s office.

“And why not?”

“He’s in a meeting.”

“What meeting would he have a 10:30 at night… Unless?” Your heart sank at the possibility of Tom not alone in there.

“Unless what?”

“He has a woman in there doesn’t he?”

“Umm.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go. You won’t see me around anymore. He chose her over me,” you said, trying not to cry. But you weren’t going to put up a fight.

“Y/N it’s not like that,” Haz called after you, trying to stop you from walking away.

“Then what is it Haz?”

“I can’t tell you?… Just go in there and see for yourself.”

“I don’t want see them.”

“Just do it,” Haz ordered, you eventually agreed. Opening the door to a very well-dressed Tom down on one knee holding a blue velvet box in his hands.

“People always spoke of soulmates and I didn’t believe them. But then I found you. And I had never been so happy to be proven wrong. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N you make me want to be a better man. You are my inspiration for everything. I can’t ever imagine living without you. Will you marry me?” Tom said, oblivious to you standing right there.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation.

“No! No, no. You weren’t supposed to see that. Haz I told you to guard the door,” Tom yelled.

“Yes, Tommy. I’ll marry you”, you continued, hoping he’d hear you.

“God, it's ruined now. I’m so sorry. I had this huge plan take you to the London eye,” Tom apologized profusely, running his hands through the curls atop his head in frustration.

“Tom, you're not hearing me. I want to be your wife,” you exclaimed, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

“You do?” Tom surprised at your answer.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been saying. YES!” You screamed. Tom immediately grabbed you twirling you in the air and kissed you with all the love and passion you deserved. He had been neglecting you so he wouldn’t spoil it.

He put the ring on your finger. It looked as though it was home. You were his and he was yours. Nothing could top that moment.

Thinking about you and the time spent together. It made it that much harder to say goodbye.

Tom was brought out of his trance as you stirred, starting to wake. All heads and eyes turned towards you.

“Y/N. Honey, it’s ok. You were in a helicopter crash. You’re ok. You’re ok. I’m so happy to see you,” Tom whispered, tucking the hair out of your face.

The moment you came to, your eyes widened and a look of panic adorned your face. You were completely lost. Unaware of all your surroundings. You managed to croak out three words. Not an “I love you,” not words of love, quite the opposite.

“Who are you?”

A/n: Alright, Y/N lived. As I promised, there are 17 chapter in this series, 6 more to go. I will start writing the sequel series once all these chapters have been posted, even though I have it already planned out in my head lol. New chapters every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

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