#AND i just remembered he also fought w his family last week and now he got fired and she neither knows nor notice i am feeling sick to my

[zaggyzoo]

love in contract is like. isn't it funny how gwang nam is always there for sang eun and always knows when something's wrong with her and she kicks him out of her room? so funny

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

[dragonseattofu]

NekuShiki question time! #2 :)

Who said "I love you" first? When?

Do they ever go dancing? How does it go?

Who is more affectionate with the other?

First I love you

The person who I envision to say the first “I love you” in the post-NEO world would be Neku. Pre-NEO I would hands down have thought it would be Shiki, because out of the two I feel like Neku’s more of an awkward sort and wouldn’t know how to put romantic feelings into words. But after NEO I feel like Neku became a little better at conveying his feelings and here’s why:

He watched her exit the elevator. She was talking to someone holding a camera bag, possibly the photographer she had just hired a couple of days ago. He remembered their evening meal yesterday, one he had to pry her away from her work to partake in, relating to her upcoming photoshoot. He learned their usual photographer had double booked and she had to scramble to find a replacement. The replacement looked young, around their age, and seemed to be bowing a goodbye to her before walking towards the exit behind him.

Neku continued to watch her, as she pulled out her phone from her Mr. Mew purse. Shiki tapped furiously at the screen, with speed rivaling Nagi, and seconds later he felt a buzz in his pocket.

After tucking her phone back away, Shiki moved toward the turnstiles situated near the door and finally saw him. It took her a second to overcome the surprise, he didn’t tell her that he was coming to pick her up, but she immediately brightened as she walked toward him at a steadfast pace.

How many days, months, years had he waited and hoped for to see a sight like this? To feel like this? Like his chest tightening in anticipation of her being in his arms, his cheeks warming at her smiling at him for simply … existing? How long had he spent thinking about the life he could have had with his friends, with her?

When Neku was dropped into the Shinjuku UG, he went into shock. Why? Why was he back when he was banned from ever playing the game again? He had just gotten his life back. He finally didn’t feel so alone in the vast seas of Shibuya.

But then he got shot … again.

His cynical side thought, maybe this was his retribution. He didn’t deserve friends, not after what he did to him…

But then he remembered them, and what they had all said to him.

“Let me in! Tell me what you're thinking!”

“Give up on yourself, and you give up on the world.”

“You're not my partner anymore man, you're... my friend. So trus' that yo!”

Come on, work with us. A problem shared is a problem halved!

And then he could have sworn he heard her…

“You finally came back to us … I knew you would.”

“I’m so happy you're back, Neku.”

He didn’t remember her saying that to him, but it wasn’t the first time he felt like he saw things that haven’t happened yet, things that could happen if he played his cards right. Visions of a future that gave him some … hope.

Every battle he fought, every new area he stumbled into, every floating thought he passed, all led to this hope that he would get back to his friends.

When he wasn’t fighting to survive, or when Coco was standing watch so he could rest, he thought about them. Was Beat skipping classes still? Was Rhyme learning how to do those ollies Beat was trying to teach her. Was Shiki … was Shiki hanging out with Eri right now? Was she fixing a stitch on Mr. Mew? Did she miss him, the same way he missed her?

His time in the RG after playing three weeks in the reapers game was short, but nothing less than wonderful. Shiki and Neku went on a couple outings together, just the two of them when the Bito siblings had family errands. It started out a little awkward, especially when familiar restaurant and store keepers thought they were an item already. A specific ramen owner was the worst of them all even though his teasing came from a place of fondness for the pair.

Without him realizing, being with Shiki was almost as natural as breathing, and every moment he spent with her was fun, interesting, precious to him.

Neku didn’t get the time he needed to work out how important Shiki was to him before being plunged into the Shinjuku UG, but three years of company to only the disembodied thoughts of lost souls and an occasional “fairy” reaper gave him the opportunity to delve into it. The conclusion he reached gave him the motivation to keep fighting, to keep surviving. For once, he had someone worth living for.

“Earth to Neku?” Shiki waved her hands in front of his face.

He blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Shiki stood on her toes, trying to look at his face underneath his overgrown bangs. He felt her touch his cheek, concern marring her adorable face.

He hates that he brought so much strain to her life. Maybe she could have been happier with someone else, someone who wouldn’t break their promise to go shopping the next day and abruptly disappear.

But then she smiled at him, having noticed that he simply zoned out. And all of a sudden his negativity stopped spiralling and he felt grounded again. He may not feel like he deserved her, but she chose him nonetheless.

She chose to never give up on him, that he would survive the ordeal he was thrust into. She chose to be the best version of herself that she could be while she waited for him.

And then even after all that time had passed, she still chose to be with him.

Neku didn’t know if there was a word that encompassed the overwhelming emotion he felt whenever he thought of Shiki. One certainly felt close enough though.

“Hey Shiki?” He asked, putting his larger hand over her smaller one that lingered on his cheek.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he said that to anyone, if he did at all. Even though Neku had told Shiki almost immediately after his arrival in the RG that he wanted to be more than friends, he hadn’t used that word before. Love was still such a foreign concept that he wasn’t sure he understood it completely, but if there was anyone in the whole world he could associate love with, it would be Shiki.

Shiki’s hand on his face stiffened at the sudden confession. For a hot second, maybe it wasn’t the time or place she expected him to say it. He felt a slight panic from the doubt of her not reciprocating his feelings.

But those thoughts were quickly thrown out when she leaned in and kissed him.

It was a kiss longer than they had ever shared before. She was physically telling him something, but he was a little preoccupied to fully process anything. Shiki pulled away, far quicker than Neku would have liked, carrying the sweetest grin he ever saw on her.

“I love you too, Neku.”

Dancing

Shiki would have this fancy company dinner that she’d have to go to for networking. As friendly as Shiki is, she’s still introverted and the whole event just sounds utterly exhausting. Neku would be her plus one, because even if that’s the last place he would rather be, he’s her partner, and that’s that. She gets well enough along with everyone, but she has to make the rounds and greet everybody, leaving Neku alone at times. Thankfully Eri’s also there, and the girls take turns between networking and keeping Neku company. He surprises both of them when the head designer for Jupes notices Neku’s deep purple button down shirt from Jupes under a Gatto Nero’s half grey plaid - half black solid blazer (it’s visually better in my head than what I just described), and wants to talk to the designer of the jacket. Neku goes full endorsing mode for his girlfriend, and smiles smug when the girls realize they didn’t need to worry about him, much less securing a major deal with a major brand for a collaboration. He’s pretty happy with himself when he hears a version of Someday play on the surround sound. The dance floor opens up, and a couple of people start a waltz.

Neku thinks to himself, it’s an odd thing to have a dance in the middle of a company dinner, but dinners in the fashion industry are often hosted by the most eccentric of people, and he supposes it’s not so peculiar after all.

The melody plays soft and slow, and if he’s honest with himself, it’s a pretty good rendition of one of his favorite songs. He sees Shiki from the corner of his eye, silently asking her to dance as he extends his hand out. She’s surprised at the gesture. Neku’s many things, but dancer’s not one of them. The exaggerated kicks he’s so fond of are sort of hard to move elegantly in. A simple slow dance, he thinks, is enough for him to handle. Her thin finger slipped effortlessly into his hand.

More affectionate

Post-NEO, I feel that both are pretty affectionate toward one another, but in different ways. Shiki’s more physically affectionate, she’s more of a hugger and is always holding his hand, or his clothes, just so she can feel that he’s there. He doesn’t initiate physical touch as often as she does, but he never let’s go, or moves away from it. This happens more naturally as they start dating, snuggles and such.

Neku’s more affectionate verbally. He’s gotten comfortable saying what’s on his mind more often. He’s not shy about complimenting her, she doesn’t need his reassurances but his opinion is important to her nonetheless. He’s a natural flirt; says things that would be considered suave without intention. He would say pick up lines without realizing that they were pick up lines.

Okay, so I’m like not really sure how best to put my thoughts together but here goes:

The Shibuya and Twister kiddos would all be at some fashion function, and the Fret and Beat would comment on how attractive some of the models are. Neku would just be like, “yeah, they are attractive, but they aren’t as beautiful as Shiki.” Him referring to how much he loves her appearance as well as her personality, whereas he knows nothing about these girls so all he is going on is their looks.

And of course Shiki, who has pins in her mouth and is trying to get her models ready, hears this. Her jaw loosens and the pins fall on the floor. She’s essentially flushed and flabbergasted, by what he said and how nonchalant he said it. He looks at her like he said nothing wrong. Then he just smiles at her, and she just stutters out curse words. She doesn’t have time for this.

Notes: I’m so sorry for the late reply. I’m such a slow thinker and writer! But thanks again for the ask! The first prompt sort of snowballed. Hope you like it! @doesitringabell, I added a collection on Ao3 dedicated to you for any/all other prompts that end up longer than I had anticipated. Check out the source content.

Also sorry for any typos and such, let me know if you spot any. If anyone is still interested in my rambling mess of Neshiki fanfics/ficlets, don’t hesitate to send me more asks! It might take a while, but just know that my moments of silence are just me tinkering with ideas (writing something, hating it, revising it, writing again, rinse, repeat, then screw this, just take it.)

[teamfreewill2pointo]

Transcript of End of the Road Special

Transcript of End of the Road Special. 

Please let me know if I made any errors in transcription. Twitter version Family Don’t End with Blood Transcription Winchester Mythology Transcription

Dabb: Ultimately, we came up with something that we're all very proud of Singer: You never know what the audience is going to like so we really tried to say "what would make us happy? Would we be satisfied with where we've taken them?"

The Carry On song was a guideline.

Singer: The myth of what these brothers were throughout 15 years... We didn't shy away from fatalism, but we wanted to be able to have it be kinda uplifting as well.

Dabb: If you're going to do something that feels like a complete arc, you have to kinda go back to the beginning of it (clips of them hunting vamps from s1 & 15.20) When it comes to Sam & Dean- it's all about getting back to, in some ways, these two guys on the road in this car.

Dabb: They've been doing this job for 15 years now. They've fought everyone from demons to vampires to God himself, but at the end of the day, they're still working guys, out there on the road & taking cases. We've tried to never lose sight of that.

Dabb: There are times when we've been wrapped up in our own mythology a little bit. We've always tried to get back to the basics, which are: these two guys, saving people, hunting things. 

Eugenie: I think we sort of knew generally what the ending would involve.

Eugenie: We might not have known the mechanics, but we sort of knew there would be a victorious, glorious sacrificial ending bc I think sacrifice is a big theme in the series.

For every great thing you do, a cost must be paid.

Singer: Andrew & I talked about it. We were in agreement pretty quickly... talked to the rest of the writing staff & let them know what we wanted to do and we were open to suggestions. And then we pretty much pitched it to Jared and Jensen.

Jensen talks about flying to LA. Jensen: So before we ever even started 15, we knew how the last portion of the story was going to go. We didn't know how we were going to get there, but we kinda knew the final- the finish line- we knew what... what that was going to look like.

Jared: I don't think there's ever been a season of SPN in 15 years where the way the writers thought the show would play out for that season- ended up being the way it played out And so we were aware of that. They told us here's what we're thinking, here's what happens to Castiel

Jared: In the finale, Dean dies & Sam lives on. And then we think they're going to meet up in heaven. 

I remember Jensen... just because I know him so well- he seemed to bristle a little bit.

Jensen: It was hard to hear then & it was hard to read now. Not because I didn't like it, not because I wished it had gone differently... I'm not adverse to it. I think it's a great ending. I'm proud to film it.

Singer: And we just aimed for that, you know, throughout the season. We knew where we were going.

Jensen: Reading it & knowing that... there's just a weight that is so much larger reading these scripts than I've ever experienced before. 

There's an emotional weight that these scripts are going to carry & these episodes are going to have that I don't think we've ever seen before.

Brad: [J2] were so young when all of this started. They brought to it such conviction & such commitment to the effort. 

That's one of the things that kept the show going for so many years... a show that was designed for very young guys, footloose & fancy free, & on the road…

Brad: To see these guys grow up b4 your eyes into- men, not boys any longer- was amazing. 

BABY Jared: Though the story does involve Sam & Dean chasing supernatural things, it really is a story about two brothers that love each other & ultimately will do anything for each other.

Jensen: There's really one person that gets it on the level that I get it, and that's Jared. Jared: I've never spent as much time with another human being as I have with Jensen Ackles. He will be my friend and brother forever. And I know that.

BABY Jensen: There's a lot of dynamics between the two brothers, there's a lot of history between them, there's a lot of banter between them... it's good stuff S15 Jensen: We had a partner in crime & we leaned on each other for, you know, for times when it was tough.

Jensen: But we also won together. We got to share the experience of success & the experience of getting picked up for another season. Watching these two characters go through what they're going through, when we're working 14 hours & it's 2-3 o’clock on a Sat morning and we're just now finishing filming out in the rain and mud and we gotta race to the airport to get on a plane because we've got a photoshoot in LA & we've gotta do on camera interviews and we gotta promote the show that we love so much that we were just in the mud & the rain filming hours before we're exhausted and it's like there's only one person that gets that right now. That gets how I feel and that's this guy standing next to me. That's pretty cool. That's pretty cool to have somebody like that.

Brad: We knew it was going to be impossible to tie up every aspect of all of the cans of worms that we opened up. 

We did want to bring a proper ending to the guys, the guy's relationship.

Brad: Then of course we had this huge corner we painted ourselves into with the most powerful thing in the universe being the big bad of the season. We try and find a proper send off for Jack & for Cas. What to do w/ the boys & is that a together farewell or an individual?

It was just... lots of moving parts. 

Dabb: I give a lot of credit to Bobo who really was the one who started banging the drum early & often to ending the mythology in 19 and end the characters in 20.

Brad: You're battling God & battling God & you have this epic situation going on through the first 3/4 of the show & then what? You send off Dean in act 4? That just felt wrong. Eugenie: We had this obligation, it was really mandatory, that we tie up the mythic narrative and leave the final episode for the emotional resolution. I [was] more on the side of not wanting to best God. To have God change to be more like his creations. So there were philosophical arguments, but we always knew God's resolution was going to be a big ticket item.

Jensen: We'd started day 1 of the 2nd to last episode, 19. We were 1 day down on that episode & we were just about to start our 2nd day & we got the call that morning that we were not going to be coming in that day.

Jensen: So we figured ok, we'll figure out protocol, figure out what we need to do, & we'll just regroup, come back on Monday. As that day progressed, it was like- this looks like more of an apocalypse that is ascending upon us than just a bad cold.

They pulled the plug & they said everybody go home. 

Singer: Fortunately, we got assurance from both the studio & the network that one way or another we were gonna finish the series. That was comforting to us, but we didn't know when we were going to go back.

Eugenie: We didn't know what we were going back to... if this was the last time we would ever see the set. There was no plan. It was just get out of dodge. Dabb: When it first happened, we thought it would be a couple of weeks, maybe a month.

I had conversations w/WB where they expected everyone to be back shooting in June & then things got worse & pushed & pushed.

Eugenie: Slowly as we settled into that 4 or 5 month period, discussions were going on w/the studio, & the networks, & the actors. We knew there would be restrictions on what we were allowed to shoot, but finally, the mechanics were figured out. 

Singer: So they were ready to go pretty quickly, shooting in Van, where covid wasn't quite as virulent as it was [in LA].

Dabb: We were one of the first shows, one of the first WB shows to start back up. So in a way, we were kinda a guinea pig. But, in being that, I think everyone took it really seriously. We had 0 positive tests. Crew members weren't going out on the weekends.

They were like look, if I get sick, it hurts the whole show. That speaks to the family culture up there, where we've had so much of our crew for so long. Where J2 & Singer provide such great leadership.

Singer: When I was in prep for 20, I was basically in the office but couldn't go to the set. It was very odd for me not to be able to go to the set while I was in prep. 

Everybody just hung in there & did what they were supposed to do.

Brad: Then we were faced with the dilemma of having to rewrite a lot of the stuff bc of the pandemic bc of the limitations that we knew were going to come on the production.

Jensen: We were gearing up for, not only the end of that season, but the end of the series. There was a lot of big, big things written-packed- into those last two scripts.

Jared: At first, it was supposed to be a lot of our old cast from prior seasons in a Roadhouse with Kansas.

Everybody had already agreed. Kansas was going to be in Van. We were going to have dad there & mom there. Just probably 20 or 30 different actors & actresses who had been a part of the SPN's canon over the last 15 & a half years.

Jensen: It was scheduled to be the last day that we were going to film, so it was almost like rolling right into a nice wrap party on camera. 

Brad: The idea of flying a boatload of ppl up there to quarantine for 2 weeks so they could shoot for a day was making less & less sense.

Eugenie: How do we make this work? And while you're doing that, you also don't want to sacrifice the heart and soul of the project. 

So we came up with a reduced, much more intimate ending. It has been replaced by something equally magical & rewarding.

Singer: I felt an enormous responsibility in directing the finale of a show that's been on for 15 years. Andrew, when he saw the cut, he said some really nice things to me as to, you know, the way I handled the material.

Jensen: The scenes that were filmed on our last day on the sound stages were filled with the most emotion of the final episode. 

Singer: One of the really hard things was we're on another stage that wasn't the MoL stage & they started wrecking the MoL sets

They'd been working on this set and been apart of this- this family for just as long if not longer than the set's been around. I was like "it's really sad seeing this get taken down" and the other guy said, "I'm trying to hold back tears while I'm swinging this hammer."

Jared: As we start saying goodbye to characters, to locations, like it just seems like every day you would wake up and there would be some reason to cry. 

Misha: This is a show ultimately about love, & empathy, & caring, & I think that Castiel embodies that.

Misha: Half the crew was crying. It was really such a sweet, supporting environment to be in for the demise of a character that, of course, for me is really important. 

But it was so lovely to see that, you know, the folks that I'm- I'm working with were also there for Cas at that moment. 

Alex: To get to work with these caliber people & see your friends every day is really special & is not something that often happens in this business for this long. It's been definitely a topsy turvy last couple weeks here with us and the crew. 

Jared: Friday of the final full week was the big scene in the barn with the vampires where Dean suffers his fate. They did the first two days with the entire stunt team & the young boy actors. 

And then they cut it for Thursday night and they're like, okay, Friday, tomorrow, we’re starting the dialogue. Dean, you're on the post. Sam, you just cut off the last vampire's head.

That was the scene- that was where Supernatural was really encapsulated. 

Jensen: And then the next week we kind of had this- on the road encore get together filmmaking scenario that felt more like we made it & it was more pats on the back as opposed to tearful goodbyes. 

Dabb: In a weird way you can look at the 15 seasons is like Sam & Dean's emotional evolution. You know instead of therapy, they kill vampires, but other than that it's kind of the same & brings them both to a very good place. And a place where they can, as the song says, you know, lay their weary head to rest. 

This felt like the most honest & emotionally fulfilling episode for these characters to us. Jared: I got thinking about how Supernatural started & how the majority of times how I thought it should end. It started with Sam & Dean Winchester. I think it's proper that it ended with Sam & Dean Winchester together again. 

Jensen: When the cameras stop rolling & Bob yelled, “Cut!” and Bob yelled, “That’s a series wrap on Supernatural.” There was- a there was a loud cheer that echoed through that canyon we were filming in. I will- I will happily say that there were hugs that happened and that needed to happen. Those are people that I spent not just years with, but so much time with- it's like brothers in arms and so to put it to bed the way that we did felt really good and then felt good to hug some people, I'll tell you that much. Singer: I thanked everyone, but I wanted to really thank people who had been with us from the beginning and as I looked around, there were so many people who had been there from the beginning.

We really were a family. I always say about this show is one of the reasons that it was a success and is that it was not only about the Winchester family, but it was about the Supernatural family. 

Jared: So now that's all said and done, I guess I can look back at it and just be proud that I helped this show carry on and I'm really proud of the blood, sweat, and tears that I put in, and I feel like- I feel like that sacrifice was also maybe one of the things I learned from Sam, you know? Sam had to sacrifice a lot. So, I'm honored and flattered and grateful that I got to be a part of that journey.

Dabb: You're never going to have another show like this. You're never gonna have another experience like this. For a lot of different reasons, from how long it ran, from the family that the show became, from the amazing fans that we have. [Footage of us] From the emotional investment people can put in over 15 years of their lives. 

Some started watching this when they were in high school, when they were 15, they're 30 now, they might have kids. That's their- that's like half their life. They've been with this show. You're not gonna have that again. Shows just aren’t gonna run this long, especially genre shows, but I don't know that I'm ever gonna do anything else in my career that I'm gonna be more proud of than having been involved in this show. 

Jared: The things that stick out are just how important it is to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And keep on working and wake up every day and treat it like it could be your last and- and if you make it out the other side, you'll be happy and proud of what you did. 

Jensen: The crew had packed up, they had cleared the bridge, and they were all starting to, you know, load their trucks and get moving. And Jared and I just kind of hung back, and we just took a moment. I looked at him and I said, “I’m proud of us, man. I'm proud of what we've done.”

We know that that's the collective we, that is everyone that is involved, that is- you know from the top down. You know, for our portion, for what we contributed to this monster of the show, he and I reflected on that, and still able to see and smell the roses.

[raelikestoramble]

yesssss, I'm still trying to recover from the finale... Can you do an story w Eddie pining for Buck after his break up w Ana? Like he releaized his feelings for Buck after getting shot and almost dying but Buck is together w Tyler? Please and thank youuuu

AN: Sorry, this got away from me and I wrote more than I thought I would! Thanks for the great prompt, I really loved it but wasn’t sure where to take it, so a lot of this is Eddie’s internal thoughts. Hope you still like it!

Eddie hadn’t meant for it to go on for as long as it did. Truly, he hadn’t – time had a funny habit of slipping away from him as of late; in his recovery, what mattered most to him was getting himself back to normal – or as close as he could ever return to, given what he had been through – and keeping life as stable as possible… for Christopher. No big changes, no upsetting surprises.

That thought did little to ease the lingering sense of guilt, though.

It had been only a few days since Eddie finally sat Ana down to, as delicately as he could, say that their time together was coming to a close.

She had been so lovely about it, too, because that was her nature and it had made having to break it off worse, almost. Ana was kind, sweet, understanding – perfectly nice – and, for all those reasons, she deserved better, a lot more; someone who was completely in it for her, as invested in her as she was in them. He didn’t always realise it, but he knew for a while before he broke it off that he couldn’t be that person for Ana. In time, another would be. He was sure of it.

He had felt, much to his embarrassment, tears burning his eyes as he explained to her that he entered a relationship with her for the wrong reasons… and that he had so much to figure out about himself. She had clasped his hand in hers, gave a watery smile, and told him that she understood; she had even reassured him that it was all okay and he didn’t need to be too hard on himself over it. It was the most amicable split he could’ve imagined happening. With guilt, came the sweetness of relief, an acute light feeling that he didn’t notice was missing for the longest time.

And then, once that was over and the dust had settled… he was free. Free to… wallow, he supposed, in what he had realised weeks ago, because there was nothing that Eddie could do about it.

He remembered how it felt, being disoriented, in pain, slipping from consciousness, with those blue eyes boring into his, wide and frantic, as Buck fought hard for him, for his very life. How it felt afterwards seeing his face come into view from around the corner, smiling at him with such a genuine and unfiltered joy. Warmth, safety, and happiness – because Buck was family, that much he had decided to make official in a legal tie a year ago.

It was the overwhelming feeling of love, and relief in seeing him safe, unharmed and by his side the first chance he got, that sent Eddie’s mind reeling and down a path he couldn’t back out from. Buck was all of that to him, and more, and the feeling of longing had burrowed into Eddie’s mind, becoming a nagging and persistent sensation that made him feel… sick, flustered, and even morose.

Love – romantic and sexual love - for Eddie had always been a struggle, had wound up feeling oddly… unnatural, as though he was following the expectations of others, or his own idea of familial obligation, rather than his own heart. He was chasing something that, by all accounts, should have felt right, but with Ana… and even with Shannon, it was wrong; it all fell flat in some way. Finally becoming aware of the different light in which he saw Buck in was like a piece of himself just clicking into place; he felt whole, finally.

It was more than a little inconvenient, though, realising that he was in love with his best friend… someone that he happened to see pretty much every day, either at work or off shift. His very straight, very happily coupled up best friend. It was a lot to wrap his head around.

Of course, Eddie was being very mature about it, something he could find a small bit of pride in – because he knew he needed to get over this, to respect Buck’s happiness, his relationship with Taylor, and not ruin their friendship by foolishly expressing what he really wanted. That was the respectable, adult thing to do. So, he kept his desire quiet, and he tried his best to be the good, supportive friend Buck knew him to be, but… in a small way, he had pulled back; he knew he had. Sometimes, Eddie was allowed to act to protect himself; allowed to be a touch selfish. To get over it, he needed a bit more space than usual. It was only fair.

“Eddie,” came Hen’s voice unexpectedly; he picked up instantly on the concerned undertone.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her furrowed brows and the frown lines on her face. He wished people would stop looking at him like that – like he was to be pitied, like he was still injured and helpless. The whole team all went through their fair share of ordeals… it seemed part of the job description, but there was something about the sniper targeting them that unnerved everybody more than anything else that they had faced before. It had struck Eddie’s core, too, and brought up a lot of ugly, old wounds - he was giving therapy another try because of it… and it was going better than it had before, to his surprise.

It had been months since he was shot, significant progress had been made, but there was still an unspoken tension in the firehouse at times. It was especially bad with Buck – he had pulled closer than ever, always happy, eager even, to offer his support and help in… everything, which made Eddie’s need for maintaining some space between them all the more difficult. It also gave him a sliver of hope, and that was a dangerous thing. He had grown too dependent on Buck; he had someone else to share him with now, he thought with a pang to his chest.

“Yeah?” he returned tiredly after a delay, still staring ahead.

His gaze was fixed on where Buck was sat a small distance away with Chimney by his side, his head thrown back laughing in a moment that ought to be captured in a photograph – oh, and how that beautiful, jubilant sound leaving his mouth twisted mercilessly at Eddie’s insides.

“You’ve been moving that piece of pasta around your bowl for the last ten minutes.”

“… So I have,” he sighed, letting his fork clatter against the plate in defeat.

He’d barely touched his lunch, but his appetite had been culled. Buck’s voice was loud – it carried effortlessly across the room. So, he easily overheard Buck responding to Chimney bringing up the topic of Taylor, and it was… embarrassing, the impact it had, how easily it soured his mood.

“Is that all I get? It’s ‘going well’?” Chimney exclaimed, nudging Buck’s side, a teasing grin on his face. “C’mon, Buckley. We usually can’t get you to shut up.”

Buck laughed bashfully and lifted his head up, almost catching his eye, but Eddie averted his gaze just in time to miss it. He could’ve sworn that he caught the sight of Buck’s smile faltering. He shook his head, working to tune out that conversation as best he could.

“You know… it’s okay to need more time. If you’re not ready to be back yet, no one will think less of you,” Hen suggested hesitantly, voice soft.

“No, it’s-- not that. I’m glad to be back. This is where I need to be,” he said simply.

Eddie didn’t like where this conversation was headed – but none of it broke through to his expression, and so Hen pushed on, sympathy etched into her features.

“Then… tell me what’s bothering you? You seem down, Eddie – a lot, lately – and I can’t sit here and act like I’m not worried.”

Had it really been that obvious? It was like he, a man in his thirties, had been rendered a hapless, lovestruck teenager – with how he let his feelings for Buck affect him so obviously that Hen had not only noticed but grown worried for him. It was so tragic he could almost laugh.

“Mm, I have a therapist for that,” he said with a wry smile, but instantly regretted it as he saw how Hen leant back in her seat, lips twisting into a frown.

She was trying to help, to be a good friend, and he was dismissive of her attempt right away. His tendency to try to avoid more heavy, emotional talks was one of the issues brought up in therapy and he really was working on it, but it felt impossible, in that moment, to tell the truth, to speak the words aloud to somebody else. Even though he knew Hen would, without a doubt, understand and keep his secret for him – that it might even help for her to know, as awkward and humiliating as it might be at first.

“Sorry. I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He dared to look back over to the corner where Buck was – now, he was showing Chimney pictures on his phone, which were undoubtedly of him and Taylor. Jealousy welled up inside of Eddie, burning hot, and another sigh fell from his lips as he lifted a hand to run down the side of his face. It wasn’t getting easier, only more frustrating.

When he glanced back at Hen, she was already watching him, an odd look on her face, eyes slowly widening. Realisation had already dawned before he could interject and divert the conversation.

“Wait. You-- Buck--?” she started.

Panic enveloped Eddie and, before she could go any further, he abruptly sprang to his feet, hands clasped together.

“Coffee?” he asked loudly.

Without waiting for her to give an answer, he made his escape, darting over to the countertop where the coffee pot was located. After a short pause, he noticed that Hen had made no effort to follow him, because – of course she hadn’t. What was he expecting? Her to run after him, get him into a headlock until he confessed to the revelation that he had that he was head over heels for Evan Buckley? No, this wasn’t a playground. He needed to get a grip.

His shoulders slumped as he expelled a heavy breath out into the air. He gave himself another moment, to allow his heart to stop pounding wildly in his chest, before leaning up to grab a clean mug from the cabinet.

“That was awful,” he muttered to himself, swiping his favourite from the shelf.

“What was awful?” asked Buck, suddenly, appearing at his side.

“Oh, God,” Eddie jumped, and the mug almost slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

Catching it and clutching at it, Eddie gave a breathless laugh.

“Nope, just me,” Buck countered, popping the ‘p’, with a toothy grin on display that caused Eddie’s stomach to start doing flips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie’s expression softened, the hints of anxiety vanishing from his face as he lowered the mug to the surface. He reached for another, automatically, eyes still on Buck. He really was beautiful to look at, all bright, excited eyes, soft dark blonde curls, and crooked smiles – and what was most unfair about it all was that his good looks weren’t the most beautiful thing about him by a long shot.

“I’ll let you off the hook,” he grinned.

Buck leaned forward and his shoulder brushed against Eddie’s, sending a jolt through him that made him step back, the contact quickly lost. Fortunately for him, Buck didn’t seem to have noticed anything.

“So, anyway, I was wondering – you got any plans tonight?” Buck asked cheerily.

Eddie was slow to smile again, but he did, because he knew what he was about to do – give in, so easily. Space was important, but… so was spending quality time with loved ones. He could practically hear his therapist’s voice offering him encouragement.

“I think I have a spot open in my schedule,” he said slowly, giving the impression of nonchalance.

“Great! What do you say to joining me and Taylor out for drinks tonight? You could bring Ana. I think it’d be good for them to start to get to know each other better, don’t you?”

Eddie’s heart sank in his chest, eyes closing for a few seconds before he plastered a placid smile to his face. Disappointment was such a bitter taste, and… he really needed to get around to telling him about Ana. Even if he and Ana were still together and he could agree to this double date, the thought of watching Buck and Taylor together for a whole night… well, he could think of a long list of things he’d rather do instead.

“Actually, I don’t think I can – I don’t know how it slipped my mind but, after my appointment, I promised Christopher that I’d spend the night with him…”

He felt bad using his own son, someone Buck loved dearly, as a shield, but it had to be done – Buck wouldn’t question anything if it was done for Chris’ benefit.

Buck’s smile strained, and there was a look in his eyes that Eddie couldn’t quite place. He dropped his gaze to the floor, and Eddie caught his lower lip between his teeth.

“Well, what about next Friday?”

“I can’t—”

“Man, I… Eddie, have I done something?” Buck interrupted; brows knit together in worry.

“Sorry?”

He looked vaguely embarrassed – and was that a pink tinge to his face? Surely not. No, Eddie was seeing things he wanted to see. He didn’t want to play that guessing game anymore, reading into every little interaction they shared, for some kind of sign. It was exhausting.

“It’s just… I don’t know, you’re a lot busier than before, maybe, but things are definitely… different. I—miss you,” he admitted sheepishly.

Clearly, this had been bothering him for a while now, and Eddie felt stupid and cruel for ever thinking that Buck wouldn’t notice that he was limiting their time together, even if only by a relatively small amount.

“Things are different,” Eddie explained carefully, trying to figure out his wording. “It makes sense that we, er, aren’t spending as much time together, because…”

Buck waved a hand.

“I know I’ve got Taylor now and you’ve got Ana, but that doesn’t mean that—”

“Buck, I ended things with Ana,” Eddie cut across impulsively.

There was an incredibly still moment that followed, and a tense quiet descended upon them, the only sounds the muffled comings and goings and odd background chatter from their other teammates. Buck’s lips parted and he appeared to be frozen as he slowly computed this information, and Eddie was almost scared to move – to break the spell.

It was getting alarming, and Eddie was about to wave a hand in front of his face, until finally he returned to reality, snapping back with a quiet and bemused, “Wait, you did what? … Why? You two seemed so happy. I thought you… that’s why…”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably, taking in a breath as he turned to properly face Buck again, making direct eye contact. Buck wet his lip, a crease forming in his brow. Eddie wanted nothing more than to know what was going through his mind, but he was at a loss this time. Usually, he could read him so well.

Eddie shrugged – an attempt in vain to still appear casual. He knew he was way beyond that point now.

“I realised she wasn’t the one for me. And… I know everyone says it, and us first responders more than anyone, and we still sometimes forget to actually live by it… but life really is too short to spend with the wrong person. I owed it to her, and to myself, to end it.”

Buck blinked rapidly, and, really, Eddie couldn’t understand why this was all coming as such a shock to him. Had he really expected he and Ana to go the distance? For him to settle down with her?

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

Then, the wailing of the siren pierced through the air; whatever question had formed in Buck’s mind would have to remain there, until another time.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Natasha Romanoff’s child

Natasha Romanoff x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Hi! Can I request a HC for being Natasha's daughter? I think you haven't done it ^^ In love with your work btw ;)”

natasha saved you from a terribly cruel family that worked alongside HYDRA, they didn’t care much for you

she decided to take you in since she knew you couldn’t have a normal life after all that you’d already been through at such a young age

“think it’d be okay if you came home with me, sweetheart?”

you were happy to have a nice person in your life

she took off work for a while to help you settle in

natasha wished that she had a loving family growing up, or just anyone to support her

so this was how she was going to make it up

“do you want to talk about anything?”

“when dad was alive he hurt people. i didn’t like the sound of it”

her heart broke hearing such a young child have to be affected by something like that

she made sure you knew how much she loved you

you called her “miss nat” for a while

take your child to work day!!!!

she took you to SHIELD HQ

you LOVED IT you wandered off and watched other ppl work

“agent romanoff, why is your child on agent coulson’s shoulders” -fury

“my child loves to feel like their flying”

“alright, you make a fair point”

nick called you “litte agent” which sparked your inspiration to become a spy like natasha

“miss nat, i wanna be a spy when i grow up!”

“you do? well, you can do that if it’s what you really want”

you suddenly switched from “miss nat” to “momma nat” and she had to backtrack for a minute

“what did you call me?” she was BEAMING omg

“...momma”

she gave u momma bear kisses

over the years, you taught yourself the ways of an agent and a spy, asking momma nat for a few pointers here and there

also uncle clint offered to give you some help

“yeah, kid, just point and shoot”

“clint, i said ‘self defense’ classes, not ‘the most effective ways to murder someone’ classes”

“they go hand in hand, nat, you know this”

“what if i was wanting to teach them myself?”

“well, do you?”

*pulls him aside* “as a birthday present”

you really did well during any sort of training

guess you just take after your mom

when you were old enough, you applied to SHIELD (under y/n l/n instead of y/n romanoff) and passed every test that was thrown your way

“you’re a natural, l/n”

“thanks, i learned from the best”

you wanted to earn respect on your own, so you didn’t tell anyone your relationship with nat

and anyone who did know you before knew not to say anything about it

it was also a good move bc it put a target on your backs if any of your enemies discovered you were family, you’d rather not share bad guys

✨the avengers thought you were awesome✨

“y/n, you are so much cooler than your mom”

“say it again and i’ll dislocate your shoulder!” :)

clint is so entertained by you

tony just loves messing w you

“baby spider in the house!”

“spider? where? shall i kill it?” -thor

“no, thor, we’re just teasing y/n”

“do not joke about spiders, stark. one day, i may not answer your cries because i’ll figure you’re just joking”

“that got serious fast”

nat forgets youre grown sometimes

so she gets all protective of you and then goes 😳 when you kick someones ass for yourself

that’s her kiddo!!

getting thrown into the midst of a few avenger battles

but handling yourself pretty well if i do say so myself

nat hugged you a lot when you were a kid and she still does now

only longer bc she doesn’t like letting go often

“mom? you okay?”

“i just wanted a hug is all”

“oh, okay”

when u hug her back she remembers exactly why she chose to become a mother

she wanted to show you that love still exists in this world, even if you’re not shown it immediately

become sort of a role model/mentor to newer, younger avengers

i mean, wanda was about your age, so she asked you often what it was like to be so young and work as an avenger

you told her that when you’re given a life like this, your age doesn’t matter out in the field. it’s your choices that matter. once you begin to learn the ways of a team like this and you gain each other’s respect, that’s all there is to it

“your mother is the black widow?”

“that she is, mom first, widow second”

PETER PETER PETER

he fanboyed over you so hard when he met you and he had so many questions it never ended

“okay, so first: how do you do it? be so cool as a kid?”

“you take a deep breath and kick some ass”

“better advice than anything mr. stark has ever said to me—don’t tell him i said that please!”

you swore to secrecy

mother/daughter spy missions bc that’s AWESOME

choosing steve’s side in CW and honestly making her very proud of you

going on the run w her and team cap

which made for some very interesting memories

“mom, sam hid the tv remote from me”

“take the widow’s bite and give him a little shock so that he’ll budge”

“thanks! love you!”

big runaway family <3

“i like the new look, mom”

“yeah, i thought blonde might be pushing it but i guess it all worked out in the end”

rogue avengers -> avengers once more

well, those of you who were left

after most of your friends passed in the snap, you and your mom were more attached than ever, she felt like she would die if the two of you separated

sooner or later, it was time to fix past mistakes and go back in time

“i’ll see you in a minute, y/n, be careful” *forehead kiss*

“i will.”

and that was the last time you ever saw her

you ran into clints arms and sobbed

“i’m so sorry, y/n. i tried to stop her. she told me to tell you she loved you and she’s so proud of you”

if that wasn’t bad enough, you were attacked by another thanos and you fought with all your might

“is y/n okay?”

“just let them fight, they need this”

finally, the fighting was over and the avengers were triumphant, but at what cost?

tony’s funeral was held before nat’s

but natasha’s was bittersweet

and every week you bring flowers to her memorial site

the world wont forget her name

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiant // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

[yodawgiherd]

End of an Era

It was fun while it lasted guys :)

>>>Read on AO3<<<

And one night, without any warning, the last piece of the puzzle came. The dream told her everything, ran over the entirety of her life, and when the old and wrinkled soldier Mikasa closed her eyes for the last time, she woke up with unshed tears brimming in the corners.

Next to her, the devil she decapitated slept peacefully, with no marks or scars under his eyes. She didn’t want to wake him yet, as there was another person Mikasa needed to talk to right now, so getting out of the bed carefully she located her phone.

“M-Mikasa?”, a yawn, “It’s four in the morning, why are you calling me?”

“I’m sorry Armin, I have to ask you something.”, Mikasa whispered, keeping her voice low not to wake Eren, “please…”

“Sure, just…” another yawn, this time even longer, “Give me a second so I can collect my brain from the dreamland.”

Mikasa could hear the phone being put down and then the rustling of bedding on the other side as Armin was most likely stretching and fully waking up. She waited patiently until he picked the device up again, speaking in a much clearer voice.

“Ok, I guess I’m functional now. What’s up?”

“In the book you are writing, does the main pairing gets a happy ending? Do they get together?”

“I… Uh… Is that why you woke me?”

“Armin, please. It’s important to me.”

In truth, the blond had no idea why Mikasa was suddenly so interested in the ending of his story. Sure, she read it during development and said that it was good, but there’s a difference between that and calling at four AM to grill him about the ending she didn’t get to see yet because Armin finished it about a week ago. Then again, her voice was completely serious and while Mikasa did like some fun pranks from time to time, this didn’t sound like one at all. So, following her wish, Armin gave her an honest answer.

“No, they don’t. The girl is forced to kill her love interest to save the world from him, but it's sort of bittersweet because their friends get to live a happy life after.”

There was a gasp on the other side as if he confirmed some of Mikasa’s suspicions.

“Why?”

“Well, people like angst, and giving everyone a happy ending is a bit of a cliché, no? I mean…”

“Why her though, wasn’t she the heroine?”

“Yes, but she can move on in time you know, forget about him and whatnot.”

There was a bit of silence on the other side before Mikasa spoke again, this time in a small and sad voice.

“Could you change it? Please, for me.”

“How?”

“Just make her happy…”

Running a hand through his sleep-tussled hair Armin puffed out air, turning the possibilities in his head. It wouldn’t be that hard to make Mikasa’s wish come true. He had a lot of supernatural going on in his book, monsters, and gods, a simple resurrection wouldn’t break the story. Plus it was rare to hear Mikasa beg like this, she was usually the “cool and stoic” type, and it tugged at Armin’s heart.

Hell, why not.

“All right, I’ll do it somehow.”

“You will?!”

“Yeah, but you’ll owe me one.”

There was happy and relieved laughter on the other side.

“Of course, I’ll do anything Ar, thank you so much!”

With a click, the call ended and Mikasa let out a long breath, rubbing the unshed tears from her eyes. It would seem that Armin wasn’t writing a story, more like remembering it, but unlike the one that happened this one would get a different ending.

Mikasa told Eren everything over breakfast, hugging a warm cup of coffee with both hands. He didn’t say anything while she spoke, just listened, his green eyes taking all of her in, both words and gestures. Only when she finished did he let out a long breath, one that felt like he was holding in for an eternity.

“This is a lot to take in.”, he said, “Especially at once.”

“I know…, you don’t have to believe me but…”

“I believe you. Every word.”

“Just like that?”

A firm nod.

“You believe it, and I see no reason why I should not. Past lives and other-universe memories can exist, it's not like the entire human psyche has been mapped.”

He looked away for a second.

“The Eren you described, he is so different than me, yet so terrifyingly similar in some aspects. I can sit here and say that I would never cause the apocalypse but in his place…? I just can’t know for sure.”

“I guess we are lucky that we don’t have to find out.”, Mikasa offered, “This life is so much better than whatever they went through...”

“For sure.”

“And that’s not all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I think I married someone… Jean maybe? Had kids with him too.”

“Oh my god.”, Eren threw an arm over his face dramatically, “Out of all people, why him?”

“I… I don’t know if it was him but….”

“Please Miki, I get that I died, and you wanted to move on, but didn’t your past life have any taste ?”

“Hey! Jean is nice.”

He peeked at her from under his arm.

“Nice huh?”

“Yea, nice. You know what, if you die I’m going to marry him here too.”

The fingers that were till now peacefully resting on her hip curved and dug into her flesh, a dangerous flash in the emerald that stared at her.

“You’re just trying to rile me, is that it?”

She fought the grin, not wanting it to reveal the joke.

“Maybe…”

However, Eren’s grip weakened as his face grew distant, the classic “philosophical” look entering his features.

“Would that be fair to him though? Jean is… okay I guess, and you treating him like an afterthought, a second choice? Not nice.”

Mikasa’s smile faltered when she realized that, and Eren was not even done with his speech.

“Then again, if I’ll be dead then I guess I have no agenda in telling you what to do. Plus I think I’d be happier if you moved on and had a family instead of mourning me forever. You are too young for that.”

These words hit way too close to Mikasa’s dream, and she could feel the sadness rising in the chest again. To battle it, she took hold of Eren’s chin and tugged it down until their lips were touching.

“Hey, not more talk about death, okay?”, she ordered, “I had enough of that while sleeping.”

“Yes ma’am.”

When she kissed him, Mikasa’s sadness melted away again, chased away by Eren’s warmth against her. Maybe her other self had to settle for something else, but not her. She was here and she had the love of her life right in her arms, in her bed, and she couldn’t be happier about it.

Eren mulled the facts over for a time, putting them together in his head. It was a nice day outside, and while he did all the math Mikasa simply watched him with a faint smile on her lips. It was almost noon when he came to her with a new question.

“So let me get this straight – I didn’t achieve anything In the end? My island was still nuked and the monsters…”

“Titans.”, Mikasa corrected him.

“Right, titans. Those are still around? Man, I guess I was turned into a clown at the end.”

She didn’t know how to disagree with any of those points.

“And the point of it all was nothing? That no matter how hard you struggle to save something you hold dear it will end up destroyed anyway?”

“It does sound hopeless when you put it like that.”

He snorted.

“Guess I was a certified clown then – oh well, now you see what zero pussy does to a motherfuc…”

“No, no, oh my god.”, Mikasa interrupted him, “Why do you keep making fun of it, I swear you are such a kid and…”

“W-What?”, Eren had trouble speaking because of the laughter, “It’s true! I died for nothing in your dream, I was a joke.”

“No… It wasn’t like that.”

“Take it as you will, but all my nightmares became reality and…”

Eren tapped the table a few times, most likely trying to wrap his head around it all.

“…you married Jean.”

“Well… yea, that was a bit weird.”

“Was it? I mean, the guy had a crush on you.”

She blinked at him.

“It was just a tiny one if there even was one at all.”

“Oh c’mon Miki,”, Eren’s grin was wide, “You couldn’t be that dense.”

“I-I mean…”

Jean? A crush? It reminded her of that night, not that long ago when she found out that most if not all of her female friends would like to have some sort of intimate experiments with her.

“Doesn’t matter.”, she blurted, “He’s a good friend, and I like him a lot, but not romantically!”

“He will be heartbroken…”

“He will?”

“Nah,”, Eren chuckled, “Jean got over it, he and Hitch are happy together, as far as I know.”

“That’s good, a crush is hardly a good base for a real-life relationship.”

“Then I guess we can be happy that you guys married in a dream only.”

“Indeed.”, she reached over the table to gently touch his face, “Here I have you.”

Eren mirrored her gesture, letting his thumb stroke the scar on Mikasa’s cheek.

“And I have you.”

“Forever.”

“Sadly.”

“What was that?”

“Oh nothing baby…”, a devilish grin, “Yes, forever.”

With her dreams done and finished it was time to return to civilization, to leave the cabin life behind. Eren told her that he got this, very courteously, most likely still worried about her mental state.

“Just take it easy,”, he said, kissing the top of her head, “I’ll pack.”

He did as he said, fighting with the baggage to the best of his ability. Mikasa was left to wander around aimlessly, and for whatever reason her steps took her to the big tree sitting there, overlooking a vast plain of grass. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air she leaned on the tree, but then her eyes caught sight of something that almost made her jump out of her skin.

There was a ghost sitting there, a ghost of her, dressed in a simple skirt and shirt, the scarf still around her neck. The apparition was about the same age Mikasa was, maybe a bit younger, but they looked almost the same. Her hair wasn’t short, it was long and pulled into a ponytail and there was no red highlight decorating it. The ghost looked up, her eyes meeting Mikasa’s, and a faint smile crossed her lips.

It was her perfect copy, down to the scar on the cheek - albeit the ghost’s was even more faded than hers, long years washing over it. She must have gotten her cut as a teenager. And there was also something about the eyes – it would be a lie to say that Mikasa had an easy life, but what she saw in the ghost’s eyes was something different altogether. The sitting girl saw hell and more, and it showed in her face.

“You are me.”, Mikasa finally pushed out.

The ghost looked at her curiously, tilting her head to the side.

“You… you can’t speak, can you?”

The ghost shook her head.

“I wonder why….”

The sitting girl shrugged, not understanding this any more than Mikasa did. She was just about to question her further when something else caught her attention. The ghost wasn’t sitting there on her own, there was something next to her – a tombstone with a very familiar name written on it.

Eren Yeager

Mikasa already had a suspicion, but this confirmed it – the sitting girl was the other Mikasa, the one she had dreams about, her past life. Following her eyes the ghost saw what she was looking at, her smile replaced by a look of deep longing. Gently, she caressed the stone, her eyes shining with tears.

“So the dreams were right, huh? You had to kill him.”

The ghost nodded solemnly.

“You saved the world, everyone, but you had to give the love of your life up.”

The apparition didn’t react, eyes trained at the cold tombstone.

“They say that if you love something, you should let it go.”, she told the ghost, “But I can’t do that….”

Looking over her shoulder at the man she loved so much, Mikasa let the words spill freely.

“I guess I’m selfish but I don’t want to lose this love we have, no matter what kind of symbolism it is. I want to wake up next to him every morning and spend ten minutes getting out of his hands because he holds me so tightly when we sleep. I want to see him yawn and wish him good morning and share a cup of coffee. I want him to be there for me when I come back so we can talk about our days and cuddle on the couch together…”

Her hands intertwined on the abdomen, gently stroking the fabric of her shirt.

“I want to have children with him, family, kids that will combine my and his looks and attitude. Is that selfish? Is that too much to ask? Is that…”

Lost in her speech Mikasa stumbled over the words and fell silent, letting out a short laugh after.

“I’m selfish and I don’t care. I’m never letting go simply because I don’t want to and damn everyone who disagrees with me. I deserve this, I deserve to be loved.”

As soon as those words left Mikasa’s lips she realized how insensitive those were towards her other self, the poor girl who, for all her bravery, for the act of saving the world itself – got nothing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”, she apologized to the sitting copy of herself, “I know that you never got to experience any of that with him.”

The ghost’s face fell and she buried her face to the scarf, eyes moving towards the headstone next to her. Seeing the longing written in her features, Mikasa couldn’t help but wonder.

“Did you… did you learn to let him go? Did you come to terms with his death?”

The pain in the girl’s eyes was all the answer Mikasa needed. It resonated within her, the suffering because she could imagine how it would feel. Maybe it was because she experienced it in her past life, maybe it was because of all these strange visions but she could do it and the pain and emptiness were terrible.

“This is not fair,”, she blurted, “You did everything you could, you saved the world and this was your reward? You’ve sacrificed… everything… and….”

She was crying now, Mikasa realized, her tears matching the ghost’s. Falling to her knees next to the girl she tried embracing her only to realize that she can’t touch a figment of her imagination.

“I’m so sorry for how the universe treated you, you deserved more, so, so much more….

More flashes- this time of a child, a faceless husband, grandkids too.

“This, all that… Did it make you happy?”

The ghost girl gave her a small enigmatic smile, and Mikasa realized one thing. It wasn’t for her to know – maybe she was happy with the other family, maybe she wasn’t, that would remain an enigma.

“But still, you kept visiting his grave,”, Mikasa’s eyes moved over to the headstone and the flowers there, “You never let his memory fade.”

A nod from the other girl.

“Still, it wasn’t fair to you. You could have been, no, should have been so much more…”, this time the raven’s eyes moved to where her Eren was, “You deserved to have a happy future with him too.”

“Yet you didn’t, and I did – you got the pain and I have the rewards you fought for. I swear, I will not let it go to waste.”

Standing up, she offered her hand to the ghost.

“Please, come with me, experience all that you bled for, struggled for so much. Let me show you how the love you wanted feels in full bloom.”

But the girl didn’t move, simply looking at her. And that was when Mikasa realized….

“… you don’t have to come with me because you are already here. You are me, I am you, we are the same person.”

It was strange, realizing that this was her- this old, tired soldier, a woman broken by a war Mikasa couldn’t even comprehend. A tragic hero who sacrificed her greatest love for the greater good, being left with nothing but a memory. A girl who was thrust into a cruel world and treated unfairly, no matter how hard she tried to change it, to save those she held dear. Tears in the corners of her eyes, Mikasa clenched her fists.

Not anymore.

Now there was no war, no titans, no apocalypse over their heads. Eren wouldn’t go to commit a global genocide to save his country, only to have it destroyed anyway. She wouldn’t marry another man and have children with him, bring her family to his grave, and plant flowers with pain in her heart. No.

Mikasa wasn’t a soldier anymore – she was an MMA fighter, a professional athlete, a model. Her life wasn’t filled with a constant struggle for survival. It was dreamy- filled with everything she could wish for, whatever it was spending her time with friends, goofing around with Eren, or training her pole dancing. She didn’t care for horses or sharpen her blades.

Eren wasn’t a hopeless maniac, driven to war by the sheer necessity of survival – he was a doctor, a surgeon, helping people in need not killing them.

Most importantly they were together – an engaged couple that loved each other so much that they couldn’t put it into words correctly. No tragedy would befall them.

Keeping her hand outstretched, Mikasa talked to the ghost again.

“We are one, but I am the lucky part of us, of me. I am love, I am the nights and lazy mornings spent in bed, I am all the kisses and hugs. You are my sadness, my sacrifice, my longing and pain, my unfulfilled and tragic fate.”

She stretched her fingers closer to the girl.

“Please, take my hand and experience it all with me, learn that there is beauty in this cruel world.”

Not hesitant anymore, the ghost held her hand towards Mikasa.

When their fingers made contact a chill ran down her spine and she gasped, blinking several times. The girl was gone, so was the grave, only the tree remained and gently swayed in the wind. And in her heart, in her soul, Mikasa felt different – different yet same because now she knew everything and the pain in her heart resonated.

It would always be a part of her, or rather it always was, but Mikasa wasn’t feeling down because of it. Now she knew that she had to feel everything, every touch and happy emotion that she experienced with him because it was what her past died for. If anything the full realization of her suffering made Mikasa appreciate it even more – she was living this life not only now but for the past too.

He was her Eren, she was his Mikasa, and in this world, nothing would tear them apart. And the tears the began to appear in her eyes did nothing to deny that fact.

“Miki? Why are you crying, what’s wrong?”

Refusing to answer Mikasa crossed the distance and hugged him, burying her face into Eren’s chest. Understanding that she didn’t want words now he stroked her back patiently, waiting for her to come back to him.

“Eren, you won’t ever leave me, will you?”

“Never.”

“I mean, I couldn’t do it even if wanted to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I love you anymore, it’s more like fascination, adoration maybe.”

“…Eren…”

“Hell, I’d do anything to stay with you, you want me to bark for you? Cause I will..”

Despite her sad mood, Mikasa felt the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Stop, come on.”

Ignoring that, he pressed his face into her hair, a quiet bark leaving his lips.

“Woof.”, he nuzzled her gently, “There, I did it.”

She giggled at that and Eren smirked, glad that he made her smile because that was his mission in life – making the beautiful angel he was, for some reason blessed by, happy.

It made her reflect on the whole story, now that she had it whole. Eren kept silent while Mikasa was deep in thought, his fingers gently stroking her hipbone in small soothing circles. In her mind, she recalled as much as she could, brought it together and….

Mikasa took a shuddering breath.

“It makes no god damn sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“The whole story, It… it doesn’t add up at all. You dying for nothing, me moving on so quickly I… The whole world….”

She was pouting now, that adorable expression that made Eren want to kiss it right off of her face, but he held himself back. Mikasa was talking.

“It had such a nice build-up, but in the end, it collapsed completely. I don’t understand why….”

“Well, that is the thing with dreams.”, he mumbled next to her, “They often don’t make much sense once we wake up.”

“But still..”

“Mikiiiiiiiiii…”, unable to resist her cuteness anymore, he pressed a string of soft kisses all over her face, turning that pout into a breathless giggle, “Stop overthinking dreams so much.”

Grabbing her hand he intertwined their fingers, raising it so the sun slid over their skin. It highlighted the contrast between them, how his tanned shade complimented her pale one, just as perfectly as they completed one another in life.

“This. This is important.”, he said, “This is real. You may be a broken titan slayer in your dreams, but here you are… well, still a titan slayer but one that is happy… I think.”

His voice got even deeper when he directed his question right at her.

“Are you happy with me?”

Mikasa was nodding her head before she even realized what was happening.

“Yes. Gods yes, I couldn’t be happier.”

“See?”, the flash of white teeth revealed his grin, “Then focus on that. Here, in this world, I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

“That might be a very long time Yeager, are you sure that you want to do that to yourself?”

“As if I had a choice.”, his fingers danced over her hip, “You bound me to yourself with black magic, remember?”

“Good to see that you remember that. My Dark Knight.”

The kiss Eren gave her was interlaced with a smile, and it was one of the sweetest Mikasa ever got in her life. He was right, after all, her dreams, past self, it was a tragedy that befell her, but it was so jumbled at the end that she had a hard time taking it seriously. The “ending” of her past didn’t make sense, no matter how much she tried to see the point of it. It all looked like such a tragedy, but in the end…. was it maybe a comedy? A twisted image where all the sacrifice and pain they went through amounted to nothing? Where several characters were made to be worthless, and their struggle amounted to nothing? A parody of a terrible conflict that couldn’t be solved by anything else by an annihilation?

But... why dwell on it?

She had this- this life, this Eren, and this happiness that they built together, and she loved every second of it.

And there was nothing else that the past could show her anymore.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“You sure? Didn’t forget anything?”

Mikasa looked at the tree where the conversation with the ghost took place, smiling. Tightening her hold on Eren’s hand, she felt more content than ever before, finally having an explanation and ending for her nightmares. It all made sense, and she would live her life to the fullest with the love of her life – not only for herself but for the other Mikasa too. She deserved to experience it, every second of it. After all, they were one and the same.

“Yes. I have all I need right here with me.”

[wondernimbus]

home — george weasley

pairing: george weasley x female!reader

prompt: after the battle of hogwarts, reader comes across a familiar face in paris and finds that he, too, needs healing.

T/W: brief mentions of death & blood, trauma, recovery, angst w/ a happy ending

a/n: i have never been to paris n have no idea what it’s like and it SHOWS but anyways .. please be mindful of the trigger warnings before reading!

The battle of Hogwarts left many people wounded.

It left behind marks of fractured bones and countless bruises from all sorts of dark curses and nasty jinxes; injuries that took a while to heal, but did, in the end, as most do. But while there were wounds that were temporary—those that faded and healed eventually—there were also those that didn't. Some scars stayed; the kind that were brought about by the pain of loss. Of trauma. Of witnessing death and destruction and carnage in the very walls the students of Hogwarts had come to call home.

They were children. Teenagers. They were young and barely even knew the workings of the world, but that hardly mattered because the wizarding world was at stake—and everyone who knew how to hold a wand had to fight. Including them. And even though they were supposed to be at school worrying about homework and petty things like crushes or which tie went with which shirt, instead they had to worry about far greater things; they had to worry about their lives and that of their friends, of their families. They had to fight in the crumbling stone corridors of what was once the Hogwarts castle, watching people die both because of them and for them, trying to ignore the bodies strewn across the ground in fear of finding a familiar face.

No one walked out of the battle unchanged, and just like so many others, [Y/N]—twenty-year-old [Y/N], who once dreamed of becoming a Healer but could no longer look at blood without hyperventilating and recalling memories of battle—returned home not quite the person she once used to be. She walked through her front porch and greeted her five-year-old sister with a poor attempt at a smile that only lasted for a few seconds before she'd started crying again.

Because, like every other child who'd fought that battle, she'd returned home bearing the burden of having killed someone. Of having failed to save a friend. Of having watched walls crumble in on people her age and some even younger who had so much life ahead of them but had it torn away in the blink of an eye.

She could have been one of them. She really could have.

But there she was, alive but not quite feeling like it, crumpling to her knees in front of her little sister as she hugged her as close to her as she could.

I killed someone, she wanted to say. They could have been someone's sister, just like you.

"Did you miss me?" were the words that left her mouth instead. And it was worth it—keeping thoughts like that to herself—because when her little sister pulled away, smiling, eyes gleaming with youthful innocence, [Y/N] believed that maybe, maybe there was a little sanity in this world left that she could hang onto.

Because the scars those memories leave behind aren't permanent. Nothing is, really—they just take a much longer time to heal. Those kinds of scars need patience and gentleness and comfort. Need understanding. Space. But most importantly, they need time.

So that's what [Y/N] gives herself. Time and space away from everything around her that reminds her of things she'd rather leave in the past. She finds herself traveling, even though her parents were against it at first—"You can barely even make your own food, honey, are you sure about this?"—they'd understood, in the end, that [Y/N] couldn't bear waking up in a place where everything held memories of war. The owls would come in the morning bearing news of recovery and rebuilding and those bloody obituaries. She'd made the mistake of looking at them once, only for her eyes to quickly land on a face she'd fought alongside during the battle. Some young Gryffindor boy no older than seventeen who wrenched her out of the way when a column had collapsed.

Colin Creevey.

That was his name, apparently, according to the cursive underneath his picture right next to the words may you rest in peace.

It took her a while to calm down after that. But the panic attacks always came. Her little sister once made the mistake of trying to surprise her once, by hiding behind her bedroom door and jumping out when she walked through it. [Y/N] had screamed, fallen to the floor, and started crying, and it frustrated her because she wasn't sure why but there was that horribly familiar, inexplicable feeling inside her chest that squeezed the breath right out of her and the tears along with it.

Even looking outside of her room window reminded her of Hogwarts' own stained glass windows. Of the sound they'd made when they shattered once hit by a curse gone astray. Of the fear she'd felt when Acromantulas crawled their way in through the window frames and devoured anyone in reach. Of all the blood.

The death. The screams.

She couldn't take it, so she left. it would take a while for her to come back—to heal—but she would. She knew she would.

— 

Paris is beautiful at night.

[Y/N] sits on a ledge overlooking the cityscape and watches the sun dip below the buildings.

Sitting so far up above everything else and not weaving through the stone alleyways, it looks different from here. Like a toy city. Tiny buildings sturdily built and easily moved. Sometimes it feels like she's on top of the world, towering over everything else as she watches the scene unfold before her like a moment frozen in time with the sunset reflected in her eyes. And sometimes they'd be filled with tears, but today they aren't.

In a city where everything is constantly moving, it's easy to forget things. Easy to lose herself in the bustling streets and the friendly people and the music that seems to come from everywhere she goes, always hanging in the air, the source unknown.

But when it's quiet—when she has no one but her thoughts for company and she sits away from everything else with her heart lodged in her throat and memories trickling back in despite her efforts to keep them locked away—that's when she remembers.

The blood. The death. The screams.

All the lives lost. The lives she couldn't save. The lives she took.

But she is healing.

It hurts, still. Of course it does. She doesn't think the pain really ever will go away, but it should, to an extent. And it will happen.

It will. She knows it will.

— 

When she comes across him—the boy with the smile like the sunrise and eyes like the stars, like diamonds in the sky, [Y/N] doesn't know right away what he will come to mean to her in the future.

She sits in a pub hidden somewhere along the cobblestone streets away from the main city. The bartender knows her by now, and she him; an old Muggle with a toothless grin and a kind voice. The first time she'd walked through the wooden door a few weeks ago he'd tried to ask her about her life—what she was doing in Paris, how she was liking it so far—the same way he would do to any traveler, but [Y/N] hadn't had much to tell him aside from the same story she'd practiced so many times before; that she was on vacation.

The Muggles buy it all the time. It's at times like those that [Y/N] is grateful for their obliviousness, and in a way, she finds comfort in how little they know. How they don't know about You-Know-Who, about the war, about everything that had happened mere months ago. Because it makes it easier for her to forget.

Until the wooden door to the pub opens and a familiar face walks through it, and [Y/N] is hit by reality again.

He doesn't notice her, at first, and strides straight to the bar. [Y/N] wonders if she's hallucinating—if somehow her mind has had enough of her pushing old memories aside and started making things up as a reminder of the past. But he's standing there and he's smiling at the bartender, who slides a tall glass of beer over the counter-top towards him.

"Thank you," [Y/N] hears him say, and then he's turning around and before she knows it they've made eye contact from where she's sitting in the corner of the room. A flicker of surprise crosses his face, and for a moment all the two of them do is stare at each other, both seemingly in just as much disbelief as the other.

[Y/N] does what's appropriate: she raises her hand in a wave.

Still looking incredulous, George Weasley's mouth falls open a little in what is probably a dubious laugh if [Y/N] were close enough to hear it. And then he's striding towards her table, sliding into the seat opposite her still looking pleasantly surprised.

"[Y/F/N], was it?" George asks her, and his eyes are still alight with wonderment.

She smiles at him. Nods. Wonders if he's thinking—remembering—the same things she is. "I didn't think I'd come across anyone I knew here."

"Can't say I was expecting to, either." He doesn't look like he is; he's grinning. But then again [Y/N] is too, and for a brief second she realizes once more how easy it is to pretend like everything is okay.

And judging by the look in George's eyes, he hasn't forgotten either. But they are so far away from Hogwarts. From home. From the remnants of war. So she decides not to address it, and even though it is unsaid, George decides to do the same.

She went to school with George. Just like everyone else at Hogwarts, she'd known him and his twin brother for their troublemaking antics, but to call them friends would be a bit of an overstatement; [Y/N] was a Hufflepuff and George a Gryffindor, and apart from the few classes they had together, she rarely ever had a chance to speak to him. But in the rare times that she did, she could tell that George was sweet and kind and certainly very witty. He would have made a good friend, if [Y/N] had been given the chance.

But they don't ask each other why they're there, thousands of miles away from England, because in a way they already know. So instead the pair of them talk about anything and everything else. About Paris. has [Y/N] been to the Eiffel tower yet? Yes, duh—it's the first place she went to. How was it? It was breathtakingly beautiful. George tells her that he thought so too, and asks her if she's heard of the festival next week. She tells him he hasn't and George tells her that he'd love to accompany her there if she wants to go.

And admittedly, part of [Y/N] wonders whether it would be better to turn him down. She could walk out of this pub and leave George Weasley, who brings back memories that she'd rather forget at the moment, behind, but the courageous part—the part of her that still takes chances and waits to see where they take her—nods and says, with a soft smile on her face, "I'd love that."

Come midnight, the pub closes and [Y/N] and George are practically kicked out, a little intoxicated but not enough to be drunk, waving exaggeratedly enthusiastic goodbyes to the barkeep who grins toothily right back at them.

They find themselves standing outside of the pub, faces dimly illuminated with orange from the street lamps lining the streets. George, with his hands shoved into his coat pockets, asks her where she's staying.

She tells him the name of the hotel she's been living at, and the smile on George's face is downright joyful. "Lucky me. I'm staying at a hotel not far from there," he tells her, grinning, and she can't help but grin right back at him.

And it feels like the proper time to be saying their goodnights and apparating away, but before she does, she finds a tiny sliver of bravery in her to address what has been looming above the pair of them since the moment they spoke to each other tonight. In a quiet, almost hesitant voice, like she's treading on thin ice, she says, "I heard about your brother." Her eyes are downcast, staring down at the stone underneath her feet. "I'm sorry about what happened to him. I truly am."

George falls silent. When [Y/N] brings her eyes back up to look at him, she almost, almost cries, because there's a pain in his eyes that [Y/N] has seen far too many times in the mirror. But he's smiling, anyway, and that just makes it all the more worse because there is nothing that hurts more in the world than pretending like everything is just as it should be when it's not.

In a quiet voice, he says, "I'm here for the same reason you are. I'm here to heal. To move on." Even under the dim lighting, [Y/N] sees the way he swallows like there's a lump in his throat. "And when I have, I'll head back home and pick right back up where I left off. But right now I'm just a twenty-year-old English bloke in Paris who's just come across a beautiful woman and wants to know if she'd be interested in spending the night with him in the city."

So maybe it's not quite time to say their goodnights. Not just yet.

[Y/N] smiles at him, with his smile like the sunrise and his eyes like the stars, and says, "Lead the way."

— 

George Weasley, [Y/N] learns, is a man of many charms.

George knows how to crack jokes when needed, how to make her laugh. George knows how to make her feel comfortable but not so much that he oversteps his boundaries. George always seems to know what to say and when to say it. But perhaps most importantly, George knows how to help her do the one thing she finds the most difficulty in doing: forget.

So in turn she does the same for him, and not much later than their opportune meeting at the pub hidden away from the city, they become friends. Or something more than it. What they are, [Y/N] really isn't quite sure, but all she knows is that she's found something in him that she wouldn't have if she'd decided to turn him down a month ago—and good grief, is she happy she didn't.

Because if she had, then she would have never learned that George likes his coffee sweet, with three cubes of sugar and lots of milk. She would have never learned that he has a fascination with anything related to electricity and only just barely suppresses his excitement whenever the pair of them would come across some form of Muggle technology he hadn't been aware of before. [Y/N], who is Muggle-born and is far too used to the "ordinary" world, finds amusement in his enthusiasm. (He damn near faints with excitement in his seat the one time [Y/N] drags him off to the movie theater to see a film.) [Y/N] also learns that George finds joy in poetry—something that comes quite as a shock to her, as he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would. But on a night out by one of the canal bridges, he turns to her and starts reciting something by Hamlet—"Have you heard of him? Old Muggle bloke, apparently, I think he's dead but he was quite good with words"—and [Y/N] stares at him, incredulous, and bursts out laughing.

"Well, aren't you romantic?" she teases, grinning, eyes curving when she smiles. "Reciting poetry on a night out in Paris. Really very touching."

George puffs out his chest, all pompous and suddenly very snooty. [Y/N] is laughing again, because she's started to do it a lot ever since they'd met. "What can I say?" says George. Judging by the slight smile on his face as he stares at [Y/N], he's pleased with her reaction to his antics. "I'm quite a passionate man."

George has a smile like the sunrise and eyes like the stars and a laugh that reminds [Y/N] of sun rays and clear skies. And it's odd because when she'd first seen him at that pub, she was instantly reminded of the war, but the more time she spends with him the more he reminds her of quite the opposite. George reminds her of a time in her life when she was at peace—when she was a young girl who didn't have to worry about blood on her hands and guilt on her shoulders.

But George, she knows, has worries of his own. And just like her, he's good at hiding them, until he chooses not to anymore.

— 

Two people alone in Paris who have gone through so much and lost so many. Two people who have found something that feels like peace in one another after everything they have been through.

George and [Y/N], who look at one another when they think the other isn't looking to admire the way the light catches in their hair. The curve of their throat. The way their eyes crinkle when they smile.

And it's only a matter of time before they finally find it in themselves to venture further into what has formed between them over the past three months they've been together, and before they know it they are kissing, gentle and slow and a little hesitant in [Y/N]'s hotel room, standing out by the balcony with that tiny city below them and the stars hanging above them.

[Y/N] learns that George's lips are even softer than they look. She learns that he kisses with a closed mouth. She learns that he is slow and intimate when he pulls her into bed, and she learns that he has truly come to value her when he asks her tentatively if she is sure she wants this.

[Y/N] learns, that night, just how easy it is to fall in love, how little effort it takes. How, the moment she tells him that yes, George, I want you and makes that brave decision to surrender herself to that almost constricting feeling inside her chest and she lets herself fall, that is all she has to do—fall. And let her heart do the rest.

Touching George's skin feels like falling into oblivion, and [Y/N] lets herself spiral down into him.

Come midnight, the two of them are still awake but only barely. George has his arm tucked underneath his head and the other on her waist, and [Y/N] with her head on his chest, arm draped across his stomach as she stares up at him, eyes dancing over the planes of his face like she's trying to memorize them.

There is a necklace around George's neck. [Y/N] can recall catching glimpses of the chain, but never of the pendant. She acknowledges it now, when the adrenaline in her has died out and is replaced by a drowsy sort of calm, by reaching out a hand to run her thumb across what looks like the metal arrow.

"This mean anything?" she whispers, and in the dim moonlight streaming through the window she makes out a picture at the base of the arrow.

She feels George tense underneath her, and knows the moment the light catches on the picture—the face imprinted on it—what exactly it means to him.

"Fred," she whispers, and it's not a question.

It takes him a while, but she feels more than sees him nod. And his voice is tight, riddled with emotion, but he gets his words out anyway and [Y/N] appreciates it, because she knows that talking about it hasn't gotten any easier. But he still does, because he trusts her enough and he has grown braver over time, and some of his wounds have begun to stitch themselves back together, even by a little bit.

"We have a clock back at home," he tells her, and his words stick in his throat for a second as he takes in a deep breath. His grip on her waist grows firmer, like he needs something to hang onto, and [Y/N] lets herself be an anchor to him. "It's got all of my family's faces on each hand. No numbers—just whereabouts. Work. Home. School. Garden. When we came back home after the battle, we found Freddy's on the ground."

Something wet lands on [Y/N]'s cheek. George has started crying.

"It fell off the clock," he whispers. [Y/N]'s heart breaks. "When he died."

And then [Y/N] is sitting up, gathering him into her arms despite him being broad-shouldered and so much bigger than her. At the moment he doesn't seem like it. Right now he is a boy who grieves the loss of his twin brother, and [Y/N] aches for him.

She knows far too well that no words will ever be able to soothe the pain, no matter who they come from. So all she does is hold him as close to her as she can, pressing comforting little kisses to the top of his head, his forehead, his cheeks, which are wet with tears.

Eventually, George falls asleep—or at least she thinks so, until she hears him whisper, just when the moon is beginning to disappear below the horizon, "Thank you."

Holding George in her arms feels like holding a promise, and seeing him lit softly by the final traces of moonshine, she thinks she might be able to keep it.

— 

But even still, part of her can’t help but fear that she might not mean as much to George as he has begun to mean to her.

When she wakes in the morning and finds that the other side of the sheets is empty, panic seizes her lungs and she scrambles out of bed.

Only to find that he is in the bathroom, washing his face, cheeks flushed pink from having just woken up.

But all it took was that one brief moment to realize how terribly big her bed is, and how cold, and how horribly empty without George to fill it.

And even though she knows fully well that George isn't the kind to make love and leave, she is still scared. Still a little uncertain. So she seeks reassurance, and her eyes shining with hopefulness, asks him to stay.

George, with his smile like the sunrise and his eyes like the stars, says—no—promises, "Of course I will."

—

When the two of them find the courage to come back to England many months later, it seems they've found a new kind of home—the kind that isn't made of walls or doors or windows but the kind that's built on promises.

Promises of healing. Promises that the two of them will bear the pain of the past together, and move through it together in baby-steps that may seem tiny but take a lot of courage.

And when George slides his fingers through the gaps in between hers as they apparate away, and the two of them leave behind Paris and return to England with scars that have faded but still remain, [Y/N] thinks, for the first time in a long time, that things might turn out to be okay.

[rwby-necro-au-archive]

This is an intervention, old man.

A soft chiming sound was heard through the rather large room.

Ozpin recognized the chiming, but it didn’t occur to him what was different about the chiming. He had clocks that chimed all throughout the house.

Groggily, he opened his hazelnut eyes turned his head to the clock.

Wait. He wasn’t in his office anymore.

He shot up out of the bed and looked around frantically. “Just our room. Dear lord I shouldn’t scare myself like that.” Ozpin sighed in relief, but, how did he even get up here?

Ozpin slowly got up out of bed, he was still in the same clothes as he was before he blacked out, but it had a more significant meaning than just that. “Oh. That’s why.”

Qrow must’ve found him passed out in his office and carried him up here. Makes sense as to why he wouldn’t change Oz’s clothes, poor man can’t handle him even shirtless.

He searched around the room, looking for new clothes and a few other things. He had work to do, hopefully he didn’t sleep for too long. As he was getting everything he needed for the day, he happened to catch a glimpse at the clock.

The tiny box had shown the time and the date. Not only was it noon, but it was 3 days after he passed out. “Bloody hell, I didn’t think I’d have slept that long!” He smacked his forehead in response. Now the council was really going to be on his ass for not working for 3 days! Although, it was strange, no nightmares once throughout that entire time. Quite unlike him.

Shaking away the growing confusion of the lack of nightmares, he rushed down the stairs, completely oblivious to the 11 people sitting in his living room, and to his office.

To which he found locked. Stunned, Ozpin mumbled “Who?—“

“Me.” A familiar gravely, and displeased, voice spoke from behind him. “I knew you were gonna try that and so I had Oscar lock the door from the inside.” He could hear the causal shrug in his voice.

Ozpin sighed, not out of anger, not of irritation, not even out of annoyance. But rather a knowing sound, knowing he was about to face a battle he was going to lose. For a moment he thought back to the situation in his office days prior, he was lucky to win that one.

As he turned around and walked down the hall, his initial thought of loss was solidified. Ozpin cleared his throat slightly “I see you’ve brought everyone.” He avoided eye contact. He almost felt as if he were his younger self all over again, being scolded by his dad for overworking himself. It honestly wasn’t all that different.

“I suppose you all are here to scold me for my actions of working myself too hard?” Ozpin dipped his head slightly and looked further to the right, taking more interest in the floorboards than the people in front of him. “Wow ok, apparently the part we thought was going to be the hardest was the easiest.” Another familiar, feminine, voice sounded in surprise. Glynda.

He arched an eyebrow and looked up slightly at her, she gave a smirk in response “You, dear Mr. I-overwork-myself-daily-and-never-admit-it-and-went-to-far-this-time, just admitted you have been overworking yourself.” She finished with a smile

Oh. He hadn’t even realized he said that. Although he supposed that even a small part of himself agreed he shouldn’t.

“Are any of you gonna tell him that’s not the only thing we’re here to talk about or do I have to?” Ruby questioned, crossing her arms and pouting a little in the process.

Ozpin smiled gently at her reaction, “My dear, I think you just did.” He said gently

Her eyes widened slightly “Oh. Well fine, I guess I did. But no, that’s not even what we were originally here for.” Every word was laced with a matter of fact attitude, one that only came from Ruby when she needed it to. But she never did it often.

“So, what’s the original reason you all are here?” He spoke quietly as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Therapy.” Now it was Clover’s turn to speak as he shrugged. “You uh, gotta go to it.” he nodded.

His face morphed into confusion “What? What do you mean?”

The group looked at each other with annoyed expressions. They all looked back at Oz before speaking at once.

“Go to therapy Oz.” They all said, deadpanned and thoroughly annoyed.

Ozpin attempted to speak a “W-what? I—“ before he was interrupted.

“Go to therapy.” The group repeated.

He tried once more to speak “I don’t—“ once again he was promptly interrupted.

“Oh my god literally go to therapy old man. You need it. You aren’t gonna win this argument.” Yang complained.

He was stunned into silence. He started considering his options, he had promised Qrow Glynda and even Oscar that he would go, but he was also fearful of the medical implications and environments that came with going to one.

Before he could think further, a familiar specter, one he had forgotten that he had neglected to even speak to for 3- almost 4 -week, had floated up to him and held his face with a worried expression.

Oscar spoke while patting his dad’s cheeks “Papa need help. Help not bad, r’member?” He hugged Ozpin after he finished.

That’s right, he did remember. He always taught Oscar that it was never a bad thing to ask for help. What kind of a man would he be if he didn’t follow his own words of advice.

Yang was right, his original thought, was right. He wasn’t going to win this battle, he was too tired, and at this point, he himself was starting to question if he needed it. And so he bit back his excuses for once.

“Okay. I’ll go.” He said softly as he patted Oscars head.

The group cheered and thanked Oz, but did threaten him slightly if he didn’t follow through on his promise.

Qrow laughed as he put a hand on Oz’s shoulder “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure he goes. I fought him tooth and nail to get him to not overwork himself I think I can handle this too.” He smiled as he looked up at the taller man “Now then, I made food using your recipe book, so you all go eat.” He shooed the kids away as they laughed.

Ozpin was happy they were happy, but still unsure of his decision, still unsure of how mad Qrow was at him. “So, what’s it like?” He said quietly, barely above a whisper.

“Hm? Therapy?” Qrow asked, looking back at him.

“Yeah.”

Qrow shrugged “Well, it sucks at first, a lot of old feelings get unburied and can leave you feeling like hell. But it gets better with time. Plus, you’ve got everyone here looking out for you.”

Ozpin simply nodded in response.

“For the record,” Qrow started as he looked at Oz sternly “You can tell the council that your boyfriend and son said that they don’t give a damn how much work you have. You need to be with your family, and You need to be physically AND mentally healthy.”

Ozpin chuckled “I will, you always had an interesting way with words.” He complimented. “Although,” Ozpin started.

Qrow raised an eyebrow “Although?” He asked.

“I do still think I deserve to make it up to everyone, starting with you.” He finished as he looked at Qrow.

Qrow scoffed gently and shook his head “Y’know Ozzy, you’re already making it up to me and the others by simply going.”

“Ah.” Ozpin said, ever so slightly disappointed.

“Buuuut” Qrow tapped a finger to his chin, faking pensiveness as he leaned against Oz. “If you really wanna make it up to me. Then tomorrow, 5:30 pm, the Beacon diner, call it a date~” he smirked slyly up at Oz.

Ozpin’s face flushed to a bright pink as he stumbled over his words at the request “a-ah.” He managed to stumble out.

Qrow snicked at his reaction “Awe, poor Ozzy still can’t handle his own boyfriend asking him on a date, how cute~” Qrow teased

“Of course not, not when it’s you asking.” Ozpin mumbled in protest as he rubbed the back of his neck. He cleared his throat and stood up straight “But yes, I can do that. Formal or casual clothes?” He asked, cheeks still dusted a subtle pink

Qrow shivered before answering “Eugh, Casual, I’ve seen you in your work clothes for too many weeks now. Take a shower.”

“Ah….of course love.” Ozpin rubbed the back of his neck again.

“…I missed that.” Qrow said quietly.

Ozpin raised an eyebrow “missed what?”

“This.” He gestured up and down at Oz. “The causal clothes, the nicknames, seeing you happy and smiling, actually seeing you.”

He looked sorrowfully at Qrow “I’m sorry love.” He decided to add one more part to that “I won’t ever do that again. To you, to Glynda, Oscar, the kids, Clover, everyone. I promise.”

Qrow perked up slightly at the last part, “…Really?”

He smiled as he tilted his head “I’m not a man who breaks or makes promises very often, am I?”

Qrow smiled, “Nah. Not ever really, on the breaking part.”

He turned around and looked at the table “Now, let’s go eat you tall ass man.”

Ozpin elbowed him gently as he walked past “You love my height and you know it!”

Qrow scoffed and gave a mischievous look before saying loudly for everyone to hear “SO ABOUT THAT DATE—“.

“SHUT UP.” Ozpin said through gritted teeth and a red face as the group laughed.

Ozpin crossed his arms “You are terrible!”

“What was that you said earlier “you love it and you know it”? Qrow smiled slyly.

Ozpin rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, you are such a brat.”

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

fought on your side long before you were born

Fandom: Kamen Rider, Batman, Kamen Rider W Characters: Hongo Takeshi, Tachibana Tobei, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Hidari Shoutaro, Philip, Damian Wayne Song: "Father to Son," Queen (playlist here)

1977

Tachibana’s got a shop now, something he can use to support his family now that he isn’t traveling, and the first thing that greets Takeshi as he walks in is the thick smell of motor oil. There’s a bike in pieces at one end of the shop floor around which several young men are clustered, arguing cheerfully. Another young man is sitting in a corner near them, inexplicably playing acoustic guitar and responding briefly whenever he’s addressed. It’s new, but it feels like home, and Takeshi can feel his shoulders instinctively relaxing.

“Hongo!” Tachibana himself emerges from the shop office, beaming. “When’d you get back to Japan?”

“Just now, I came right here.”

“Damn right you did.” There’s some hugging and back-slapping and general affectionate ribbing, and then Tachibana says, “So what do you think? Nice place, right?”

“It’s wonderful. How’s your son?”

“Healthy as a horse, running me and Mari ragged.” Tachibana gestures to the huddle of young men at the other end of the room. “Plenty of help around here, though.”

Takeshi grins. “I can see that. Who’s the one with the guitar?”

“Oh, him? American kid. Funny story, really, I’m closing up one day when this young guy just materializes—no, not literally, he’s just real quiet—and asks, am I Tachibana Tobei? Only Dr. Jin in Madrid says I’m the best in the world and will I teach him about motorcycles! And he hands me a letter of introduction from Keisuke!” Tachibana sounds like he’s holding back laughter. “So he’s renting our spare room at the house and working here for a few months. Quick study, too. Shiro taught him guitar, he’s in town for a bit and they hit it off. Here, come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

They head over to the disassembled motorcycle, and the young men fall all over themselves to be introduced, which Takeshi bears with good cheer. They’re young, of course they’re enthusiasts.

The American boy is last, and Takeshi is shocked to realize that he is a boy, no more than eighteen or nineteen, a pale youth with blue eyes and a lonely look that reminds Takeshi of Shiro. No wonder they get along. He sets his guitar aside and bows, stiff and solemn, and says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hongo. Mr. Tachibana talks about you a lot.”

“That I do! Hongo, this is Bruce Wayne, he’s the summer guest I was telling you about.”

“Good to meet you, Wayne. Your accent is excellent.” The boy’s got a firm handshake. “What brings you to Japan?”

“Study, sir,” but the boy’s tone says that’s not all of it. “I’m trying to learn all I can. Maybe I could ask you a few things later, if you don’t mind.”

Takeshi blinks. “Not sure what you’d want to ask, but I don’t see why not.”

--

He eats dinner at Tachibana’s house that evening, because of course Tachibana isn’t going to let him get away unfed his first night back in town. Mari greets him at the door, Joji in her arms, beaming.

He’s intially surprised to see that the American boy is there too, until he remembers, of course he is—Wayne’s renting the spare room. And he’s barely noticeable for most of the meal, silent, although he’s clearly listening to everything that’s said. After dinner he also helps Mari with the dishes, entirely unprompted, which Takeshi approves of, and then spends some time gently entertaining the toddler.

Later, Tachibana and Mari step away for a moment to get their son to bed, and Takeshi looks at the silent young man sitting in the corner and says, “So. Wayne.”

“Yes, Mr. Hongo?”

“You said you had something you wanted to ask me, and we’ve got a few minutes now. What can I help you with?”

Wayne remains quiet for a long moment, and then fixes those piercing eyes on Takeshi and says, “Mr. Tachibana says you’re the strongest person he knows. What does it mean to be strong?”

Not what Takeshi had been expecting. Granted, what he wasexpecting, he doesn’t know, but…not that. He thinks about it, frowning. “I’d say…kindness.”

Wayne’s forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

“Look, Wayne, you can get as powerful as you want in life, but it’s only strength if you can use it to be kind. Otherwise it’s just tyranny.” Takeshi leans forward and holds out his hand, as if to shake. “Anyone, any fool on Earth can take their hand and make it into a fist. To reach out to someone when they need help, that’s strength.”

Slow nodding, and Wayne reaches out to him in return, clasps his hand for a brief moment, and says, “Thank you. That’s a valuable insight.”

Takeshi nods. “Ask Tachibana that question, too, and Shiro. It’s a good thing to ask. Tells you a lot about the person answering.” He considers it for a moment. “Of course, there will always be some people you won’t be able to help, we share this world with monsters. But you must always try to be kind. That’s strength.”

--

2017

Bruce checks his watch as he walks up to the restaurant, satisfied to be a precise fifteen minutes early, and then looks up and is surprised to realize that for once Dick’s beaten him there. Not only is he there, too, he’s talking to someone Bruce doesn’t recognize.

The stranger seems to be about Dick’s own age, a man in a black fedora and slightly old-fashioned dress clothes from a minor Japanese fashion label. His tone suggests an awkward tourist, but his stance says he’s a fighter, and the way he watches his surroundings indicates that he’s memorizing as many details as possible. He’s got a guidebook in one hand, and a notebook sticking out of his pocket, and he’s speaking Japanese, which is not one of Dick’s stronger languages. Bruce steps forward, thinking he might need to translate, but Dick replies to the other man in English, which is met with a thoughtful nod. So—they’re about the same level in each other’s languages. Better at hearing than speaking. Convenient for them.

“—so if you’re looking for something in his field, the natural history museum is great. If you want somewhere more romantic,though, the Thorndike is amazing, and there’s this restaurant right near it, I forget the name—oh, hey, Bruce! You’re here! What’s the name of that restaurant across the street from the Thorndike Museum?”

“San Sebastian Jatetxe.”

“That’s the one! Thank you!” Dick beams at him, then turns to his companion. “I’ll write it down for you.”

“<Thank you, I’d appreciate that.>”

“Of course! This is my foster father, by the way, Shoutaro-san.Bruce Wayne. Bruce, this is Shoutaro Hidari, he’s visting Gotham for a couple of weeks.” To Shoutaro again, “Bruce’s Japanese is much better than mine.”

Bruce nods. “<What brings you to Gotham, Mr. Hidari?>”

Shoutaro relaxes visibly at the question; it’s likely the only new voice he’s heard speaking his mother tongue in days. “<My partner is attending a conference here, so we decided we’d make it a vacation.>”

“<Aha. Curators and archivists?>”

“<How did you guess?>”

“<A friend of Dick’s and mine is also attending, she mentioned that international registrations are up significantly this year.>” Bruce pauses. “<If you’re looking for date spots, the Thorndike is excellent, as Dick said, but the Botanical Gardens are also very nice this time of year.>”

Shoutaro blushes warmly. “<Thank you very much for the recommendation.>”

--

He doesn’t think much more about Dick’s tourist friend until that night, when he and Damian are out on patrol. It’s a quiet night, so they’re stopping a mugging as gently as possible when the mugger—a repeat offender and sometime informant, Bruce makes a note to check in on him at home out of suit—says, “So, uh, Bats. Who’s the new guy?”

Bruce frowns. No one new should be operating here.“Which one?”

“You know, the bug guy. My buddy texted about him, said he was speaking some other language. Well, he said it was a bug ninja who spoke Japanese, but he watches a lotta anime and he gets real excited, so I ain’t sure he’s right.”

“A bug. What color?”

“Oh, it changes, it’s cool as hell.” He shows Bruce and Damian a picture on his phone. “He a friend’a yours?”

“Yes. He’s visiting.” Bruce peers at the photo and then hands his informant two hundred dollars. “Buy dinner and go home, Nathan. Tell your aunt I say hello.”

“Yo, sure thing. Thanks, Bats!”

They’ve only been searching a few minutes when their earpieces crackle and Babs says, “Roof of GPL Central Branch. Someone I don’t recognize, they just took out some Joker goons who were robbing a jewelry store at the corner of High and 26th. Dick’s on his way too.”

They touch down at one end of the Gotham Public Library’s roof as Dick’s landing at the other and survey their guest, who’s looking between the three of them with something that’s likely surprise, although given that their face is entirely concealed it’s not certain. The insectoid red eyes and sharp antennae on the helmet and the white scarf drifting in the air from the back of the right shoulder send a shock of recognition down Bruce’s spine. He considers speaking first, but then nods to Dick instead. For better or for worse, Dick is good at putting people at ease.

“Hi there.” Dick waves to the stranger, tone cheery but guarded. “We haven’t seen you around before, mind telling us what you’re doing in Gotham?”

The stranger cocks their head to the left for a moment before saying, haltingly, “We. Ah. We are…tourists? We did not mean to…um…” The left eye of the helmet flashes as they’re speaking. A beat, and then the righteye begins to flash, and they say, in an entirely different voice that’s noticeably accented but much more fluent, “I’ll handle this part if you don’t mind, partner. Good evening, we’re Kamen Rider W. Our apologies, we didn’t mean to intrude on your territory. Are we addressing the famed Batman and his companions?”

Bruce says, slowly, “That’s correct. You’re a Rider?”

“Oh, you’re familiar with the term! That’s wonderful. Yes, that’s correct. We’ve been in operation as such since late 2008, although of course primarily in Japan.”

“Tt.” Damian scowls. “<If you mostly work in Japan, what are you doing running around here?>”

The left eye on the helmet begins to flash again as W responds in the first voice, in Japanese now. “<It wasn’t exactly the plan, a man in clown makeup waved a gun at me and tried to take my wallet and once I’d knocked him out I noticed that there were about five more clowns breaking into a jewelry store down the street. I couldn’t just leave them to it.>”

Dick is also frowning now. “I—have we met before? I recognize your voice. The, uh, left-hand one.”

“<I don’t think so?>” says the left-hand voice, and then the right-hand one breaks in with, “Actually, based on his memory of your speech patterns, I believe you and my partner met earlier today, you recommended a couple of date locations and a Basque restaurant I’m eager to visit.”

Bruce can see Dick’s eyes going wide from halfway across the roof. He’s visibly biting back the urge to address their guest by name, which would be discourteous, to say the least, with everyone in costume, so Bruce cuts in with, “Is my understanding correct that we’re speaking to two people currently?”

“That’s correct!” says the right-hand voice, sounding delighted. “We two are a single Kamen Rider.”

Dick blinks. “Is this like a Firestorm thing? Are you fused?”

“Not unlike, but no. My physical body is currently unconscious in our hotel room, which is certainly much more comfortable than some of the other places in which I’ve passed out. Although as my partner wasoriginally going out to get us something to eat when he was accosted, I ambecoming concerned about my caloric intake.” And the left-hand voice says, “<Yeah, I was thinking I’d be able to get us something decent at the Seven-Eleven, but the ones here are different from the ones at home.>”

“I think,” Bruce says, “this conversation would be better continued elsewhere.”

--

Twenty minutes later they’re all out of suit and seated around a table at an all-night diner, and Shoutaro’s partner, introduced only as Philip, is inspecting the menu with interest. “This is intimidatingly lengthy, do you have recommendations?”

Dick grins. “Get one of the meat-lovers omelettes. And then if you still have room get some baklava, the owner’s mother makes it and it’s amazing.”

Bruce, meanwhile, is turning Shoutaro’s business card over in his hands. “<You’re a detective?>”

“<I am! Mostly lost pets and infidelity, but sometimes there’s an interesting case. Philip works with me, although he’s pretty busy with the museum nowadays.>”

“<I’ve heard of the Fuuto Museum, they hosted an intriguing exhibit on Mesopotamian artifacts last year.>”

“<You heard about Nitoh’s exhibit here? That’s amazing, I’ll have to let him know.>”

“<Please tell him I was very impressed with his thesis.>”

Damian’s been scowling silently into his milkshake, but suddenly he slaps the table and everyone jumps. “I knew I recognized that name!” Then, to Shoutaro, “<I read your novel.>”

“<I—you did? Really? It hasn’t had any translations, how did you hear about it?>”

“<My, uh.>” Damian shifts awkwardly. “<My mother gave it to me, I like detective stories. I enjoyed it. Although that copy was lost.>”

“<Oh, I’ll send you a new one if you like, I don’t imagine it’d be easy to get here.>”

The waitress comes by, and her eyebrows slowly rise as everyone orders, presumably at the quantity of food on request. When she’s left again, Philip turns to Bruce and says, brightly, “I also take it that you’re the sponsor Ms. Gordon mentioned, we had a very stimulating chat at the conference earlier today.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised to hear that you met her.”

“Coincidence and fate figure largely in our lives, Mr. Wayne.” Philip smiles like a cat; it’s oddly charming. “We’re superheroes, after all. Here,” to Damian, “Dick mentioned to me that you like animals, would you like to see a picture of my cat? He used to be a supervillain.”

After they consume a truly astonishing amount of diner food it’s time to part ways, and Bruce shakes hands with Shoutaro and Philip and says, “<It was good to meet you both.>”

Philip beams. “<Likewise, thank you, it’s been a pleasure. And I’m looking forward to seeing more of Gotham.>”

Shoutaro looks up at him for a moment. “<It’s been good talking to you, Mr. Wayne. You…remind me of someone I used to know.>”

“<I could say the same of the two of you.>” Bruce turns to go, but then turns back. “<I have one last question for both of you.>”

They nod, precisely in sync, and Philip says, “<Yes?>”

“<What does it mean to be strong?>”

Silence for a moment, Shoutaro and Philip glancing at each other while Dick and Damian wait in puzzled silence, and then Shoutaro says, “<Kindness,>” and Philip says, “<Love.>” Another shared glance before Shoutaro continues. “<Anyone can hurt someone else. Helping them, that’s strength.>”

Bruce nods. “<Somehow that’s what I knew you’d say.>”

[the-untamed-obsession]

Despair | XueXiao x Reader

I know. But don’t worry, it’s just angst. Pure angst. I’m sorry if it seems like a little bit of a mess, it’s 4:30am and I’m really tired but I really needed/wanted to finish this. Happy reading💖

WARNING: mentions of severe depression and suicidal thoughts!

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: After their deaths, you’re expected to continue on living. But how can you? You’re so alone now, all alone with your thoughts of despair.

Your eyes scanned the road where many people walked, busy with their daily lives. You watched as couples passed by, then children, then adults, then people who were by themselves, and so on.

Your emotionless face didn’t change as a little girl ran towards you and stopped. She stared at you for a moment, but you looked away giving her no reaction. She took the hint and ran off, but she reminded you of her.

A-Qing.

You shook your head and kept looking ahead, your eyes following each person that passed by. But none of it brought you any solace. It only worsened the ache in your heart. How were you supposed to continue like this? How were you supposed to stay strong? How were you supposed to move through life like this?

You were miserable. The world was so bland and tasteless. The colors were gone, the life was gone, everything that made your day worth living every single day was gone. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, everything had been taken from you.

What could you have done? A lot, actually. There was a lot you could’ve done, but you were just too naive. Things had been great, things had been so perfect… then HE came along. He ruined everything, he took away your happy little family.

What could you do now? Mourn. But it wasn’t enough. Every day was harder to deal with. Every day seemed like a hassle. Everyday was just another miserable reason to join them.

Even now, a full year later, you would still imagine looking up to see them walking towards you. Every time you’d hear your voice, your hope would spike and you’d feel like you’d see them laughing at you. Laughing the way you used to.

But you knew that was all a delusion. There was nothing to fix the void in your heart. There was nothing that could take the pain away. There was nothing that could fix you.

Your eyes fell to the cup in front of you. Your fingers reached around it and picked it up; you saw the liquid swirl inside. It was tea, you’d lost your taste for alcohol a while ago.

Not that it mattered, anything you ate or drank tasted like sand. Whether it was a delicious meal or the best alcohol around. It was all the same to you.

Sweets were also something you avoided. Especially the one Xingchen bought you. You remembered the days where you woke up and found a piece of candy beside you. You’d remember the smile on Xue Yang’s face every time you gave him some. You’d remember the pout on A-Qing’s face when you’d tease her about eating too many.

All of those were just memories. Annoying little memories that never went away. How could you enjoy them, anyway? Everything that brought you joy, was taken away from you.

Your hand touched your chest as the tears pooled in your eyes. Why? Why Xingchen? Why A-Qing? Why… why Xue Yang? He had changed his life around, he’d promised he would bring him back… he never got the chance.

You smiled as you finally saw your home in the distance. It wasn’t the prettiest, but you loved it. You lived there with the people you considered your family.

Xiao Xingchen, Xue Yang, and A-Qing. All three of them meant so much to you. You weren’t even sure when you began to fall in love with Xingchen and Xue Yang, but you didn’t hate it. Neither did they.

Nothing really changed between you three. There was a day where you three sat down and talked about your relationship. It was pleasant to admit your true feelings.

From that day forward, you three had been in a relationship. A-Qing caught it rather quickly, claiming even though she was blind she could practically smell the romance.

She treated you 3 like her family as well. Everything had been so perfect.

You walked in and saw a crying Xue Yang with no Xingchen or A-Qing. You were concerned, terrified even.

“Wh-what happened?” You asked, grabbing his arm. He was a mess, a sobbing mess with a pouch in his hands. “Xue Yang… Xue Yang!”

“(Y-Y/n)...” he murmured, tears steaming down his face.

“Where are they?” You asked, taking his shoulders. “Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY?!” You knew. You just knew.

Xue Yang moved aside and you looked behind him and felt your heart shatter. It almost felt like your heart stopped. In fact, it would’ve been better if it did.

You saw Xingchen laying there, still as a statue. You saw the large slit on his throat and your hand flew to your mouth. Your knees buckled and you fell to the ground, but almost immediately shot up and ran to the man in white.

“XINGCHEN!!” The scream that tore from your lips broke Xue Yang further than he’d already done so himself.

You fell to the ground beside Xingchen and reached out with shaky hands.

“Xi-Xingchen! W-wake up… pl-please. D-don’t le-leave me! Say something! Say s-something Xingchen!”

Xue Yang watched in horror as the words Xingchen cried out, you were crying out now. Your hands were hitting Xingchen’s chest in an attempt to wake him, but it wasn’t possible.

“XIAO XINGCHEN!!! WAKE UP!!!”

You felt arms around you and tried to shove them off, but they were firm.

“I’ll bring him back! I swear!” Xue Yang cried out, wanting any way to soothe your pain. “I swear! I promise you, I’ll bring him back!!”

You had believed him, knowing that he truly meant it. Xue Yang- whatever he’d done- had regretted it and wanted to make it better. He kept you in the dark with most things, but you accepted it, now only having him. Not like it was much different. Unlike Xingchen, you never knew of Xue Yang, so you couldn’t earn him or protect him.

In one day, everything had changed. Your family had been torn apart and you were too terrified to lose the last person you cared so deeply for.

So you believed him and went along with it. You didn’t stay with him, but he visited you every single night. He brought you candy- none of which you ate- and he often brought you food.

One day, Xue Yang didn’t return. You felt immense fear immediately and went out searching for him. You’d heard word that someone- matching Xiao Xingchen‘s description- was seen near Yi city.

Back home?

It didn’t matter. You went back in search of both of them, hoping to find either Xingchen or Xue Yang.

You found Xue Yang.

Dead on the ground, missing one arm, but a piece of candy in the other. It had happened all over again. You’d lost whatever was left of your family.

“Xue Yang? H-hey… Xue Yang…” you said, falling beside him. “Th-this isn’t f-funny. St-stop! Your jokes aren’t funny! Wake up! Wake up right now!” Tears streamed down your face and you let out a pained scream, one that echoed all around you.

You pulled Xue Yang into your arms, unable to handle what had just happened. His blood stained your clothes but you didn’t care.

When did this happen? Who killed him? Where were they? Would you be able to catch them? What would you do when you did catch them? Would you kill them too?

So many questions bombarded your mind but you had no answers. All you could do was pull Xue Yang all the way back to where Xingchen was and put him in a coffin beside him.

A-Qing was still missing. No matter what, you’d find her. You’d find her and keep her safe.

You poor fool.

If only you’d known. Only a few weeks after, you’d found out that A-Qing had become a ghost who begged other cultivators to ward them off. She even searched for someone to help kill Xue Yang, the cause of it all.

Learning the truth didn’t help anything. You’d learned everything overtime, piecing together some of your own thoughts.

Song Lan had appeared one day, he fought Xue Yang who cut out his tongue and turned him into a fierce corpse. A-Qing had seen it all and told Xiao Xingchen, who told her to run and hide.

Xingchen confronted Xue Yang, who lost it and taunted Xingchen with the one thing he couldn’t handle. Killing his own best friend, one who he’d given his own eyes to. Xingchen had taken his own sword and ended his life. You’d come home the next day.

Useless. You were so useless! You did nothing to save anyone! You couldn’t save Xue Yang, you couldn’t save A-Qing! You could save Xingchen! What good were you?

For someone who claimed family was so important, you sure as hell let your own down.

Ever since then, you’d been wandering the world. You didn’t know what to do. Would you go looking for Song Lan and kill him for ruining everything? Would you kill Wei Ying for daring to come back to life when no one you cared about could? What could you do?

Nothing.

As usual, you weren’t able to do anything. All you were good for was crying and regretting every life choice.

What would they want? What would they want you to do? Xingchen would probably want you to move on or something. A-Qing would probably suggest marrying some rich clan leader or something. Xue Yang might suggest you get revenge.

But you were tired. You were so tired and your mind kept replaying scenarios where your life would've been different. You kept wishing and begging for the universe to give you another chance but it never did.

Every day you woke up realizing your mistakes. Your inability to help anyone, your inability to do anything. Your mind replayed one thing and one thing only:

“Useless (y/n)...” you murmured as you took a sip of the tasteless tea. A tear slid down your cheek and you watched it hit the table below. It was soon followed by dozens more.

Even now, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t move on. What was the point anyway? They’d all still be dead.

One thing you often wondered about was joining them. You tried. You tried living on your own. You tried for a whole year to continue without them, but it was so hard. It was almost as difficult as bringing them back to life.

But before you ended your time on this miserable planet… you needed two things.

Xingchen’s sword, Shuanghua, and his spirit pouch.

You glared up at the bright blue sky that taunted you, vowing to get both of them from Song Lan. There was nothing else left in the world for you… but those two things… you so desperately needed them.

[sinsforjeon]

Possessive|3|

[HELLO LOVELIES💕 I PROMISED A PART THREE AND HERE IT IS-PROBABLY LONG OVERDUE BUT PLS FORGIVE MEEE:D I HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR IT ALSO YOUR FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED I LOVE HEARING YOUR OPINIONS OK ENJOY ILY🤩💕]

(!!! tw this contains themes similar to emotional abuse and a dysfunctional relationship so if you’re triggered by that then please don’t read this!!! stay safe💕)

Pregnant? No. You couldn’t be, there was no way.

Jungkook was laying next to you, his hand mindlessly skimming against the soft skin of your stomach.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t be pregnant.”

It was dead silent after that but not for long, maybe a few seconds. He laughed loudly before leaning down to press a loving kiss against your tummy.

“Did you hear that, little one? Your mommy is being silly!”

“Kook-“

“She thinks you don’t exist!”

You were rendered speechless from his actions. You knew you couldn’t be pregnant because you were taking birth control pills.

“But kookie, I take birth control pills, remember?”

He simply chuckled before he looked up at you. You couldn’t tell what was going on through his mind but then again he was never one to show any emotions.

“Birth control pills? You mean the ones that I’ve swapped out for sugar pills for the last two months?”

It felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. As if someone had poured an ice cold bucket of water over your head.

“W-What?”

“You heard me. We are having a baby.”

You let out a broken sob as reality finally began to set in. You were having a baby. You were having Jungkook’s baby.

“Oh baby, no don’t cry! Is my princess really that happy?”

Jungkook cooed as he brought you into his embrace, your face nuzzling his neck as he ran a hand through your hair and left soft kisses against your forehead.

To any outsiders you probably looked like a loving couple, one that was about to have the perfect little family they always dreamed of, but you were far from it.

You sobbed, shaking your head as an endless string of ‘nos’ fell from your lips. Jungkook rocked the both of you back and forth in hopes that it would calm you down but it seemed to make it worse.

“No? What’s wrong baby, hm? Tell kookie so he can fix it, angel.”

“I can’t- I don’t want a baby, Jungkook! I don’t want your b-baby!”

Jungkook took in a sharp breath at your words before he pulled back, his hands on your shoulders as he held you at an arm length distance. He looked at you as if you had stabbed him in his heart.

“You- You don’t want my baby?”

“T-That’s not what I meant!”

“Well what the fuck did you mean then?!”

This was falling apart very quickly and you had no idea how to take control of the situation. Jungkook was already seething and he wouldn’t give up until he had the final word.

You gulped as you got up from the bed, hiccups slowly crawled up your throat but you forced them down as you hastily wiped your tears.

You took a deep breath before you turned back to him. The panic you had felt earlier was slowly simmering down but it was the opposite for the man across you.

“Kookie- I didn’t mean like that! You know I love you, right?”

“You don’t want my baby? You-“

He let out a humorless laugh as he ran a hand through his hair before harshly tugging on the roots of his hair out of frustration.

“You don’t want my baby- you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Listen-“

“No! You listen to me! I’ve had enough of your fucking outbursts, do I have to make every decision for you? Cause you clearly can’t make up your fucking mind!”

God you had messed up, he was mad but even that was an understatement. Jungkook was fuming. His breathing had started to get erratic so you slowly made your way to him in hopes to help him calm down.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Y/N-“

“Jungkook, baby? Please calm d-down for me, yeah?”

“Y/N, so help me god if you lay your hand on me I’ll do something I’ll regret.”

You gulped, hesitating but still walked towards him. You placed your hands above where his heart was, his heartbeat was fast and so you did the one thing you knew would calm him down. You cried.

Jungkook liked it when you cried, it showed him that he was in control, that you were dependent on him. It worked, your quiet whimpers brought him out of his reverie. He sighed, frustration still clear in his eyes but he brought you into his arms regardless.

“I-I do want your babies, Kookie, was just scared-“

“Shh, baby, don’t cry, hm? It’s ok my love, no more tears.”

You hiccuped, more tears making their way down your face but you were crying for a completely different reason. You had shown weakness again, you had submitted to Jeon Jungkook once again.

You felt the first sign of your pregnancy a week later when you woke up with a strong urge to throw up. You bolted up from the bed as you quickly ran to the bathroom, waking Jungkook up in your frenzy before you fell on your knees in front of the toilet and emptied your stomach contents into the ceramic bowl.

Jungkook hurried after you as he kneeled down beside you in concern. He cooed quietly when he realized what was going on, he held your hair back with one hand as the other rubbed soothing circles on your back.

You whined quietly from the ache that now sat in your throat, the bitter taste in your mouth didn’t help either. Your peace didn’t last long before you lurched forward once again, gagging into the bowl.

Jungkook stayed by your side through it all, he then helped you to brush your teeth before he led you back to bed again. He held you close in his arms, one hand protectively around your stomach and the other in your hair.

“Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?”

“Why are y-“

“If it’s a girl, then I hope she turns out to be exactly like you.”

You let out a forced chuckle as you looked down at the hand around your stomach. You weren’t ready, you weren’t emotionally ready to be a mother and Jungkook was definitely not ready to be a father.

How could you tell him that though? How could you tell him that you didn’t want a baby, not now at least. He would flip, but you had to take a chance.

“Jungkook?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want a baby.”

He let out a snort before he placed a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t know what it meant but you didn’t question it. He was quiet as if he was contemplating his next words.

“It’s ok.”

“It is?”

“Mhm, I heard first time mothers always get cold feet but I know you don’t really mean it and don’t worry baby, Kookie will take care of everything, yes?”

This was not going anywhere, you were going in circles and it was endless. You fight, you cry, you ‘make up’ and it begins again. You knew that you were going to have his baby whether you liked it or not.

“Just make sure you take care of yourself so that our little peanut is healthy.”

“Yeah... I’ll do that.”

You were tied down from here on out, trapped with a baby. Jungkook’s baby. You could only hope that the new responsibility would change him for the better, for your sake but most importantly for the sake of your child.

You laid there until he fell asleep, silent tears trailed down your face. This wasn’t how you had envisioned life to be like. You always thought you’d be happy like all the princesses in those Disney movies, you’d be the princess and you’d always find your Prince charming and you did in a way but he was not what you had expected.

He was controlling, short tempered but then again he was loving so why did you feel so weighed down? Why did you feel unhappy?

You were a good person, weren’t you? So why had life been so cruel to you? Why didn’t you get the happy life that you deserved, the one all your friends had.

These questions ran through your head until you found yourself getting sleepy and so you slept, you slept in the arms of the love of your life and the father of your child but one thought stayed in your mind even throughout your dreams.

What did you ever do to deserve this life?

For the next few months Jungkook was nothing but pleasant. You no longer fought and you barely found yourself crying. It actually felt like you were a normal couple.

You were nearly due to give birth and the nerves had started to set in. You knew your water could break any day now and you found yourself always on edge even though Jungkook reassured you time and time again.l that everything would go as planned.

The new demeanor from your boyfriend didn’t go unnoticed, you were confused at first but eventually you found yourself getting used to his gentle words and touches.

It began the day when you both found out the gender of your baby. You were having a baby boy, Jungkook had been so happy that he began crying. You had never seen him cry before and you had no idea what to do but to bring him into your arms.

From then on he would tend to your every want and need, always rubbing your feet, getting you whatever food you craved for the day or night and would stay by your side 24/7, occasionally conversing with his unborn son. The sight was wholesome, seeing him smile wide was rare but when your boy kicked at the sound of his voice his whole face lit up.

It was perfect. He was perfect but of course good things don’t last forever, not for you at least. Jungkook worked from home, always had but on this particular day he had to attend business somewhere else.

The news didn’t sit well with you. You were so used to having him around you that him leaving for over an hour was enough to send you into a panicky state, especially now, you needed him more than ever because the baby was almost here.

“D-Do you have to go?”

“Y/N... yes! Yes I have to go, how many times do I need to tell you this?”

You whimpered quietly at the tone of his voice, it had been so long since he got angry at you and you didn’t want it to begin anytime soon.

“Kookie, don’t leave please! I need you here with me.”

“Fucks sake, Y/N, do you even hear yourself? You’re making it sound like I’m going to war! It’s just a couple of hours, angel, I’ll be back.”

His words somehow set you off, he was talking down to you and it made you feel stupid but more than anything it made you angry. Maybe you were being unreasonable but rightfully so. He was going to leave you in a house that was basically in the middle of nowhere when you could pop out a baby at any given moment.

“But-But what if the baby comes and you aren’t here?! Then what am I-“

“God! You are pissing me off, Y/N, I’m already stressed enough as it is don’t add anymore fucking baggage to my problems.”

This was the Jungkook you knew, one that had been locked far away for a very long time, maybe too long and maybe that’s why he was being so harsh. You let out a shocked chuckle at his words.

“Really? I’m adding on to your problems? I told you! I fucking told you that we weren’t ready for this but no! Kookie always knows best right? I should’ve known you weren’t ready to be a father-“

Your words seem to set him off even further, you were adding fuel to a burning fire and it was bound to end in flames. He slowly walked towards you, a frown etched on his face as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re making me angry, Y/N. Do not-“ He gulped before taking a deep breath to center himself. “Do not make me angry, not today.”

“Oh fuck you, Jeon Jungkook! I’m the one who is carrying a human that YOU put in me so I’ll make you angry all I want. I swear to god if you walk out of that door, you will come back to an empty house.”

Jungkook growled at your words, his hand quickly going around your neck, it was loose but it scared you half to death. Maybe you had pushed him too far this time, so far that he had forgotten that you were carrying his baby.

“Now you better listen to me, little girl because I’m only going to say this once and I won’t repeat myself, am I clear?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. First of all, don’t you ever, ever raise your fucking voice at me again, secondly do not even think about setting foot out of this house, not with my son because I will haunt you and when I do find you, you’ll wish you were never born and finally don’t threaten me, angel, don’t ever make that mistake again because you never threaten Jeon Jungkook and get away with it.”

You gulped, nodding quickly before he pulled his hand away from you just as quickly as he had wrapped it around your neck. Jungkook took another deep breath before cradling your face in his hands.

He wiped the tears that had leaked down your face, you had been crying? You were so scared that you didn’t realize and even now the feeling of his hands on your face made your heart beat fast with fear.

“I’m going to go now, ok? And you will lock the door after me, don’t try anything stupid because it won’t end well. Don’t make me make you cry again, angel.”

He left but not without a soft kiss on your forehead. He grabbed his car keys and phone before he made his way out of the house. And just like that you were left alone.

You let out a breath of relief as you finally locked the door. It was silent, something that you weren’t used to because Jungkook would always find something to talk about for hours on end.

It was silent, until it wasn’t anymore. You felt it first but you refused to believe it but then you heard it. Had it been a different scenario you would assume that you had peed on yourself but it wasn’t, this was reality.

Your water broke.

[eyeless-cunt]

Ej being w a sexual shy reader

prompt 9 (?)

I mashed all of these prompts together into one— I thot they would fit 😳 (however it’s a lil different uwu)

also i listened to ego death by Mieke while writing this it goes with it WELL, so you should listen to it >:)) ON LOOP

🔪————————————————————————🌸

Summary: Y/N is alone and not fine with it. Ej is alone but fine with it. They mix. Ej remembers that his love is not immortal like him.

Word count: 3.3k

NSFW: u h. yes. It’s pretty mild tho and very VERY soft

Warnings: mild depression, grief, loss of a loved one, EXTREME FLUFFY NSFW, mentions of eating humans, mentions of reader death, slight angst, very fluffy, ej loves reader very much

Tag List: @jouchann

🌸————————————————🔪

Y/n was always shy. She grew up quiet, she lacked presence. She never raised her hand—nor her voice. She was talked over and trampled on. She grew up with loving yet quickly fading grandparents. They tried to give her attention but the life was draining out of them and quite frankly they wanted to spend their last years in the arms of their loving spouse. She didn’t mind, she figured she would rather spend all of her remaining time with her significant other as well. Although she had always figured that something like that was nowhere close to her in the near future. Or further future to be honest. She was too shy and small in character to make a lasting impact on anyone, after all.

Falling in love with an immortal demon wasn’t something shy girls did. Outgoing girls did that, spontaneous and loud and adventurous. Those were the type of girls to experience this. Confident and sure of themselves. Shy girls met someone in a library, in a coffee shop, maybe on a park bench. Not in the woods at four a.m. sobbing about their grandparents death.

It was cold and dark and wet. Her face was wet from tears and wet from rain, her fingertips and lips were red and freezing, ready to burst. She couldn’t go back inside. Not yet, not now. It had been a week since their death, her grandpa dying of simply old age, her grandmother fading one hour after digesting the news and coming to terms with it. Her heart was simply too broken. Instantaneous heart failure. They left her everything. The car, the house, the money, the cat— their belongings. She didn’t want any of it right now. She had no other family, no close friends. She was simply not the type to make a lasting impact on someone.

She didn’t want to go back to that house. She didn’t want to see their things laying around, now her things. They were all she had, how was she supposed to go on, being alone? She hated being alone and lonely and alone. If anything, the woods behind her house was almost comforting. The feeling of being watched, which usually would give someone chills and paranoia—helped. She wasn’t alone, she would walk into that house and her grandparents would wave hello at her, they would be holding hands from their separate but close recliners, watching whatever new show they found interesting at the moment.

Obviously, that wouldn’t happen. But she still thought it, hoped. Which was why she couldn’t go back inside. It would make it too real, they wouldn’t be there, she would be truly alone. As long as she didn’t go inside to see for herself, they might be still sitting inside, waiting for her. So she couldn’t go inside, or they wouldn’t be there anymore.

It was colder then before, even though the rain had stopped. The grass was starting to freeze, the sun had gone down more than two hours ago. She sat still against a tree trunk, holding her knees to her chest. She was tired, it was cold out here. She didn’t know if her fingers were still red or if they had turned blue. She didn’t have enough energy to check. Animals scurried around her, as if they knew she wouldn’t do them any harm. They knew she was incapable, so they ignored her and roamed around freely.

Her eyes were closing and opening, closing and opening, over and over and over again. Her head swayed, but she fought to stay up. Would her grandparents still be there if she fell asleep? She didn’t know, so she fought to stay awake. Her body won over her mind however, and soon her body slumped over as she hit the ground, her arms still curled into herself.

🔪Eyeless’s P.O.V🔪

I felt kinda bad. I mean, this girl was just sitting in my woods crying while it was raining. Watching her felt like an invasion of privacy...but then again she was in my woods. It was only fair that I watch her to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. How did she even get in? It seems that tall prick needs to up his game.

I was patient. I had lived a very long time, I had an endless amount of time to do whatever I wanted. I knew that waiting for someone or something meant nothing. However I did worry about her time. How long had it been? I figured pretty long when she slumped over onto the icy grass, sound asleep. Humans felt temperature, didn’t they? She would get hypothermia if this continued. I had already eaten. I wasn’t hungry. Being feral every once in a while really made you full as hell for a few weeks. The thought of more food grossed me out considering I had eaten so much. She was safe, for now. If she ever came in my woods again however, I wouldn’t be too sure.

So in a moment of rare kindness for something like me, I dropped down from my tree and crouched to get a good look at her. Was she a run-away? She looked young but...I sifted through her pockets. An old tattered wallet. She had a driver’s license, not that much else. Then again I didn’t really look, just wanted to find an ID of some sort. She was an adult. So homeless? No. She didn’t look it. So just having a mental breakdown? probably. I picked her up, and felt the cold in her skin. It didn’t affect me but it certainly made me worried-ish for her.

I didn’t know where to take her. Where did she live, where did she come from? I couldn’t just take her with me, could I? No, definitely not. She would scream and argue and thrash as soon as she saw me. Well, I guess I could just say I was a cosplayer. Of some...random obscure villian or something. If she didn’t believe it and thrashed and screamed then I would just kill her. Easy. Take her home, warm her up, take her back to her home, done and easy. I hadn’t done something this kind for someone I considered my food in a very long time.

I adjusted her in my arms, trying not to press on her her or hold her too tight. Trying to hold back strength was not something I had done in an even longer time, and I was not used to it. I’m not sure how long it took to get there, but halfway I noticed the blue of her lips. I took off my sweatshirt and pulled it on over her head, not bothering to stick her arms through. She would retain more heat that way anyways. I’m not sure if i’m warm or cold, so it was a gamble to hold her closer to my chest. I did so anyways and started to jog, wanting to get there before she died.

When we got there I immediately turned on the heat. My house had many functions I didn’t use, although it seemed they finally had a use. I closed all the windows and doors, and grabbed a few blankets the previous (now long dead—like over 100 years dead) home owners had owned and kept in a spare closet. I laid her on the couch, although I wondered if my bed would work better for retaining heat. I figured there was no difference and kept her there, laying blankets on her. She would probably need a warm bath, but I figured she wouldn’t want me to stick her in there for fear of her wet clothes. I didn’t see an issue with undressing her but I vaguely recalled a moment when I walked in on Jane showering. I didn’t see an issue, she hit me with every bottle in there.

I wasn’t sure of what else I could do for her, so I ended up sitting in front of her on the couch. It was a few hours before she woke up, but I was patient. I have time. I wondered if I would have to kill her or not. I wouldn’t want to eat her, so it would be a waste.

🔪Third person P.O.V🌸

She had a short dream. Grey skin, navy blue, hot tar leaking out of holes in the wall, screaming. A lot of fire and singing. Then she didn’t dream at all. When she woke up, she was surprisingly comfortable. Her back hurt a little, and was a little cold, her hands were a bit numb, and she was sleeping on a soft yet bumpy surface. She liked being wrapped in these blankets, but she couldn’t seem to free her hands. They were trapped in something and she was far too weak to move them very much. He was surprisingly amused. She didn’t seem to know what was restricting her arms, and she didn’t seem all too panicked.

He thought her look of frustration was funny. They made eye contact. Kinda. They talked, although they don’t really remember what about. It took a long time, they weren’t sure how long, but eventually they entered a mutual relationship. Falling in love with immortal demons wasn’t something shy girls did.

Yet here she was. Her head in the lap of an immortal demon who she was in fact in love with. She never did end up going into that house, she tried. She tried and tried but the thought of her grandparents not being there when she walked in always stopped her. She always somehow found her way back to Jack’s house. Over and over and over and over again. Somehow she found her way into his lap. He absentmindedly played with her hair, not sure of what was happening on the Tv. He only installed it because she was always bored when he was gone. He didn’t mind the noise, as long as it wasn’t too loud.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had last gone ‘feral’. It seemed crude to call it that, but technically that’s what he did. He planned on never getting into that state as long as Y/N was alive. Or at least around him. He hadn’t eaten in a week. He grimaced, knowing his last helping shouldn’t even of lasted him this long. He needed to go. He needed to hunt. But she seemed so content in his lap, and he knew he wouldn’t turn for at least another week if this continued. He had time. He could let her stay like this. She yawned, and looked up at him, smiling sweetly. He was sure he could feel his chest warm up his entire body.

She sat up and turned to lift up his mask, pecking him lightly on the cheek and giving another sweet smile. He never thought of humans as sweet creatures. But the woman in his lap was very sweet. Sweeter than any human he’d ever killed and tasted. Sweeter than the sugar water BEN had forced down his throat once. She was soft and quiet, until she opened her mouth. She had a lot to say then. He had time. He could listen. He could be patient. He would always be patient with her.

He wasn’t so sure how patient he’d be if he went feral. But swiped that thought out of his head. He wouldn’t go feral. He would hunt tomorrow—that’s what he decided. Sure she’d be by herself for a day or two but she knew the drill. He’d feel a bit bad as she clung to him, hopping he wouldn’t leave. A little guilty as he walked away from her as she held back tears. But she knew the drill.

He sometimes forgot that she didn’t have as much time as him. Forgot that one day she would leave this world and her human body would rot and decay into nothingness. She wouldn’t be sweet anymore. She’d be bones that he’d bury under a tree or some shit. He would pass her grave in a thousand years and he might not remember her voice by then. That thought sent him spiraling.

She would die. She was human. One day her life would end. The thought of him forgetting her voice, the way her kisses taste so sweet, the feel of her hands in his hair as a tv he didn’t give two fucks about droned on in the background. He didn’t want to forget. He never wanted to forget how warm her body was, the only temperature he’d ever actually felt. The only thing he’d ever actually love.

He didn’t want to leave her anymore. He hated leaving her. He’s never loathed anything more than being apart from her and knowing that while he was away, she was aging. She would grow old. Her bones would become brittle, and her eyesight would leave her. He would lose her and have to bury her in the ground. Cover her in dirt while bugs chewed at her corpse.

But he had to go. Or he would lose her even earlier, to himself. That would be unbearable. He would never be able to live thousands of more years peacefully if that happened. He might get over it, after how long. That made him hate himself. He looked down at her, her eyes trained to the Tv ahead of them. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and when he pulled back she pushed foreward and caught him by the mouth. He couldn’t help but think about how sweet she was.

She pushed him back even farther, and he let her. Her hands pulled him closer, as close as he could get. She would never get enough of him, of how soft he was. His skin was soft, and so was his mouth. She was sure he’d never picked at the skin there like she had. A bad habit that made her lips bleed and harden. It made her self conscious, but Jack never seemed to mind. She was glad. She wasn’t expecting him to pull away and pull off his shirt. Sure, they’d gotten showers together and all that, but that wasn’t an action with sexual intent behind it. They’d never gotten that far. She assumed he never wanted it, or that she wasn’t desirable. Or maybe demon-like creatures like him just weren’t into things like that.

Him pulling her into his lap seemed to tell her otherwise. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Her mind was a mess. Were they about to have sex? Did he want it? Did she want it? Of couse she did. But did he? Her hands shook, so she gripped his arms, a bit embarrassingly. He probably noticed. He kissed her forehead, sweetly.

“Do you want to?”

She practically gulped. She was incredibly nervous, and her anxiety kept reaching new heights. She’d never even kissed someone before Jack came into her life. She had never been close enough to a person before. This went from 0-100 in minutes. She nodded anyways, but he didn’t seem to believe her.

“Are you sure? You look pale. We don’t have to. We can just go back to cuddling and watching Tv. Okay?”

“No, i’m just nervous. I’ve never done any of this.”

“That’s okay. I don’t think I have either.”

“You don’t think?”

“I don’t remember much of my human life. I might’ve, but who knows?”

That made her laugh a little, even though it was a bit sad. She felt better, but was still nervous. What if He didn’t like her body, or he was grossed out by it? When was even the last time she shaved literally anything on her body? Probably at least a week or two. She was sure he’d find that disgusting.

“We really don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to. But I also haven’t shaved it a while.”

He wanted to laugh at that. That was her reason? He thought it was silly, but if it was serious for her then he’d try to take it seriously too.

“I don’t care about things like that.”

“I haven’t gotten a shower.”

“I don’t care about that either, but if getting a shower and whatever else would make you feel more comfortable then you can do that, obviously. But I really, really, don’t care about any of that stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am positive. It seems a bit shallow to really care about something like that. And I honestly find you beautiful no matter what form to appear in. I would still love you just the same if you were covered in dog shit. I wouldn’t fuck you until you got a bath...but I would still love you.”

He felt like she needed just the right amount of love and validation from him to feel more confident, and he hoped he was making her feel better.

“I love you.”

He smiled at her and replied back with, “I love you too.”

He decided not to add ‘more’ or they would get into a full verbal war over who loved and missed who more. It was endearing to watch her fight over it so seriously, but tiring when it went on for more than thirty minutes.

He kissed her forehead again, waiting for her to make the next move. He wouldn’t do anything if she didn’t want him to something. He tried to be gentle and caring with her at all times, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. Even if it was the opposite of his nature.

She moved a bit cautiously, and he thought it was cute. Her mouth caught his, and he let her lead. He didn’t exactly know what he was doing anyways, so he figured he might as well go with it. She never sped up, so he didn’t either. She pulled off her clothes slowly, and still a bit nervously. He asked her again if she was sure. And she said yes, and kissed him harder.

He waited till she seemed more comfortable, then picked her up and carried her to the bed. The couch looked uncomfortable to her, and he didn’t want that to be a factor in her nervousness. She felt so soft, and he briefly wondered what he did to deserve this. This sweetness.

She held him closer to her, wrapping her legs against his waist. She had the quick thought that even his waist was perfect, and that that wasn’t really fair. His grey skin somehow made him even prettier, and she continued to think that through the whole night. He was gentle with her, even at the cost of his own pleasure. To him, it was worth everything and more to see her writhe under him, gripping onto him like there was no tomorrow. Her nails dug into his back, and she apologized profusely afterwards, even though he absolutely loved it.

He wanted to watch her move like that everyday for the rest of his never ending life. He only focused on her, and the faces she made. She would try to hide her face in his shoulder, or with a hand, but he always pulled it away so he could see. He kissed her everywhere, touched her everywhere, and she returned the favor, even though they really both had no idea what they were doing at first. It was endearing to watch her do her best for him, and Jack thought he’d never need anything else if only he could have her forever.

One day, she would turn to ash. But until then they would spend every moment they had together loving each other beyond comparison. He would spend his every waking moment living for her, until she would live no more.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

First Journey

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Four

A JSE Fanfic

Another one :D Chase continues to get to know everyone, and soon goes on his first mission as an official Phantom. There’s a bit of a time skip in between that, but hey, I don’t think it would’ve been too interesting to hear about every single day Chase spends at Wyvernlair. Anyway, yeah. Don’t have much to say, so just read on and enjoy ^-^

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

By the time the sun set and everyone started to head towards the cooking fires for dinner, Chase’s arms were aching from the effort of shooting a bow for hours. They felt less like part of him and more like useless things hanging from his shoulders. He was glad the day was over. The whole thing had been a lot to take in, and that training at the end had just made him exhausted physically as well as mentally.

Just like the previous night, Chase lingered around the edges of the cooking fires, instead of actually doing much mingling. It looked like almost all of the Phantoms were here, either getting food or doing the cooking themselves. Most had taken their masks off and had them in their hands or around their necks as they chattered in groups with each other. Chase, however, just waited for more people to clear up so he could feel comfortable getting food. He headed over towards the dragon leg bones that were in the area and sat down near the end, on one of the smaller bones that could serve as a bench. Some time passed, and more and more people arrived.

“Are you actually going to get something, or just sit and stare?”

Chase yelped, and twisted around to see Henrik standing behind him. “Oh. Hello.” He’d almost forgotten that Henrik had said he’d meet up with him at dinner. “How are you doing?”

“I am alright.” Henrik sat down next to him. “I would ask you the same, but I think I can tell everything by the expression on your face.”

“Do I look that bad?” Chase groaned.

“No, not bad. Just tired.” Henrik paused. “Am I right?”

“You’re right.” Chase rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m still...trying to understand everything. All this about medicine and magic and everything else. And having to prepare for combat, you know? I may be a hunter, but I’ve never fought a person. Unless you count getting into squabbles when I was a kid, and even then, it never came to blows.”

“Oh.” Henrik looked away. “Maybe I should not have insisted you do everything at once. I’m sorry. I thought it would help you to be part of the group, if you knew what you needed sooner, instead of later.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not you,” Chase hurried to say. “It’s the whole situation. I just need time.”

“Right.” Henrik hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more. But then he shook his head a little, and said nothing.

“What? What is it?” Chase asked.

“Nevermind, if you are feeling overwhelmed, I do not want to add to it—”

“No, please, if there’s anything else, say it now. You’re right, I’d rather have everything laid out at once.”

Henrik sighed. “Well...you see, now that you are all caught up, we usually have you choose where you want to fit in. We have these—here.” His mask was hanging off his belt, and he reached down and picked it up. “You’ve noticed the symbols on the forehead by now, yes? That tells everyone what you do. It’s a helpful shortcut, since we all have different skills.”

“Ah.” Chase nods, recalling the different symbols he’d seen. There was the straight line with the curved lines wrapped around it, the circle with two dots, the X with two dots, and the card suits. “There are four, right?”

“Five, actually,” Henrik corrected. “You probably haven’t seen the fifth up close, ah...” He turned towards everyone else gathered around the cooking fires. “See, look, over there. It’s on Ana’s mask.” And he gestured towards a nearby redheaded woman, wearing a mask in the shape of a floppy-eared dog. The symbol on her forehead was a five-pointed star.

“Alright, five,” Chase nodded. “What do they mean?”

“The one I have here means medicine,” Henrik said, tapping his mask. “Or otherwise, support. We are also all birds so that we can be picked out easily in an emergency. Then the circle and cross are for combat, those are the types who go out on missions.”

“Why are there two?” Chase asked, raising an eyebrow.

Henrik shrugged. “Different skill sets. I’m not sure on the specifics, that is Jackie’s area of expertise. But circles are more direct, I believe. Like warriors. Then the star is for organization, things like records and messengers. And the card symbols mean you are a magic-wielder.”

“And why use the card suits for magic?” Chase pressed. “To my knowledge, card games aren’t magical.”

“Ah—well—w-we didn’t choose that particular symbol,” Henrik said, and then quickly moved on. “Of course, you do not have to choose now. We can put this on the shelf and you can think it over. Oh, but I should tell you now, you cannot have your own mask just yet, with your own chosen animal. You will have to use one of our extras until we get some plaster.”

“That’s fine. I don’t know what animal I’d want to be, anyway.” Chase fell silent for a minute, watching the others gathered around the fires. Someone had started playing an instrument, and the sound of strumming was soon joined in by a few people singing along. Many of them were clearly missing the notes, but they made up for that with the joy in their voices. “Yea, I’ll think about it.”

Henrik nodded, and said nothing, joining him in on watching the others. After a moment, he took a small flask out of a pouch on his belt and drank.

“That can’t hold that much ale,” Chase said. “You wouldn’t get anything out of that.”

At that remark, Henrik spluttered, and almost choked before managing to swallow the mouthful of liquid he’d just taken. “It’s not ale,” he said, voice a bit hoarse. “I-I do not—drink anything of that sort.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Chase said, embarrassed. “I was going to joke about having some, but, um, sounds like it’s...just water, then?”

“No, no.” Henrik capped the flask and put it back in the pouch. “Is medicine, actually. You would not want any.”

“Oh,” Chase repeated. He could tell that Henrik didn’t want the issue pressed any further. And who could blame him, really? Something like that was fairly personal. “Hmm...you know, I was thinking, and...I don’t actually know that much about you, do I?”

“I assure you, you know more than anyone here except Jackie,” Henrik said drily. “Most of the Phantoms know I am a doctor, but not that I travel.”

“I don’t just mean your occupation, I mean a lot more than that. Like, for example, how old are you? Do you have any family? Are you courting anyone? Things like that.”

Henrik started to smile a bit. “I am twenty-nine years old.”

“You’re a year younger than me?!” Chase gasped.

“Hey, I don’t look that old, do I?” Henrik nudged his shoulder.

“No, you don’t, really. I just...guess you seem it,” Chase said slowly. “You sound and act like you have a lot of experience.”

“Well, thank you,” Henrik said, flattered. “As for family, my parents still live in Alterde. I used to write to them, but not anymore.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Hmm.” Henrik pursed his lips. “It is a long story. What about your family?”

Chase shook his head. “Mam and Dad are gone, have been for years now. I don’t have any siblings. Stacia had a sister, but she went down into the flatlands to become a merchant. So, really, it’s only been me, Stacia, and the kids.” His heart was starting to sink the more he talked, so he quickly moved on. “Can’t help but notice you changed the subject just before you answered my last question.”

“Hmm? And what was that?” Henrik asked, clearly feigning ignorance.

“Ohhhh, I see.” A wide grin spread across Chase’s face. “So, you’re not actively courting anyone, but you’re pining. Is that it?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Henrik said, not looking him in the eye.

At that moment, someone approached the pair from the side, recognizable even from a distance because of that red cloak. “I’m missing some context, but I think I can figure out what’s going on here,” Jackie said. “Come on, Henrik, everyone knows. I thought Chase needed to be on page with everyone, riiiiight?”

“I—not like—this is—” Henrik stammered for a while, then tried to change the subject again. “What are you holding?”

“Well I saw you two being lonely out here on the edge, so I thought I’d bring you some food.” Jackie was awkwardly holding three plates, two in one hand and one in the other. “Here.” He set two of the plates down on the bone next to each of them. “I hope you like venison, Chase.”

Chase scoffed a bit. “You remember you’re talking to a hunter, right? I was raised on venison.” He picked up the nearby plate, noting the fork balanced on top of the meat. “Elders, you guys must have a lot of dishes.”

“Oh you have no idea,” Jackie muttered. “We rotate cooking and cleaning every week, so remember to check the chore notice by storage to see if it’s your turn to wash them all.”

“I’m already dreading it,” Chase assured him. “Also, I can’t help but notice Henrik still hasn’t answered my question about if he’s courting anyone.”

“Shush,” Henrik said, face slowly growing red.

Jackie chuckled. “Nothing official. He just happens to like a certain someone. But he’s not at this camp, so Schneep’s just been waiting, and I’m sure the moment they’re reunited he’s going to run right at him and profess all his feelings in a poetic—”

“Schwestern verdammit, Jackie!” Henrik threw his fork at Jackie, who just laughed and let it hit him. “Can you not do this?!”

Jackie couldn’t speak, he was too busy laughing. The best he could do was hand him his fork again.

“Well, then,” Chase muttered. “I guess that’s an answer.”

Henrik sighed. “Do not—tell anyone. I suppose everyone...knows already, but please don’t. I am not sure if he’ll...feel the same. And I want to be more sure before he finds out through rumors.”

“Alright, Henrik,” Chase said cheerfully, shrugging. “I understand. Besides, I don’t even know who you’re referring to, so I wouldn’t even know who to talk about.”

“...thank you.” Henrik let out a breath, and glared at Jackie.

“Aw, you love me,” Jackie grinned. He pushed his wolf mask off, and turned to Chase. “And if you’re going to ask me that question, the answer is no, I’m not courting anyone. Don’t have my eye on anyone either, but I don’t have a preference, so I’m sure I’ll find someone eventually. Maybe once things are less busy.”

“Good luck on that, then,” Chase nodded.

Jackie smiled wider. This was the first time Chase had seen him without the mask covering the upper half of his face. There was a small scar next to his right eye, short but straight, probably caused by a blade. And he looked...younger than Chase expected. Much like Henrik, he thought Jackie would be older than him, but he seemed to be the same age as him, if not younger. For a moment, Chase wondered how these two got mixed up in this whole rebellion situation. Were they affected by the King’s actions like he was? Or in some other way? Or something else he couldn’t come up with? And why were their masks the only ones that had color?

Before he could ask any of these questions, Henrik decided it was once again time to change the subject. “Ah, Chase, I have been meaning to ask you.” He cleared his throat. “Would you like to...learn how to read better?”

“Huh?” It took Chase a moment to return to the present. “Well, I guess. It would be helpful to know more. Why, do you want to teach me?”

“A-ah, I don’t know if I would be a good teacher,” Henrik mumbled.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you were pretty good at teaching me,” Jackie said. “And that was while you yourself were still learning the language!”

“You know most of that wasn’t me, it was—” Henrik suddenly stopped, glanced at Chase, and abruptly moved on. “There is more to teaching than just knowing the language.”

“I know, and you were pretty good at it.”

“I was going to say that we would find someone who would have more time on their hands, we are busy—”

“Not as much now that you’re not travelling anymore. Besides, I think it would work best with you two together, you already sort of know each other, and you’re getting along well. It’d just be complicated to shove Chase at someone new, he already met enough new people today.”

Henrik tried to argue further, but Jackie just looked at him, his expression a strange mix of pleading and stubbornness. So, Henrik just sighed, and turned to Chase. “Would you want me to teach you?”

After a moment, Chase nodded. “Yea. Jackie’s right, w-we already know each other, it’ll be easiest.”

Henrik looked up to the sky. “Alright, then. I will find some time, Sisters willing.”

“Great!” Jackie gave Henrik a quick one-armed hug. “Now you two should actually eat the food I brought you. It’ll get cold fast.” And with that, he disappeared back into the rest of the crowd.

Chase watched him go. “He’s...something, isn’t he?”

Henrik laughed quietly. “You are right.” Then he looked at Chase. “So, is that it, then?”

“Reading. Yea.” Chase paused. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course it is not. It’s my schedule that is the trouble.” Henrik shook his head. “Now, please. We should eat.”

They ate quietly, and afterwards, Chase went back to his tent. The moment he laid down, he was asleep, too tired to do anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time passed. Days, at first, and then weeks. Frost started to linger on the ground, and people started wearing two jackets or cloaks to block out the cold. Personally, Chase was content with his one jacket and hat. Maybe he was more used to the cold than the other members of the Masked Phantoms. Or maybe he was just too busy to feel the chill.

It took him a few more days than expected to decide where he’d fit in. Obviously, he didn’t have any magic, so he couldn’t help with any magic-related tasks. And after thinking about it, he didn’t really have the mind for medicine. There was just so much to remember, not just about medicine itself, but also how the body worked, and he’d have to look after so many people. Sure, he might know a bit about simple injuries and common illnesses, but just the extent to which Henrik and Nemet and all the other doctors had to remember and learn...he didn’t think he was cut out for it. It was a similar case for the more administrative tasks. He’d never been very organized. It didn’t seem like a good fit.

So, instead, he turned his attention to his skills. He was a hunter. So, on some level, combat made sense. It was also the one that involved the most action. Groups and individuals were frequently leaving and returning to camp, many of them wearing masks with the circles or crosses that indicated they were fighters. That was what Chase wanted to do. Direct action. But not too direct. He wasn’t a warrior, after all. And Henrik had described the circles as being like warriors...given the process of elimination, the result was obvious.

But he figured that out quickly. The reason he hesitated to commit to that particular branch of the Phantoms...was because of Lukas. Chase picked up that Lukas and Holly were in charge of the two combat-based branches, with Lukass leading the crosses and Holly leading the circles. And Lukas continued to show a deep mistrust of him that was honestly unnerving. He brought it up with Jackie and Henrik, but they each reassured him that Lukas would learn to get along with him. But...that didn’t seem to be happening. In fact, Chase felt like Lukas was going out of his way to keep an eye on him. Every time Chase went out to the combat fields, Lukas was there, insisting that he show off his bow skills. And sometimes, Chase even thought he could see the fox-masked man following him around camp. But that last part might just be paranoia and mistaken identity. After all, there were many different animal masks at Wyvernlair.

Eventually, Chase realized he might be taking too long to decide, so he gritted his teeth, and told Jackie about his choice the next time he saw him. Jackie was excited, as he usually seemed to be, and took him to storage to pick up one of the spare masks. There were three spares marked with the crosses: a wolf, a mouse, and a hedgehog. Chase didn’t want to choose the same wolf theme as Jackie, so he went for the hedgehog. Stacia had always thought those were cute.

Of course, it turned out that his anticipation of difficulties with Lukas...was entirely correct. He seemed a bit surprised to hear that Chase had decided to join the branch he was in charge of, but he quickly got over that feeling and doubled down on his obvious distrust. Every day, he’d meet Chase at the combat fields, and give him a target range to shoot at...over and over and over. And they got more difficult each day. He said he was trying to improve Chase’s mediocre shooting ability, but Chase got the impression he wanted him to fail.

On the bright side, once he got a mask of his own, even if it was only a spare, everyone else quickly accepted that he was part of the Phantoms. And once that happened, it was easy to get to know everyone. Nemet was already familiar with him, so she’d stop by every so often to check on him, and to insist that he keep his tent in order. Holly regularly intervened when Lukas started to go a bit too far in his ‘archery practice,’ and every so often, gave Chase short lessons in self-defense. Tripp, the sorcerer, kept popping out of nowhere to strike up a conversation about some random topic before disappearing. And of course, Jackie and Henrik were always around.

Somehow, the fact that Chase was getting to know all these people seemed to upset Lukas, making him even more suspicious.

Though, there was something strange that Chase was noticing. As he became familiar with other Phantoms, he got the distinct impression that...something was missing. He wasn’t sure how else to describe it. When he talked to people, they’d sometimes start to say something, then change the subject. How’d they manage to find these dragon bones? Who came up with the idea to make the masks animals? Are there quite a lot of magic-wielders in the group? Questions like that got glossed over, and soon, Chase began to realize there was an empty hole in the Phantoms that nobody wanted to talk about. An empty hole...where a person might fit.

This realization only made him more curious about whoever-this-was who was missing. But if nobody was giving him the answers to the small questions, he doubted they’d say anything if he just bluntly asked about this person. But the thought just wouldn’t go away. Maybe...he could ask Henrik? He seemed the most likely to give him some sort of answer. Perhaps he could bring it up during one of their reading lessons.

The lessons weren’t too bad, really. Chase already knew a fair amount, so they weren’t starting from scratch. He already knew how to put together sentences and could read most commonly-used words. But oftentimes the lessons were short, as Henrik got called away to do something or other really quickly. This meant that progress was still slow, even with Chase practicing on his own.

Where he struggled most was with the new words. He recognized every one so far from speech, but his mind couldn’t match up the spelling with the sounds. Mostly because they were, in his opinion, not spelled how they sounded at all.

In one lesson, he threw the chalk he was using away and exclaimed “Why do they combine the letters?! It would be so much easier to have one letter for every sound!”

“Oh, I do not disagree with you there,” Henrik said, standing up to retrieve the chalk. They’d taken to holding the lessons on the edge of camp, where the trees of the forest once again started to appear. The chalk had hit one of said trees, and Henrik found it quickly. He walked back to his spot next to Chase, sat on the ground next to him, and handed him the chalk

Chase grumbled and pressed the chalk hard into the board they were using. Copying the letters and words was easy, even if his handwriting was a bit crooked and looked like a ramshackle hut next to Henrik’s solidly built houses of letters. But recognizing the words? “Why don’t they change it so it makes more sense?”

Henrik shrugged. “Alphabets do not just change automatically. It is something that happens slowly, over time. From what I understand, the one that most nations use today is put together by combining symbols from many different places. Of course, many nations that are farther away use their own. And even some close by are stubborn to keep their own letters.”

“We should’ve kept our own letters,” Chase muttered.

“Hmm?” Henrik’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. That doesn’t even make sense. I’m just frustrated.” Honestly, Chase wondered if Glasúil ever had its own alphabet. The single kingdom was once home to several different clans, each with their own customs. They probably each had an alphabet, and when the kingdom was united, decided it was too much trouble to pick one or combine them, so they brought in an alphabet from beyond the island.

“Ah, I see. Well, I think you’re doing very well.” Henrik looked up towards the sky. “But unfortunately, I will have to leave soon.”

“Aw.” Chase erased the words on the board with his jacket sleeve. “Tooooo bad.”

Henrik scoffed. “Well, remember you have to practice words with those combined letters—”

“Yea, I got it, Henrik. Ancient elders, you can be a stick in the ground sometimes.”

Despite Chase’s tone, Henrik smiled briefly. “Before I go, I have to tell you something. Or, well, I should ask first. Are you ready to go on your first mission?”

Chase perked up. In the weeks he’d spent here, he hadn’t gone on one mission to help the Phantoms. The timing was perfect; he was starting to get restless. “Of course. What is it? What do I have to do?”

“Nothing too risky, not for your first time. But recently, we heard that there were...unusual visitors in the surviving mountain villages. The ones more...downhill. Farther from the Greatwoods. It may be nothing, but we should go see. Since you are familiar with the mountains, it seemed a good idea to ask you go to along.”

“It’s a group?” That made sense. If they didn’t want too much risk on his first mission, there would be safety in numbers. “Who else is going?”

“Jackie—”

“Jackie’s going? He could’ve asked me himself.”

Henrik huffed. “He was going to tell you, but he got sidetracked by business, so he asked me to tell you, since I would be seeing you first. Elin is also going, she is a sorcerer. And Kenneth, who is a doctor.”

“Four people.” Chase nodded. “Maybe you should come, too, round it up to five for luck.”

“I am delighted that you’d want my company, but...well, must I really repeat my scheduling problems?” Henrik sighed. “Besides, if Jackie is gone, someone has to be here to make sure everything goes well. I assure you, Kenneth is a wonderful doctor.”

“I’m sure,” Chase nodded. Though he was a bit sad Henrik wouldn’t be coming, he knew it would’ve been difficult. At least Jackie would be there. “When are we leaving? Did Jackie tell you?”

“Two days from now,” Henrik said.

“Oh. That’s sooner than I expected,” Chase admitted.

“You have to account for travel time,” Henrik explained. “I understand the village is three days from here, if you go straight. Possibly four.” He once again glanced up at the sky, and stood up. “Alright, I really must go now. Remember to practice.”

“Yea, I hear you. Be seeing you.” Chase waved Henrik off as he headed back towards the main body of Wyvernlair, passing in between the distant—but still large even this far away—bones of the dragon, and disappearing from sight.

Two days, huh? Chase supposed that was enough time to prepare. Sighing, he stood up, grabbing the board and chalk. And maybe enough time to finally get a hang of some of these letter combinations. He might as well get started now. Once he left for this mission, it would be a few days before he’d see Henrik again for another lesson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, Chase met up with Jackie and the two others, and they set off before the morning frost started to melt. The journey itself wasn’t too exciting. Just a lot of traveling through the woods. The other two people on the mission, Elin and Kenneth—a pair of siblings wearing near-identical goat masks—weren’t very talkative, so Jackie filled most of the silence. The most surprising thing was the number of animals Chase was seeing. The area of the woods around his town had been so empty, even for late fall. But as they moved farther from camp, he saw all kinds of woodland creatures, even a few deer. That was strange.

Something that wasn’t strange, but took some getting used to, was that everyone was carrying weapons. Chase was used to having a bow on his back and a quiver by his side, but it was strange to look at his companions and see them armed as well. Elin had a pair of daggers dangling from her belt, while Kenneth had a single, broad-bladed sword that he carried on his back. Jackie had two swords, one on his back and one on his hip. Chase found that odd, but he was sure Jackie knew what he was doing. Jackie had insisted Chase carry a knife as well as he bow, just in case. So one of the swords must’ve been a spare, ‘just in case.’

But the journey passed surprisingly quickly, and the next thing Chase knew, three days had gone by, and Jackie was gathering the three of them to talk about their approach to the mountain village, called Skytown.

“Alright, we’re going to circle around so we’re approaching from the east, that way it’ll look like we just came from downhill instead of the forest. That won’t be unusual, I understand this village gets a lot of visitors from farther down. Everyone alright with that?”

Everyone nodded slowly. “We would blend in more as visitors if we had horses,” Elin muttered. The few times she’d spoken up on the journey had all been talking about horses.

“Damn it, Elin,” Kenneth sighed. “Do we have to talk about the unsuitable terrain again?”

“No, no, I was just pointing it out.” Elin paused. “But I still don’t understand why people bring horses up into the north mountains, but not here. They’re both mountains. And the Northavens are much rockier.”

“It’s not about rocks, it’s about sudden ups and downs and the steepness of the slope. People can climb, horses can’t.”

“Alright, you two, break it off,” Jackie said. “Chase, are you on board with us?”

Chase nodded. “Um...can I say something, though?”

“What?” Jackie asked.

“I think I should stay back. If you’re planning to pretend to be visitors from the flatlands, that is.”

“Hmm?” Jackie tilted his head. “Interesting. Why?”

“Well, something I’ve noticed is that all of you from the flatlands talk differently than me,” Chase said. “Not too much, but it’s noticeable. See, just the fact that I call the rest of the kingdom ‘the flatlands’ would give away that I’m actually from the mountains. So, if you’re going to pretend to be visitors, I should stay back, because I’d give it away.”

“You could just not talk,” Elin suggested.

Chase considered this. “I guess that could work...but it might be hard.”

“Let’s talk about it again when we’re out of the forest,” Jackie said. “C’mon, get moving everyone. We’re almost there.”

By now, the colorful autumn foliage of the trees had mostly fallen off, making a carpet of brown leaves on the forest floor and leaving the branches above bare in many places. And Chase had noticed that the trees were starting to spread out, less close together like they were deeper in the forest. Jackie was right; they were almost to the edge of the forest. Though the area itself was unfamiliar to Chase, it felt similar to home.

While looking around these surroundings, he saw something move. He almost missed it, on the very edge of his vision. Chase stopped, turning to look. Was that...a deer?

“Chase! Keep up!” Jackie called.

“Sorry!” Chase looked away for a moment, hurrying to catch up with the others. When he glanced back, the deer-shaped thing was gone.

Soon, the trees thinned out, and the four of them stood on the edge of the forest, overlooking the mountain village Skytown. It was quite a bit bigger than the Hilltown Chase called home. All the buildings were solid stone, large enough for at least four rooms, with thatched roofs that hadn’t been present back in Hilltown. People still bustled about, but their clothes were a bit nicer, with less patches. Was this because Skytown was downhill, closer to the rest of the kingdom?

“Nothing looks strange from up here,” Kenneth said, shielding his eyes against the sun. “What would these unusual people look like?”

“The reports said they were dressed nicely, almost nobly,” Jackie said. “And there was at least one of them wearing the royal crest.”

Elin raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

“Alright. Chase.” Jackie turned to look at him. “Do you still want to stay behind?”

“Um...” Chase hesitated. Stalling for time, he once again looked around the forested surroundings. Back home, the trees almost curved around Hilltown, leaving only one side that was open. Here, it was the opposite. Most of the area around Skytown was open, covered in grass and rocks, and the forest was only to the west. It felt a bit strange, seeing all that wide, clear space.

Idly, Chase looked over his shoulder. And froze. There was a deer there. Some ways away, blending in with the brown forest, mostly hidden by the trunks of the trees. But its antlers...they drew his eyes. Gilded. Golden. And from there, he noticed that the deer was looking right at him.

His heart stopped.

“Chase? Is everything okay?” Jackie asked, concerned.

“Y-yes.” Chase turned back around. “I...think I’ll stay back here. I’ll be the cavalry. If something happens, just send me a sign, I’ll come running.”

“Are you sure?” Jackie asked. “You don’t want to get closer, at least?”

“No, this is the only place nearby with cover,” Chase insisted.

Jackie looked unsure, but he nodded. “Alright. We’ll send you a sign, somehow.”

“I could do that,” Elin said, wiggling her fingers.

“We won’t be long, though. Be on the lookout.” Jackie turned to the others. “Alright, masks off and hidden. We want to look normal. If there’s an emergency, put them on first before anything else.” The other two nodded, and he looked back at Chase. “We’ll be back soon.”

Chase nodded, taking a step back into the forest. “Good luck.”

He watched as they hid their masks behind their cloaks, then headed out, circling around the village, eventually shrinking into the distance. The moment they were gone, he turned back around.

The deer was still there.

In fact, it was closer.

What was he supposed to do? “Is this...is this because I almost shot you that night?” he finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know it was you. Had I known, I never would’ve taken aim.”

The deer’s ear flicked. Its head moved side to side, as if shaking ‘no’ in response to his question.

“Then...what? What is it?” Chase waited, but didn’t get another response. He blinked. And suddenly, the deer was even closer. “I-if I’ve done something to wrong you, or any of the Elders, I-I sincerely apologize, and assure you it was done in ignorance, not malice.”

Another shake of the deer’s head. He blinked again, and suddenly it was right in front of him, close enough that he felt hot breath on his face. It was an unusually large deer. Most of the ones he’d encountered had their head reach his chest, not counting the antlers. But this...the deer’s eyes were level with his, large and unfathomably dark.

His head started to spin. The ground tilted beneath his feet, but he didn’t fall. For a moment, everything was alive. The forest floor was breathing, the rocks were mumbling, the trees were staring at him, the sky above was filled with a foreign presence. The world was vast, it was living, and he could reach out and touch the soul of everything.

Then the deer blinked. And Chase gasped, staggering backwards, losing his balance and landing hard on his back. Groaning, he sat up again. Wait a minute...had the sun changed position? He could’ve sworn it was closer to the eastern horizon a few seconds ago. The difference wasn’t large, but it was noticeable. Confused, he looked back at the deer.

It blinked again, slowly. Then it looked away from him, towards something behind him. Its head moved up...and down. Like a nod. Chase, turned around.

There was a plume of smoke rising into the sky from the village.

Chase gasped, and scrambled to his feet. He glanced back over his shoulder, but the deer was gone. What had that all been about? No, this wasn’t the time. If anything was a sign, that was it. He made sure that he still had his bow and quiver with him—of course he did—and pulled the hedgehog mask onto his face. Then, he ran.

The town wasn’t quite in chaos yet, but it was getting close. The townsfolk were shouting and pointing, but not fleeing in panic. He got more than a few baffled looks as he passed through, but he ignored them, and headed towards the fire, near the village center. And the closer her got, the more people he ran past who were, in fact, fleeing in panic.

By the time he reached the center, the air was filled with smoke. He skidded to a halt, taking a moment to breathe through it.

The center was taken up by a wide square, with a well in the middle. It was the buildings around this square that were on fire, their thatched roofs aflame...as well as the stone walls. Chase was taken aback by the familiar, strange sight. But then he turned his attention to the few people in the square.

A fight had broken out. Or, more accurately, three separate fights, one for each of his masked companions. Nearest to him, Kenneth had pulled out his sword and was dueling with a man. A man wearing a black tunic with the royal crest on the back. And it looked like this man considerably outmatched Kenneth in skill, because he kept forcing him to back up. Across the square, Jackie was also in a battle of swords, but his battle was very different. Three people—two men and a woman—were attacking him, but he was easily holding his own, dancing around them in a whirl of scarlet cloak. And he was using both swords. Chase had never seen or heard of anything like it, but the way Jackie was moving, you’d think there’d never been any other way to use a sword, other than in pairs.

The strangest fight was happening in the middle of the square, around the well. Strange because there were no weapons being used. Instead, this was a battle of magic. Elin and another woman were circling each other, with the well in the center. The strange woman had something in her hand, something glowing, and she’d pull some of that glowing light away from the object and hurl it towards Elin. The moment the glow left her hands it became a raging ball of fire, but Elin was expertly drawing water from the well in fluid streams, shaping it to shield her. She kept glancing back at the burning buildings, but when she tried to send water that way, the strange woman would throw another fireball that she had to deflect.

Nobody had noticed Chase yet. Taking advantage of that fact, he quickly pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it on his bow. He got ready to loose the arrow, but hesitated. He’d never shot at a person before.

At that moment, Elin glanced back at the fire again, and her shield of water wavered. The strange woman threw another fireball, hot enough to fly through the weak shield without disappearing. Elin screamed as it hit her shoulder.

And Chase snapped to action, shooting his arrow towards the strange woman. It landed in her back, and she screamed as well.

The man in the black tunic stopped his duel with Kenneth, spinning around. “Lady Tinechroí!” he shouted. And the moment he was distracted, Kenneth turned and fled. He ran towards Elin, who had fallen to the ground, clutching her shoulder.

The other three strangers attacking Jackie also stopped to turn, and in that moment, Jackie brought one of his swords down on one of the two men, wounding him in a splash of red. The other two cried out, and Chase nocked another arrow, shooting towards the other man. That arrow hit him in the leg, causing him to bend over, and Jackie hit him in the back of the head with the hilt of his other sword. Then he turned quickly to block an attack from the woman, the last attacker.

“You.”

The single word was filled with venom, and Chase immediately knew it was directed at him. He turned to look. The strange woman, the one he’d shot in the back, was now leaning against the well for support. In that moment, Chase managed to take in a few details about her. Pale blonde hair, pulled back in a braid. Unnaturally bright blue eyes. Wearing a purple tunic and trousers that were embroidered with gold, looking very fine. In her hand, she held a silver brooch with a red gem in the center. And then the gem started to glow. In a split second, that glow ran up the woman’s arm and into her body. She glowed bright white, and pointed her other hand at him.

Chase immediately turned and leaped behind the nearest building. A bright white bolt hit the corner near where he’d been standing, breaking off the stone, showering him in pieces of broken wall. “Shit!” he shouted, covering his face just in time to block a fist-sized stone piece.

“We need to get out of here!” Jackie yelled. Chase peeked around the broken corner at the sound of it. The man in the black tunic and the woman who’d been fighting Jackie were now helping the other, strange woman stand, supporting her. A similar situation was happening with his own companions. Jackie and Kenneth were helping Elin up, as she weakly directed streams of water from the well onto the burning buildings nearby: not fully putting them out, but making the flames smaller.

Jackie saw Chase peeking around the corner. He pointed to the left. Chase nodded, and ran, heading away from the burning.

Townfolk were also running, but they were heading towards the burning, many of them carrying buckets. Chase noted them briefly, scanning the area for Jackie and the others. He spotted them a few minutes later, heading towards the three of them as Jackie and Kenneth carried Elin between them. The moment he was within earshot, he shouted, “What happened?!”

“Later,” Jackie said, tilting his head towards the edge of town.

“Oh. Yes.” Chase glanced back towards the blaze, uncertain. The townsfolk could handle that, right? They seemed prepared. And it wasn’t that big a fire, comparatively. But still, he felt uneasy as the four of them turned away.

They reached the edge of the forest and kept going. And going. Once the town was out of sight and the trees were close together once again, they relaxed a bit. Kenneth started digging through his bag, pulling out small bottles of salves. Elin sat by one of the trees, wincing at the burn that covered most of her shoulder. Jackie sheathed the sword he still had out and breathed a sigh of relief. “That was bad.”

“What was all that about?” Chase asked once again. “You were in town for one minute and suddenly there was fire!”

Jackie gave him an odd look. “Um...we were in there for much longer than one minute.”

Really? It hadn’t seemed like it. “Well, still, what happened?”

Jackie’s expression darkened. “They knew we were coming. I’m not sure how, but they did. Maybe they saw some of our scouts a while ago? Either way, we went into town and started searching. We looked over the whole place a couple times, but didn’t go inside anywhere. Then, out of nowhere, they burst out of one of the houses and attacked us. That wizard started throwing fire everywhere, it was a disaster.”

“A wizard, huh?” Chase whistled. “Wow. Who was she? They called her Lady—”

“Tinechroí,” Jackie muttered, bitterness lining his expression and voice.

“Um...well, yes. So she’s a noble.”

“That’s not surprising, the King has many of them in his pocket.” Jackie sighed. “Thank the elders you decided to stay in the forest. Though it must’ve gotten boring, being out there for that long by yourself.”

“...no, it wasn’t, not really,” Chase said uncertainly. “To be honest, I...lost track of time. How long were you in town?”

“Not sure. An hour, maybe.”

“Ah.” That...didn’t make sense. Chase could’ve sworn he was only waiting for a minute. But...in that minute, the deer had done something strange to him. Was it possible that more time had passed, and he just didn’t realize? “Well, thank the elders.” Quite literally, perhaps.

Jackie nodded. “We should start heading back now. I think Elin is stable now, but we should get her back to Wyvernlair quickly, just in case.”

“Yea. Let’s go.”

As they headed back, Chase remained quiet, thinking about his encounter with the deer. This was the second time he’d seen it, and the first time had been the night Hilltown burned. What did the deer want? What was its goal?

He stayed silent for the entirety of the three day journey back to camp.

[khaleesiofalicante]

HI, IT'S ME! YOUR LOCAL CHAOTIC WEIRDO!!!!! I'M BACK AGAIN LIKE I AM TWICE EVERY WEEK

IT'S MY BOY DAVID THIS TIME! WHY AM I SO HYPER! MAYBE BECAUSE THEY KISSED! AND I HAD TO SUPPRESS MY SCREAMS BCAUSE IM IN CLASS AND THE REST OF MY FAMILY IS OUTSIDE MY DOOR (NOT LITERALLY OFC)

OK OK OK OK OK OK

MAX AND DAVID ARE AT THE LONDON INSTITUTE YESYESYESYES

He rather liked that part in a story – when the hero fell, and everything seemed bleak. It always meant that hope was just around the corner. Because darkness never lasted. It was always followed by light. There was nothing more beautiful than that kind of sunrise.

THIS

I literally live my life by this analogy

AHHH DAVID IS ON HIS TRAVEL YEAR AND MAX IS WITH HIM

SCREAM

well i can't scream because my mom is sitting right there and I have class in 4 minutes so imma smile really wide

“Are you planning to read the entire library during your travel year?” Max chuckled.

“Of course not,” David replied. “I will need longer than a year to accomplish that goal.”

Me.

Wait

does max not being able to make portals have something to do with his lineage?

like

demon parent

ok so my programming class started 2 minutes early but screw programming I'm gonna be studying minds not this shit

ok that's a very bad attitude for someone who needs good grades in this year

Max was always hungry.

this is so me

KIT

KIT

KIT

KIT

KIT

KIT

TY

THEY MENTIONED TY

also if David doesn't become an institute head in the future THEN WHAT'S THE POINT

“Where is the kitchen?” Max interrupted.

max is such a mood

He had told Max that he had centuries to perfect his magic, that there was no need to rush it. Max had given him a noncommittal nod and nothing more.

HE'S GONNA MAKE THE BEST PORTALS YOU'LL SEE

“I won’t tell the Consul,” Kit winked.

At the mention of the Consul, David straightened up. He had been trying to get into Alec Lightwood’s good graces for years now. He didn’t think sharing a room with his son would do him any favors.

DAVID UDUCDFUHKDUHVUHSDH

PLEASE IF WE DON'T GET A CUTE ALEC AND DAVID SCENE SOON

KIT CALLED TESSA MOM

oh my god

Word was that Mr. Herondale had gone back to his obsession with brewing tea.

JACE

I have so many emotions right now but all I'm gonna say is that I'm so so proud of Rafael

“Do you not want to sleep with me?” Max asked.

UH-

WELL-

DAVID STOP THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE AND ALL THE SHIT

STOP IT

OH MY GOD THE ONE BED TROPE

MAX IS IN HIS ARMS I'M ABOUT TO-

takes a deep breath don't scream. everyone outside this door thinks you're taking programming class

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY

AWW JULIAN PAINTED PORTRAITS FOR THE INSTITUTE

The one of Will Herondale and Tessa Gray – A love that had transcended reality and lasted a lifetime.

The one of James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs – A love that had started with a lie and then blossomed into nothing but happiness and devotion.

The one of Lucie Herondale and Jesse Blackthorn – A love that had been so powerful that it rewrote the past.

The one of Jace Herondale and Clary Fairchild – A love that had walked through hell and shaken up the heavens.

And then there the final one. The one of Kit Herondale and Tiberius Blackthorn – A love that had survived distance and darkness and doom.

This omg...

He wanted a love story. The kind he read in the books. The kind he saw in these portraits.

But he wasn’t a Herondale. He wasn’t sure if he was destined for that kind of love.

HEY

DON'T THINK LIKE THAT

The first part though

same

He might have been a little too excited. It was biologically impossible to control yourself when you find a stranger reading your favorite book in the whole world.

SO TRUE

“I see you already made a new friend,” Max said.

He sounded a little…odd. As if he was not pleased that David had made a new friend.

honey...

take a guess

can I jump in and bash their heads together?

“You are thinking of conjuring chocolate syrup, aren’t you?” David chuckled.

“How do you always know what’s on my mind?” Max chuckled back.

Because I know you, David wanted to say. I just wish I knew what’s in your heart too.

OH MY GOD I CANT WITH THIS

“You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup!” Max was yelling, standing on the chair.

They residents laughed harder, and David shook his head fondly. He hoped one day Max would pursue a career in theatre. He was a born showman.

can I have chocolate syrup?

also, the way David is just so fond of him like DYUSDGYJCDYUJM

“By the angel, do you have to be a drama queen about everything?” the boy next to them muttered – not so quietly.

David blinked. That was uncalled for.

But Max being Max was completely unfazed. “Of course I do. My Bapa would be personally offended otherwise.”

exactly you rude little shit

Max often pretended like people’s words didn’t hurt him - just as he pretend that fire doesn’t burn or wounds don’t bleed.

wow ok stop calling me out

Is max jealous??????

is he??????

how are people so good at languages like damn

TY

TY

TY

TY

“Oh my god,” Max groaned. “Is he already telling people to check on me?”

LMAO

using mundane medicine...

that's risky

but it's also something that WILL help

can't warlocks tamper with the blood samples?

A part of him wondered if that’s why he had agreed to send Max away to London – at least for a week. Because sometimes you didn’t want other people to see you were hurting.

alec I really goddamn hope you're dealing with this well

some of whom had even decided to die than get help from a warlock.

alright then gets my knives but you chose this :D

Nobody brought a book down for breakfast if they didn't like to read.

yes but sometimes also to seem busy so people won't bother you or you won't look alone.

“I know,” the boy said as he walked past them to the gate. “I sat on the stairs and thought about life for a few good minutes.”

his family is the one who took over David's previous institute (i can't spell that. marse- marselli- wat??) methinks.

The gang always visited whenever all of them were in the city together. They would have so much fun! Of course, the 'fun' mostly entailed Rafael stopping Georgia from drinking random potions she found in the stalls, Selena stopping Lexi from opening a psychic booth to help people talk to Raziel and of course David stopping Max from running to the gambling booths.

LMAO, I CANT WITH THIS-

Rafe: I am anxiety.

me at any given moment

EW TESTICLES HE'S EATING THOSE-

ok maybe I'm the only person who's really picky when it comes to food and doesn't eat the majority of things

“Anything on Magnus Bane?” Max asked.

“No,” the woman snapped and shoved some of the letters into a bag and hide it under the table. “Leave Magnus Bane alone!”

“Appreciate your loyalty,” Max winked at her and started examining a diary.

I like her.

"Everyone should be participating in this" -my programming teacher

me, an intellectual: participating in what?? goes to the class web THE FUCK IS THAT

“Something for the shadowhunter?” the woman smiled. “Perhaps an unpublished snippet from the Beautiful Cordelia?”

“Do you have any love letters?” David asked.

“Hmmm,” the woman went through the pages. “I do have a correspondence between an Iblis demon and Christopher Lightwood? Would you be interested in that?”

if u don't mind I would love to see both of those-

you know I just remembered I have a computer assignment I need to submit by the end of this week fml

“Never fall in love with an immortal,” she giggled again. “We don’t like staying in one place.”

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

MAX WHERE ARE YOU

why are we using x and 3 in programming class what the heck is going on

“I’m not just some warlock,” Max said, his voice low. “I’m Magnus Bane’s son.”

GIVE HIM THAT NECKLACE BACK

we usually have programming once a week on our physical school days and those are fun because my and my friend are continuously passing notes and talking to each other through writing

The scene where Max fought off all the evil people who tried to steal his valuable belonging. He would fight without breaking a sweat and throw magic fireballs at everyone and then get his necklace back. And then he would kiss David in front of everyone and it would somehow rain all of a sudden.

But life wasn’t a movie or a book. Life was just life.

life's boring

fuck life

I just heard a student ask "why are we not taking out the values of b and c" BESTIE I THOUGHT WE WERE DOING PROGRAMMING AND NOT ALGEBRA?????

“I know there wasn’t anyone to protect you before,” Magnus Bane had said. “But we are here now. We will protect you. This will protect you.”

He hadn’t wanted it back then. He didn't even want it even now.

He didn’t want something to protect him. Most importantly, he didn’t want to cover his scar. He didn’t want to hide it. He wasn’t ashamed of it. It wasn’t a mark of a victim. It was the mark of a survivor.

So, David had smiled and given the bracelet back.

“I never wanted to be protected,” David had replied. “I only ever wanted to be loved.”

The warlock had smiled at that and given David a hug. It had felt different than other hugs he had experienced since he had come to New York.

It wasn’t just the magic. Magnus Bane carried so much love inside himself you could literally feel it through him.

I'm gonna cry during my programming class (where we're doing variables apparently all of a sudden??)

this is so beautiful

“I wasn’t talking about Bapa,” Max said now. “I was talking about the other one.”

David chuckled at that. “Oh, yeah. He is definitely going to kill you.”

what flowers would you like at your funeral?

so Jackson has family troubles

I've definitely got that

yeah I know what it's like to be jealous of someone else's perfect family

JACKSON WTF

Is he trying to ruin max's relationship with his family???

oh hell no

JACKSON THE AUDACITY

“One stolen necklace, One broken nose and One bruised cheek,” he said. “And you’ve been in London for less than a day.”

kit seriously? but is he wrong though?

“This is what I get for falling for a Lightwood-Bane,” David sighed and walked through the portal.

WELL AT LEAST HE'S SELF AWARE

Jackson...

in some ways, I can empathize with him. my younger self anyway. but Jackson this is not how you do things

There was a moment of silence and then Magnus Bane giggled.

“I do love it when the quiet ones go feral,” the warlock grinned.

MAGNUS

NOT.THE.TIME

(me too)

“David!” Mr Herondale gasped. “Is your hand okay?”

yup that's Jace y'all

David hated violence. He hated fighting – which he was often not allowed to say out loud considering he was a shadowhunter.

But it was the truth. He hated hurting people – or even things. It made him feel sick.

“It’s alright, Chouchou,” Mr Herondale ran a hand through David’s hair. “Next time, just-”

“Use my words?” David asked.

“Just don’t get caught,” the man winked.

and that is why I would never want to be a shadowhunter.

I know saying that doesn't do anything but when I first read tsc I wanted to be a shadowhunter really badly and damn that was some time ago but now...violence of any kind is my biggest trigger idek why. and I hate that so much because what kind of a person gets triggered by loud voices and fighting EVEN ON SCREEN??? I usually just push myself to watch stuff because it's dumb. I refuse to see trigger warnings before reading a book or watching a show because damn it, I should be able to stand those things I'm, not a child. and it may be doing me more harm than good but I shouldn't feel like this in the first place

okay...that was long

ANYWAY

“David, I appreciate you standing up for Max,” the Consul said. “But next time, please try not to punch anyone in the face.”

“Yes, sir,” David nodded. “Because it’s wrong.”

“Because it means more paperwork for me,” the Consul groaned and then straightened up. “But yes. Absolutely. Very wrong. No punching people!”

LMAO ALEC

Jackson...

oh

oh

oh

I was wrong then

He was grinning. Magnus Bane must have raised hell in the shadow market.

that must have been fun

Max was doing that thing where he was not trying to pout but he was mostly definitely pouting. It made David want to kiss him. But then the Consul spoke, and David reminded himself he didn’t want to be the third person to get punched in the face this evening.

well-

“I understand that Jackson has been through a lot. But that’s not an excuse for him to hurt those around him. I learned that lesson the hard way. So, you shouldn’t excuse his behaviour.”

someone's trauma and pain is never an excuse to hurt others

but that doesn't mean we should invalidate their trauma either

“You can stay back and try to help him. I won’t stop you,” the man got up now. “But if he tries to hurt you-”

“You will unleash hell?” David chuckled.

“Worse,” the other man grinned. “I will unleash Lexi.”

that is much much worse

Books brought him comfort in so many ways. Just holding one in his hands automatically made him feel better.

oh my god

he gets it

I always have a book with me when I'm out even if I'm not gonna get the time to read it because just the weight and comfort of it in my hands or in my backpack brings me so much comfort and helps with my social anxiety so much

no one understands when I try to tell them that

you get it...

someone gets it finally

AYYY IRENE

“David, it’s very sweet that you want to protect Jackson,” Kit pointed out. “But literally no one is buying that. Not even Irene.”

The lynx purred on his lap as if she agreed with Kit.

“I could break into a liquor cabinet,” David said a little indignantly.

David is the nicest you can get

David wouldn’t. Apparently, everyone already seemed to know that - even the lynx he had met five minutes ago.

we are solving something in class and it's really quiet because we're all doing our work (I'm reading the fic so-) and this one person had their mic open and they kept on whispering their steps and it was so weird I cant-

BUT YES DAVID IS A CINNAMON ROLL. EVEN THE LYNX KNOWS

“We were talking about shitty fathers,” Jackson pointed out. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“I’m gonna need something stronger than red wine for this conversation,” Kit chuckled.

I remember that bitch

David used to do it when he was a child. He used to pretend his life was a story. He used to pretend everything that happened to him was happening to some other boy – a boy who wasn’t real. A boy who lived inside a book. Because it hurt a little less when you pretend like it wasn’t happening to you.

But the pain was still very real.

OK YOU CAN STOP CALLING ME OUT NOW

“I fucking hate ogres,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Was your father an ogre too?” Jackson asked.

“He was more like a harpy,” Kit snorted. “He was always flying and fleeing. I didn’t know how deep his talons were in my head until it was too late.”

you really like traumatizing all your characters, don't you?

I really fucking hope the ogre got what he deserved

and if the angel is dead then fuck everyone

“I mean, there was that time when Sebastian Morgenstern turned my father into the endarkened, and then he went around killing people. So, I would say he was more like a zombie,” the man was explaining now. “The zombie father tried to kill me but my brother killed him first.”

“Good lord!” Jackson said in shock.

Kit chuckled softly. “Boy do shadowhunters need therapy.”

they really do

He knew about those from New York. He knew Mr Herondale and Miss Fairchild went for one together.

YES GET THEM THERAPY

“Yikes,” Kit chuckled. “I’d prefer something classier. How about London Boys?”

“None of us are from London though,” Tiberius pointed out.

“The Beatles are not actually beetles, Ty,” Kit chuckled. “It’s just for pizazz.”

damn guys

Then the idea of a band turned into a possible YouTube channel where they would react to cute animal videos.

YS DO IT

“When people do awful things, really awful things, at one point we stop being surprised. Like what Valentine did to his children or what our fathers did to us or what those women did to Rafael. We might have been shocked or disgusted. But it wasn’t unrealistic, was it?”

“I guess not,” the boy said.

“Even when they did the most unimaginable acts of cruelty, it somehow managed to fit into our imagination. We accepted that the world can be unrealistically cruel. The kind of cruelty we will never understand. But why isn’t it the same for kindness? Why is that when someone is too kind, we automatically feel uncomfortable? We judge their intensions or think they are just pretending to be nice. We think they are being unrealistic. Why is that?”

we get so used to cruelty that kindness feels weird

“But that’s how our life works, doesn’t it? It’s a giant ball of what ifs and could have beens and if nots. What if my father had loved me instead of hurt me? Could I have been kinder if I was hugged instead of being abused? Would have I been a different person if not for my trauma? Our lives are an endless collection of theories about our real selves. The one didn’t we never had the chance to become.”

THIS

I used to spend a bunch of time on the what-ifs but those are useless. so screw the what-ifs and live in the present

“I guess we’ll never know, Jackson. None of us will never know how we would have turned out if things had been different for us. We never got the chance to be who were meant to be. Instead, we became who we had to become to survive what we went through. We will never know our true selves. We only know the version of us that made it through all the trauma.”

“Christ, that’s depressing,” Jackson said.

“It is,” David nodded. “But we made it through. We survived. I think we should focus on that.”

you survived. that's what matters

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be rescued,” David smiled.

I wish I had heard this before...

maybe I don't always have to be strong. maybe it's ok sometimes just want to be saved.

I'm so happy that both Jackson and David found each other

David had learned Gaelic. Jackson had learned how to play the piano.

They had laughed and lived and loved and learned.

And they had survived – one day at a time. The London Boys.

they survived.

I know I'm always key smashing and screaming but these words, these lines, all these chapters mean so so much to me.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” David asked, hugging Jackson closely.

“No,” Jackson replied. “I will FaceTime you like a normal person, you weirdo!”

David laughed at that. “I prefer letters. They are more emotional.”

“I’ll text you,” Jackson countered. “With emojis.”

oh to have someone write me letters.

I love writing letters

once at the end of a school year, I wrote little letters to everyone in my class anonymously. even the people who had been mean to me. that was like 1-2 years after my transfer to that school and everyone practically hated me but I wanted to do something nice because who knows what someone is going through. I ended up not putting them in people's desks...

I threw them all away :)

but writing letters is superior

I often write my feelings down and give the letter to someone rather than talk to someone

if you receive a letter from me or a custom-made gift...you have reached my ultimate friendship

oh my god. THIS IS HOW I SHOULD TALK TO ONE OF MY FRIENDS ABOUT MY FEELINGS

It's kind of been a mess between us and I want to talk to her but I didn't know how to.

this is why i shouldn't send asks-

JACKSON CATCHING UP ON MAX AND DAVID

“You know what it means,” Jackson grinned harder. “Also, if that wanker tries to break your heart, I will break his face.”

“You know he is the Consul’s son?” David giggled.

“I’ve done it once and I will do it again,” Jackson shrugged. “He better treat you right.”

"wanker"

I HAVE A BRITISH ONLINE FRIEND AND THEY CALLED OUR AMERICAN ONLINE FRIEND A WANKER

AND OUR OTHER BRITISH FRIEND JOINED IN

WHILE ALL THE NON-BRITISH PEOPLE WERE LIKE "huh"

Lexi had cut her hair even shorter. Her girlfriend apparently got something called an undercut.

“Just in case someone dared to assume we were straight,” she had winked at him.

how many years has this fake dating been going on...

CENTURION SELENA

fterA the twins went to bed, David stepped out of the institute and went looking for his heart.

"went looking for his heart"

OH FUCK I FORGOT TO JOIN MY CLASS

MAX STOP DEPLETING YOUR SELF GODDAMN

And then somewhere along the way, Max’s heartbeat had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.

Max, with all his chaos and drama and danger, had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.

oh my god that's a parallel from canon

“Tell me why.”

“Ain't nothing but a heart break!!"

Max-

Max could make fireballs that killed demons on the spot. He could summon things from anywhere. He could heal people with his eyes closed. He was one of the youngest warlocks allowed to visit the spiral labyrinth.

Max was a warlock in every sense. A good one. A great one even.

he is so talented...

Only idiots would underestimate Magnus Bane’s power.

EXACTLY

He is probably going to be Consul like next week.”

David chuckled. “Next week?”

next week????

“Yeah, his smoking habits,” Max rolled his eyes.

Rafael wasn’t the smoker in the family. He knew who it was, but David would never open his mouth. It wasn’t his secret to tell.

this keeps on getting better

“It’s my hair!” David laughed.

“And you’re my David!” Max argued. “I say you are not allowed to grow your hair.”

MY DAVID

MY DAVID

MY DAVID

“I don’t want to downworld-splain it to you.”

Max blinked and then laughed. “You don’t want to what?”

“Downworld-splain,” David mumbled. “It’s when shadowhunters explain downworlders how to be downworlders.”

they were SO close to kissing

I'm gonna get in there and lock them in a closet together and tell them to FUCKING GET WITH IT

Remember who you are. Remember where you stand.

remember who you are. remember where you stand...

I know this is supposed to be about portals.

OH MY GOD THEY KISSED

THEY KISSED

IM SO CLOSE TO SCREAMING CLASS AND EVERYONE OUTSIDE THIS ROOM BE DAMNED

OH MY GOD DAVID FELL

reminds me of when alec fell down the stairs-

OH MY GOD I'M GONNA SCREAM

WE'RE GONNA GET MORE MAVID CONTENT SOON I'M SCREAMING INTERNALLY UYDRVFY7VSDU7UYVFSDUYGCADUYIGJCDSHJKGDVCSUGISDVHVF

ok, I have a computer assignment to get to and tests to study for. BUT I LOVED THIS CHAPTER SO SO MUCH!! THEY FINALLY KISSED I'M SO HAPPY!!!!!

Also I know I tend to go off track and you can totally ignore that. i just go crazy. BYEE

This live blog gives me so much life you don't even know. I am go glad you enjoyed the chapter. I love hearing you rant about it. It's refreshing lol.

And I looooooove the lil anecdotes you share in between. Also wtf is a programming class like nobody wants to learn programme what kind of hetero nonsense I-

FINISH YOUR ASSIGNMENTS AND STUDY FOR YOUR TESTS I'LL SEE YOU SOON :)

[dontcare77ghj]

Diamond

Stucky x reader

Y/N L/N had been a part of the Avengers since it's conception. With her skills, she had been a valuable asset to the team. Y/N had been born a mutant. 

Her powers had developed when she was very young. Originally it was believed that she only possessed the skills of telepathy until she reached her adolescent years. It was then Y/N found out she also she could transform herself into an organic diamond state.

Y/N had trained very hard to gain control over her abilities and it was because of how hard she'd worked, she'd been noticed by Nick Fury.

Nick had been keeping an eye on her at Charles Xavier's suggestion and in 2012 he'd asked her to join the Avengers initiative.

It was in 2012 Y/N met the team, but primarily, it was 2012 when she met Steve and Bucky. 

The super soldiers. Captain America and the White Wolf.

Men who'd fought in the second world war saved millions of people and had been frozen in time.

It was 2013, when the two had caught up with most of what they missed, did they ask you out.

The three of you had been together for two years now. And life had settled. Sure the world still needed saving, but at least you had your boys now. 

"Tony that's disgusting." Bucky sighed, leaning back into the couch.

"I'm just asking a question." He defended himself. "No need to scream at me."

"You're lucky Y/n doesn't throw you across the room." Natasha laughed.

"I'm tempted to, Stark. It's too early for these questions." You groaned, pouring yourself a large coffee.

"It's a simple question. Can you have sex in diamond form?" Tony asked again.

"Can I throw him against the wall? Just once?" You begged Steve. 

"Let her do it, Steve," Bucky said as you sat next to him. 

"I'm recording," Clint said, holding up his phone.

"As much as I'm for you using your powers, you can't throw Tony into a wall," Steve told you, causing you and Bucky to groan.

"Spoilsport." You said, leaning into Bucky's side.

"Mail call," Wanda announced, entering with a handful of letters and Vision carrying some boxes. "Here, Y/N," Wanda said, passing you a letter.

"Thanks, Wand." You smiled, placing your cup down to take the letter. Opening the letter you felt your blood turn to ice. 

"Something wrong, doll?" Steve asked, regarding you in concern. 

"It's from the Brotherhood." You said, reading the letter carefully. 

"What like traveling pants?" Tony asked, opening his package.

"No, the Brotherhood is a mutant terrorist group." You told him. "They want to kill all humans."

"Oh, well that's not good," Tony said before yelping as Natasha hit the back of his head.

"There's a war coming." You swallowed harshly. "They plan to eradicate humans as well as any mutant, not on their side. They want me to fight with them."

"Is there an address?" Bucky asked, taking the envelope.

"Of course not." You scoffed, throwing the letter on the table. "Gods it's too early for this shit." You sighed, chugging the rest of your coffee.

"What are you going to do?" Natasha asked you.

"I'm going to make a call. Warn Logan and the rest of the X-Men, and I'm going to stay out of this." You told her. "Most mutants already think I picked a side when I chose to join the Avengers. I'm not exactly welcomed by most mutants with open arms." 

An hour later you were back in the room you shared with Steve and Bucky, letter in one hand, phone in the other.

"Logan, please just be careful." You begged, running a hand through your hair. "These guys aren't playing around."

"I promise I will take this seriously," Logan assured you. "As long as you take care of yourself."

"I will. Let me know if you guys need help." You said before hanging up.

"Doll, are you okay?" Bucky asked, sitting behind you.

"You're worried about the letter aren't you?" Steve followed up.

"Not so much the letter." You said, moving into your boy's arms. "Just, worried about what the Brotherhood's going to start. Mutants are already hated. You remember how hard they tried to arrest me after New York and I helped save the city. It's taken years but we're finally, for the most part, somewhat accepted. If they start a war, we could all have to go back into hiding. I don't want to go back into hiding."

"Doll, we promise, if the Brotherhood starts anything we won't let anyone come after you. We won't let anyone take you and we won't let you go into hiding." Steve said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"And if worst-case scenario, you have to go into hiding we'll be right with you," Bucky promised, squeezing your hand.

"I can't ask you to do that." You shook your head.

"You're not asking. And we're not taking no for an answer." Steve said.

"We're in this until the end of the line," Bucky told you, pressing a kiss to your neck.

"Until the end of the line." You repeated with a smile.

It had been three weeks since the first letter. In that period you had received twelve more letters, each increasing in threat. The first few were offers for you to join and as you continued to ignore them they were no longer offers.

They were threats. Threats to your friends, your family, your boys, and to yourself.

There was no way to track where these letters were coming from, and there was no way to find them.

"I'll be fine you two. And I won't be alone, Kitty's coming with me." You said to Steve and Bucky as you pulled on your heels.

"And we trust Kitty, we like Kitty, but are you both sure going out is a good idea?" Steve asked.

"It is the middle of the day, we're going to a restaurant and we're both powerful mutants. Nothing's going to happen." You assured him.

"We could trail you if you want. Keep our distance, keep you safe." Bucky offered.

"A thoughtful gesture, but it's a no from me." You said, kissing his cheek. "I've been cooped up in this tower for weeks, and I've had enough. I won't even be two blocks away." You laughed, sitting on the brunette's lap.

"Okay doll. We know we're being a little overbearing. We just worry." Steve said, putting his hand on your knee and squeezing it.

"You shouldn't worry so much, you're going to get wrinkles." You teased him, poking your index finger between his eyes.

"Yeah, you old man. You're going to start looking like a prune." Bucky teased the blonde.

"You're older than me." Steve pointed out.

"Well, I think you both look great." You said, kissing Bucky and then leaning over to kiss Steve.

"Are you sure you have to go out?" Bucky asked once you and Steve pulled apart.

"Yep." You said, jumping off his lap. "In fact, Kitty's on her way up now." You added, grabbing your bag.

Tease, Bucky thought.

"I heard that, Buck." You smiled, walking back over to the two. 

"You were supposed to," Bucky said, standing to embrace you. "Just be careful, for us." He begged.

"Always." You promised as Steve pulled you into his arms.

"Y/N are you ready?" Kitty asked as the elevator doors dinged. "Don't make me come in there."

"Keep your pants on." You called back. "I'll be back soon. I love you." You told the two.

"Love you too, sweetheart." They responded in unison. 

"We should get dessert," Kitty said, skipping beside you. 

"And pump you full of sugar, no way. Logan will kill me if I send you back hyper." You laughed.

"Logan wouldn't kill you, you're like his kid." Kitty waved you off. "I know this fantastic ice cream place. It's right around the corner."

"Fine but if you piss off Logan, let it be known I was against this." You said, causing her to giggle.

Kitty took your hand and began to lead you down the street. The two of you were deep in conversation and you almost didn't notice as she led you down an alley.

"Kitty, what are you doing?" You asked the woman, yanking your hand out of hers. Focusing on Kitty's brain signals you reached into her head. It was strange, it was as if there was a low humming coming from her mind.

"Kitty's a bit checked out right now." A familiar voice said from behind you. Instantly you spun around and shifted into your diamond form.

"Jean, I see you've changed sides." You commented, narrowing your eyes at her figure. 

"I wouldn't exactly put it like that." She said, walking towards you.

"Do you prefer the term traitorous bitch then?" You asked her, eyes darting between her and Kitty.

"It doesn't have to be like this Y/N." Jean sighed. "We could do great things with you on our side."

"You want to kill half the world's population. You want to use me to do that and you've fucked with my friend's brain. Sorry Jean, but it's a no from me." You told her, discreetly reaching for your phone and pressing the button Tony had installed.

"It wasn't really a question, Y/N. It just would have been better if you said yes." She sighed. "Sabertooth." She called. Within seconds the alleyway darkened and Sabertooth stood before you.

The brooding hulk of a man launched forward with his hands outstretched. You dodged his grip and picked up a dumpster before hurling it at him.

You were putting up a decent fight until you felt a hand grip your shoulder and you sunk into the ground.

A startled gasp left your mouth as you were sucked halfway into the Earth. Looking up you noticed more people had joined the four of you in the alley.

"I take it you're Sebastian Shaw." You said, attempting to free yourself. 

"And you're Y/N L/N. I'm sorry it's taken us this long to meet, but we'll have plenty of time to be acquainted." He said as Kitty and Sabertooth freed you. "You can drop your diamond form any time you wish."

"And free me to have my head fucked with by that traitorous bitch? Fuck off." You rejected him.

"We'll see how long that lasts," Sebastian smirked.

Non-Reader POV

The tower had become quiet after Y/N left. The world didn't need saving and it seemed even petty villains were taking the day off. 

Everyone was lounging around the common floor and just enjoying their time off.

Until a loud, blaring, siren began to repeatedly ring.

"What is that Stark?" Clint yelled over the noise, turning down his hearing aids.

"That's what happens when you press the button on your phones," Tony yelled back. "J.A.R.V.I.S. who's distress signal is that?"

"The signal is coming from Miss L/N's phone," J.A.R.V.I.S. responded, turning off the alarm.

"What's happening to Y/N?" Bucky demanded.

"J.A.R.V.I.S locate Y/N's signal and hack into any security cameras in the area," Tony ordered. J.A.R.V.I.S. took a second before he brought up a grainy security feed on the T.V.

"Is this live?" Steve demanded, jumping to his feet.

"Yes, Captain Rogers," J.A.R.V.I.S. responded. 

"Send the location to my phone," Steve said as he and Bucky made to leave the room. 

"It's a bit late for that," Natasha said before they could leave the room. Steve and Bucky turned around in time to see a red man appear on the screen before disappearing. Along with everyone.

Along with Y/N.

"Fuck," Bucky growled, punching his metal hand through the wall. Before he could destroy any more property Steve took his hands in his.

"Tony, is there any way you can track them?" Steve asked without turning back to the billionaire. 

"I can't," Tony admitted, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"You can't, but I can," Natasha said, pulling out her phone. "Logan, this is Natasha Romanoff. We need your help."

"I'm trying! This isn't easy!" Rouge snapped at Tony who raised his hands and backed away.

"Alright everyone, let's just take a ten-minute break. Everyone is too stressed." Storm said. "Bobby please take our guests to the kitchen and Rouge breath."

It had been two weeks since Y/N and Kitty had been taken. There had been no contact from the brotherhood and no-one even knew if they were alive. 

The Avengers combined with the X-Men had been working as hard as they could to track down their missing friends but after two weeks of zero results, everyone was beginning to lose it.

"We're sorry about Tony," Steve said as he and Bucky walked with Storm.

"We know he can be a lot on a good day." Bucky apologized. 

"Trust me, I understand large egos. I live in a house of mutants who all believe their powers are superior to each other." Storm laughed. "At least we're making progress."

"If you count progress as not finding anyone but finding out where they're not, then yeah. I suppose we're making progress." Bucky said.

"Progress is progress." Storm shrugged.

"Storm," Logan said, rounding the corner. "Where'd Rouge go?"

"She mumbled something about needing a smoke." Storm told him. "A habit she picked up from you, I assume."

"As long as she leaves mine alone, I don't care what she does." Logan shrugged, moving past them to find the girl.

"I apologize for Logan. He's not taking Kitty or Y/N's kidnapping well." Storm said as they continued walking. "Or Jean's defection."

"I wouldn't think he'd take it any other way," Steve assured her. "From what we understand they were very close."

"Close is one way to describe them." Storm chuckled. "Logan might as well be her father. He's the one who found her after all."

"Y/N never mentioned that," Bucky said, furrowing his brow.

"That sounds like Y/N. She never did like talking about how she joined us."

"Could you tell us exactly how Y/N came here?" Steve asked the woman.

"I wasn't here when Logan brought Y/N back, but from my understanding, he found her in the forest. She was five and her parents had left her to die in that forest." Storm explained.

"If I ever find those fuckers, I'm going to stick my claws in their head," Logan said, appearing behind them. "Rouge wants everyone back." He added before walking off.

"He's very blunt." Storm laughed. "You're lucky he likes you two."

Reader POV

A week after being taken.

"You're killing yourself, Y/N." Jean sighed, entering your cell. 

"Like you fucking care, Jean." You scoffed, refusing to face the woman. "You're the reason I'm here."

"I don't have to be the reason you die." She said, stepping towards you. "Drop your diamond form Y/N. Your stubbornness is going to be the death of you."

"You and I both know, this isn't going to kill me. I don't have to eat, sleep, drink, or breathe in this form. I'm unbreakable and you can't read my mind." You said, finally turning to face the redhead.

"You're not unbreakable, no-one is." Jean rolled her eyes. 

"I am unbreakable." You insisted. "And there's nothing you or your little friends can do about that."

"We'll see about that," Jean said, spinning around and slamming the door behind her.

You waited a minute before you turned back to the barred window and resumed your attempts of freedom.

You'd get out of here. And you'd save all those Jean and the Brotherhood had trapped inside their heads.

Two weeks.

"Normally, I would like to say I am a rational man. A man who follows his beliefs to a T, but you are really testing my patience." Shaw said, pacing in front of your still diamond form.

You had been the Brotherhood's prisoner for two weeks. You had attempted escape three times, only to be thwarted at every turn. The Brotherhood may have thought breaking you would be easy, but you got your stubbornness from Logan Howlett.

It had been two weeks of you being trapped in your diamond form. You hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, hadn't done anything except attempt to escape and deny your kidnapper's requests.

You knew if you were to drop your diamond form at any point, Jean would play with your head as she had done Kitty's and so many others.

"I've been known to do so." You murmured, eyes closed as you attempted to meditate.

"This isn't funny anymore," Shaw growled, storming forward and grabbing you by the throat. He pulled you from the ground and held you off the floor. 

"It wasn't funny to begin with." You said not even struggling against his grip. "Face it, Shaw, you wanted power by using me but you underestimated how powerful I am." You mocked him.

"I will give you one last chance to join us on your own terms," Shaw said, looking you dead in the eyes.

"Are we done here? Because I'm done hearing that sentence every day." You rolled your eyes.

"After today you won't hear it again." He said, throwing your body across the room. "Sabertooth." He called. 

Within a second the large mutant filled the doorway and darkened the cell.

"It's time," Shaw said, stepping aside for Sabertooth to enter. Sabertooth lumbered towards you and raised you from the ground. 

You struggled fiercely against the hairy man's grasp but he merely tightened his hold as he followed Shaw down the hall.

"You see, Miss L/N, I am usually against harming one of our kind. But this is for the good of our kind, so I think my conscience will be fine." Shaw said, opening a series of doors.

"Oh good for you." You groaned, still struggling.

"I've been doing some research. Your diamond form is fascinating. Fourteen days without rest or nutrition? It's impressive." He commented. "You're nearly unbreakable."

"I am unbreakable, but it's sweet you find me so interesting." You rolled your eyes.

"Diamonds can be broken." Shaw continued as if uninterrupted. "It just takes a lot of pressure. For you, it takes a lot more pressure." He told you, opening a door to reveal what looked like an operating theater.

"Oh fuck." You whispered, struggling harder than before. If you been in your normal form, Sabertooth would have crushed your organs. "You fucking let me go you piece of mutated shit!" You yelled.

"I did a lot of research for this experiment, Y/N, I'd thank you to participate," Sebastian smirked.

Despite your struggles and attempts at escape, Sabertooth managed to strap you down to the medical bed.

"The straps are made from vibranium, even your boyfriends wouldn't be able to get out of it." He told you. "And this," He said, pressing a button causing a drill to lower above your prone body. "Is the strongest diamond drill known to man."

"It's not going to work, Shaw." You snapped at him. "You're going to lose."

"With you on my side, I think I'm going to win." He grinned, pressing another button causing the drill to turn on and continue to lower. 

Directly above your heart. 

"You have a choice here. Join us and I will turn the drill off, sparing either of us the knowledge as to whether it will work. Or, you can continue to fight and we'll see if you die or turn back. The choice is yours."

"Go fuck yourself." You growled, unable to move an inch of your body. You did not notice how quickly the drill had lowered until it was piercing your diamond form.

A shrill scream left your throat as the drill punctured your diamond form. You could feel and hear, the rest of your body beginning to crack as the drill continued to lower.

The sound of the door being thrown off its hinges attracted your attention but you couldn't see past the drill.

You could hear Shaw yelling in fear and pain, Sabertooth growling and your name being screamed.

The drill turned off as you felt your diamond form begin to falter. The pain began to set in and you began to dry sob as the drill was raised.

"I got you, doll." A voice near your ear said as your straps loosened. "I got you," Steve repeated as you looked up.

"Steve." You gasped as you tried to sit up. A yelp escaped you as you attempted to move.

"Lay down, doll," Steve pushed you back. "It's okay, I'm here. Buck's here, Logan's here. We're going to get you out."

"I can't move." You gasped. "I can't shift back, I can feel the damage." You winced.

"It's fine we're going to deal with this. Buck!" Steve called, cutting the rest of your straps. "She's breaking and can't shift back."

"My heart hurts." You whimpered, looking up at the brunette.

"That's okay, doll. We're going to get Banner to set up the medical on the jet. We're going to get you out." He promised you, pressing a kiss to your cold forehead. "Can you carry her and throw that thing?" He asked Steve.

"I'll carry her." Logan cut in, sheathing his claws. "Sorry, kid." He said, gently lifting you causing you to cry out. 

"Did you find Kitty?" You whispered to Logan as the four of you ran towards an exit.

"We got her kid. She's okay." Logan told you, causing you to sigh happily.

The four of you made it back to the jet with no incidents and you saw both your families waiting for you all.

Hank and Bruce had set up a medical area and were waiting for the four of you.

Logan gently laid you down on the table they set down and you winced as you heard your skin crack once more.

"Christ Y/N." Hank cursed, assessing the damage. "You need to shift back if you want to heal these cracks." He told you.

"I can't." You shook your head. "They had a diamond drill. Drilled into my heart. It went through." You gasped.

Bruce and Hank began to discuss ways they fix the damage without killing you.

“You need to stay in this form until we get back to the tower.” Bruce told you. “We’re going to have Cho set up the cradle and when we get back you have to drop your diamond form, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded. Bruce and Hank stepped aside and Steve and Bucky took their places, each taking one of your hands.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky smiled, pressing hips lips to yours.

“Hi, Buck.” You smiled weakly. “You look tired.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” He smiled at you gently. 

“You’re not wrong. I feel like absolute shit.” You groaned.

“That’s alright. We’ll take care of you when we get back. You’re not leaving the bed for a couple of weeks.” Steve smiled, kissing your hand.

“Sounds fun.” You smirked.

“That’s not going to happen for a while.” Steve shook his head as Bucky chuckled.

The jet landed back at the tower what felt like minutes later. Helen and her team pushed their way onto the jet and began to roll the table off the jet.

“Y/N we need you to drop this form.” Helen said as you were rushed to the infirmary. Weakly you gave the woman a nod and with more effort than normal you dropped your diamond form for the first time in two weeks.

A strangled gasp escaped your lips as the pain to your normal self set in. The last thing you remembered before you lost consciousness was the table moving faster and Helen began to bark orders.

“Hey kid.” Logan greeted, entering your room. 

“Hey Logan.” You smiled, sitting up in the bed, not disturbing a sleeping Steve next to you.

“Want me to come back later?” He asked, gesturing to Steve and Bucky who were curled around you.

“No you’re fine. These two sleep like the dead.” You told him as he sat in the chair next to the bed. “I missed you Logan.” You said, taking his hand.

“I missed you too, kid. I thought we lost you for a minute there.” He admitted.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m your kid.” You laughed.

“How’s the heart?” He asked, pointing a finger in your hearts area. “Gonna give you any grief?”

“No, cradle fixed most of it. Healing factor will do the rest.” You told him.

“You scared me kid.” Logan told you. “I thought you were going to die for a minute there. You’re like my kid, don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You won’t have to think about that for a while, Logan. I’m not going anywhere.” You smiled, squeezing his hand. “I’ll always be here.”

“I’m proud of you, Y/N. You’ve always made good choices. You’ve saved the world a couple times and you picked some good partners.” He chuckled, gesturing to the sleeping men. “You’ve grown so much since I found you in that forest.”

“You’ve changed too, Logan. You’ve done some good things too.” You told him.

“Best I ever did was raise you.” He said. “I love you kid.”

“I love you too, dad.” You told him, causing the man to smile wider than you’d ever seen.

Sitting in that hospital bed, you had never been happier. You had your boys with you, you had your father and you had your family in this tower. You were alive and that’s all that you needed.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh

Coming soon

Dean x reader x Cas

Bucky x reader x Natasha

Meg x reader x Cas

Wanda x reader x Vision

Steve x reader x Bucky x Peggy