#When my heart got broken at 16 I lasted all of ten minutes before carrying myself to my father's room

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I don't wanna be fuck buddies or friends with benefits or casual or open relationship or whatever the fuck else people come up with. My heart is not something you can weigh in one hand while weighing someone else's in the other. Either love me fully or don't touch me at all.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Out of Sight

Guys! Here it is is!! Dick and Damian week! I am obviously super excited. I’m loving all the content you all are posting, and I’m here to share a fic of my own.

Day 2: Dami’s First Birthday with Dick / Comfort / “He’s my son!”

Summary: 

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

Ao3 Link

~

“So there Bruce is, standing in front of the most gorgeous lady I’d ever seen laughing like she’s not just stunning and--”

There was a tug at his elbow. Dick ignored it and continued with his story.

“And I’m 16, slack jawed, and carrying a blue raspberry slurpee. So of course I’m going to trip over my own two feet.”

This time it was an elbow in his side. Dick shifted a bit. The two women he was talking to didn’t seem to notice.

“One foot catches another and down I go. I thought for sure I was going to faceplant, but someone caught me. When I looked up, I saw Bruce, absolutely coated in my drink! He was-- Damian please .”

His little brother had closed the distance between them and dug his heel into Dick’s foot. When Dick looked down at him, the boy was all innocence, foot already snapping into place beside the other. A trick he was regretting teaching Damian right now.

“I do not mean to interrupt, but our tickets to The Pirates of Penzance say we are to arrive ten minutes early and if we do not leave soon we will be late.”

Damian was laying on the innocent act really well. They had no plans to see the musical. In fact, Damian had vehemently rejected Dick when he’d asked him a few weeks ago if he’d wanted to attend. So this act, for that’s what it had to be, must have been a ploy to go home early. Most days, Dick wouldn’t mind the kid giving him an out from social affairs, but this wasn’t something he wanted to miss. Lucius had specifically asked him to come.

They were in the middle of a special party thrown for Wayne Enterprise’s new hires. Everyone, from full time staff to interns, who’d been added to the staff in the last six months had flooded into the building’s first floor ballroom, they’d brought family along with them and friends. Dick was pretty sure there were people here who had nothing to do with the staff, but had shown up for the open bar alone. Lucius had stressed how important it was for them to meet at least one of the Waynes, and of how inspiring it’d be for Dick to give a stirring speech.

Dick made a show of checking his watch and beamed down at his brother, “We’ve still got some time, I promise I won’t let us be late, alright?”

His brother puffed out his cheeks and pressed his lips together, obviously trying to decide if it was worth it to keep the eager child routine up. At last he nodded, a single sharp nod.

“Fine. Then I will amuse myself elsewhere.”

With that, the kid spun on his heel and stomped away.

Dick shot the ladies an apologetic smile, “One second, I want to make sure he’s not upset. Then I’ll be back to regale you with the story’s thrilling conclusion.”

“Of course.” one of the women smiled.

He darted after Damian, and ahead of the boy to walk backwards until Damian stopped with a huff. They were in a crowded room, but somehow Damian had already made his way to one of the few quiet bubbles.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Dick asked.

Damian crossed his arms, “I simply do not wish to waste any more time with these plebeians.”

“Aaand?” Dick pressed.

The boy glared at him, “And it should be obvious.”

Okay, he was not expecting that. Dick wracked his brain for what he could have missed. Any signs Damian was upset? Any people who’d bothered him? Had he forgotten an important date or something?

“Remember what we talked about with using our words. Misunderstandings are made and broken by stating clear intentions.” Dick said.

“Tt. If you cannot remember, then apparently I am the one who misunderstood.” Damian snapped, and pushed past him.

By the time Dick turned around, his brother had melted into the crowd of unfamiliar faces. He swore. He wished he could remember what it was that had Damian in such a grumpy mood.

He thought back on the immediate. On Damian’s mood and actions over the course of the day. The kid had been happy enough when Dick had suggested they go to the meet and greet together. He hadn’t wanted to go alone, and he figured after they could do something after like go to the arcade or-- Oh .

“Crap.” Dick muttered.

They really were supposed to see that musical tonight. Days after Damian had told Dick in no uncertain terms what he thought of people who watched musical’s he’d barged into the Penthouse with three tickets to a showing of it at Gotham’s Summer Musicals in the Park event.

“It is something you enjoy doing, correct?” Damian had asked, “You and Pennyworth used to go?”

How Damian had figured that out Dick would never know. He didn’t think Alfred would have told him, not outright. It had been their thing, and Dick was hoping to advance the tradition.

And, well, lately Dick wanted to share everything with Damian. The kid had wiggled his way into Dick’s heart in a way that made him feel warm to think about.

“Damian!” he called, not too loud as to make a scene, but loud enough he hoped his brother heard him.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Well, he could. He hadn’t known about this event until yesterday, and in the flurry of scheduling it and figuring out patrol in case it went really late all thoughts of fun had gone out of Dick’s head.

A short tuft of dark hair made for one of the hallways and Dick moved towards it. The next moment, someone was shouting.

“He’s got a gun!”

The words were followed seconds later by two unmistakable gunshots.

The crowd around him swarmed. Like a pack of terrified gazelle being chased by a lion, the room exploded into movement as the people all around him began running, pushing, and shoving in an attempt to get out of the building.

Dick was caught in the swell of people, his body being pushed towards the door before he could stop and find his brother.

“Damian!” he yelled this time, “Dames!”

He stopped, doing his best to plant his feet as a stone against the tide. His gaze ripped across the flood of people. Dick only had a moment before someone shoved him from behind and he was moving again, stumbling along with the crowd, jostled from position to position until he burst through the doors and the remaining rays of sunlight hit his face.

Dick tumbled out of the crowd as soon as he could, and went back to his search. He moved along the edges, knowing Damian would do the same. They’d drilled this time and again. Damian knew the rules, if they got separated in a crowd, get out and find the other along the edge.

His heart was racing. He could hear sirens coming closer. The police detail for the party must have already called for backup. Dick could hear them now too, corralling the crowd, moving everyone to a designated safe zone, but doing their best not to let them disperse.

Dick was still moving, prowling in his search for his little brother.

He took a few seconds to pause and shoot off a quick text to Damian, asking where he was, and telling him to follow procedure, and that he was looking for him.

“Damian!” he called again, hoping his voice could be heard above the din.

Where was he? They should have met up by now. Dick should be dragging his kid into his side and holding him close, apologizing for forgetting, and the fact that they were sure to miss the play. His heart should be slowing down.

But he couldn’t find Damian. What if? What if he was still inside?

Dick rushed back towards the door only to be stopped by one of the officers moving to stand in front of him.

“Sir, please, I need you to move over there.”

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

“There’s still some people inside, but--” the officer trailed off.

“Tell me.” Dick did growl now.

The officer straightened against Dick’s anger, but his face was pitying, “The gunman’s locked himself up in the ballroom with hostages. We don’t have much information right now, but when we do we will let you know.”

The phone in Dick’s palm buzzed two short quick bursts that were Damian’s signature. He checked it, and saw one word: inside.

Dick’s head flooded with white static. His thumb hovered above the phone, wanting to send a message, to beg for more information. He couldn’t, couldn’t risk alerting anyone to Damian’s presence or the presence of a phone. If Damian was safe enough to text, Dick wasn’t going to put him in danger by messaging again.

The officer turned his head and seemed to catch someone else’s attention, waving them over while Dick stood frozen, “Jerry! This guy’s kid is inside, talk to him for me?”

Dick didn’t bother correcting the man, his mouth had gone dry. His heart once racing, now felt like it had all but disappeared.

Jerry, took Dick by the shoulders and moved him away from the other officer. They didn’t head towards the main crowd, but to the police cars that had rolled up to the scene. Vaguely Dick noted that police tape had been drawn up, pulled across barriers, and officers were working to soothe worried nerves.

As they moved to a group of officers, a familiar tan coat stood out from the crowd. Salt and pepper hair that was more salt than pepper at this point shifted around uniformed officers until Jim Gordon stepped towards Dick, his face a look of relief.

“Dick, I heard you were inside, thank goodness you’re alright.” he said, before glancing at Jerry, “I’ve got him.”

The officer nodded, and moved away, the absence of his hand leaving Dick’s shoulder cold.

“Dick?” the Commissioner asked.

“Damian’s inside.” Dick said, still not quite believing it.

Jim swore.

“I brought him with me because I thought it’d be a nice night. He always wants to see more of his dad’s company.” Dick rambled, head still lost.

Lost. He’d lost his kid. He’d let Damian slip away and now he was stuck inside with someone who’d brought a gun to a party. With a kidnapper . All of a sudden the shock that had been freezing him cracked, and he came back to himself. He was Batman, he could deal with this. He had to, for Damian.

“What do we know?” he asked, “How can I help?”

Jim looked him over for a moment, as if considering the possible consequences to telling Dick to let them handle things. Dick squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

“He’s got them in the ballroom. From our officer inside it’s just the one guy, but he’s claimed to have planted a bomb inside. We have no real way of knowing if that’s true or not, so we’re treating the whole thing as if he’s telling the truth.”

Dick nodded, it was a safe play to make, “Any demands?”

“Money.” Jim crossed his arms, eyeing Dick, “I get the feeling he came in looking to grab one person, not a whole room full.”

Dick swallowed. Lucius had said he’d sent out an email letting everyone know Dick would be there and be giving a speech, as a way to get them excited and convince more people to come. The lure of snatching a Wayne at a busy party was obvious.

“I’ll pay. How much does he want?” Dick said It was the safest way to get Damian out of there.

Jim shook his head, “I can’t let you do that. We’ll find a way to neutralize him.”

Heat flared up in Dick’s head, his hands tightened to fists at his side, “This is the best way to get him to let everyone go.” he argued, “And if need be, you can lure him out so you guys can grab him.”

“You know Wayne Enterprises doesn’t give into ransom demands.” Jim countered, “They won’t authorize the payout.”

“Then I’ll pay.” Dick said, “Tell me how much, I promise I can get it.”

He was frantic now. His earlier worry doubled into panic and fueled by frustration. If only he wasn’t outside. If only he weren’t in this crowd. He could take care of things in the building as Dick Grayson, or even as Batman. But no. He was stuck arguing with the one man who should understand his predicament.

“Dick--”

“He’s got Damian,” Dick snapped, “He’s my son! I won’t let him die because you won’t let me pave the way to get this guy!”

Jim’s eyes widened, then his face softened, “Alright. We’ll try it. It’s going to take some time though. He wants cash, not a wire transfer.”

“I can do that.” Dick nodded.

Moving released some of the tension built up within Dick. Not all of it. His chest felt tight, like a vice had been wrapped around it and was squeezing. He knew it wouldn’t let go until Damian was in his arms again.

He checked his phone frequently for texts. Hoping that Damian would update him, and praying he didn’t risk it.

At some point Alfred arrived to help. Together they put in phone calls to banks, tallied up how much cash was hanging around the manor for just such an occasion --Bruce really had been prepared for everything-- and worked to collect the rest of the cash as quickly as possible.

Dick kept one eye on the building, and the police. Hours passed as they waited on money to transfer and banks to make this one time exception. Pizza was sent into the building, the scent making Dick’s stomach twist. The sight, like something out of a tv show.

His only comfort was that the kidnapper was keeping in contact with the police and promised no one had been hurt yet. He seemed mollified that his requests was being taken seriously.

At least, he had been at first.

In order to collect everything, Dick had needed to leave the scene and get the final part of the cash from a bank personally. When he returned from his last stop it was to a Jim Gordon wearing a very concerned face.

“What happened?” Dick asked, the vice across his chest tightening further.

Jim shook his head, “He’s afraid it’s all a trap. Thinks we won’t let him leave. He stopped responding right after you left.”

He wasn’t wrong. The last thing the police really wanted to do was let the kidnapper walk free. But they shouldn’t have let onto that. Dick didn’t think they would have.

“Good thing I’ve got the money together then.” Dick said, hefting the briefcase, “Let’s see if he answers to that.”

Dick insisted on being there for the call, and was rejected.

“I can’t let you do that. It’d be a new voice when we’ve established communication already.” Jim told him, “Besides, Dick, you’re too invested. You yell at him like you yelled at me and things get a whole lot more complicated.”

He didn’t have a good argument against that. So, Dick moved back, not into the crowd still piled up at police barriers, but to stand along with some other officers. They were watching him closely, probably warned by Jim already to keep him from doing anything stupid. For all the perks of personally knowing the police commissioner, this was not one of them.

Tension shifted in the group as Dick watched Jim on the phone. The call went on too long. Dick knew these kinds of calls, it should have been faster. And the way the Commissioner's jaw tensed wasn’t a good sign.

He wanted to push out of the crowd and snatch the phone. Demand Damian be given back to him.

All Dick could do was worry. Worry and wonder how his brother was doing. Worry that he was safe. He’d been drilled in this too. They’d spent hours going over the procedure for what to do if one of them was ever stuck in a multiple hostage situation. It was, unfortunately, a common enough occurrence in Gotham and Dick had wanted Damian prepared for anything.

He hated that it was coming in handy.

If only he’d just kept Damian close. If he’d remembered their plans, then his brother wouldn’t have felt rejected and walked away from him.

Jim was moving. Handing Dick’s briefcase over to a plainclothes officer they’d picked just for this. Just in case the guy demanded a civilian do the hand off. How Dick wished he could be that guy.

He shifted so he could keep an eye on the front doors of the building. The men and women around him shifted to match his stance. Dick didn’t care, his eyes were locked onto the scene in front of him.

It took forever, but at last the doors creaked open and out came two figures. A man in a long trench coat with dark messy hair and a wild look on his face Dick could read from back where he was. And Damian.

Dick was afraid his chest might crack open.

His brother was pressed close to the man’s chest, the barrel of the gun flush against his skull. Before Dick could get a good look at his expression or see if he was hurt at all, people closed in around him. Towards the front, the officers beside him, everywhere police were preparing for the worst.

When Dick went to step forward a hand shot out. He looked over and found Jerry. The man shook his head. He knew it was better if he stayed still and let things play out, but all Dick wanted to do was shove through the crowd and slam his fist into the kidnapper’s face.

All he could do now was listen.

There was a low murmuring across the crowd. Then the kidnapper’s voice, high and panicked.

“Slide the briefcase over!”

A quieter response Dick couldn’t make out.

“I said do it! Want me to blow the kid’s brains out?!”

Dick stepped forward, heart in his throat. He was stopped by Jerry, his hand now holding him by the arm.

A beat of silence. Another. Dick felt like a speedster, ready to vibrate out of Jerry’s grip he was so tense.

“I told you to stand back! I’m warning you! I--”

Two shots rang out.

Dick bolted. Ripping free from Jerry’s hand he shoved his way through the crowd. They were buzzing with activity, but not the absolute flood he’d fought earlier. Dick cut through them like a warm knife in butter.

He burst forward to see three of the bomb squad officers swarming to the front doors. They were already entering moving in to start clearing the place. But that’s not what had Dick’s attention. No, his eyes were glued on the prone forms a few feet in front of the doors.

A pool of blood was already spreading on the ground, stark and red against the grey concrete. There was an officer hunched over them. Dick couldn’t even see Damian, just the kidnapper and that trenchcoat, flared out as he’d fallen.

“Damian!” Dick yelled, sprinting now that no one was in his way.

He slid to a stop, dropping to his knees so fast and hard they cracked against the ground painfully. He ignored it, and the admonition from the officer beside him, as he shoved the other man up, and off his brother, ignoring the man’s grunt as he did so. Nothing but Damian mattered.

Curled tightly on the ground lay Damian. Blood soaked a shoulder and some of his hair, but even in his frenzied state, Dick could see it wasn’t Damian’s.

“Dames.” Dick breathed, and reached out for his brother.

Slowly he put a hand on Damian’s shoulder, away from the blood, and squeezed, “Hey there, Kiddo, it’s me, it’s Dick.”

It took a moment, but Damian uncoiled, head lifting from where he’d buried it in his arms, body ever so gradually loosening from how he’d wrapped in on himself as they’d fallen.

“Richard?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m here. You’re safe.”

At those words Damian launched himself, up from the ground and into Dick’s arms. Heedless of the people around them or the buzz of the crowd. Dick wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, breathing freely at last as he felt Damian’s warmth in his arms, weight against his chest, breath on his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Damian murmured.

“Me too.” Dick said, pressing a kiss against the crown of Damian’s head, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He wanted to apologize for forgetting. For letting Damian out of his sight. For not being there every moment his kid was in danger. But there would be time for that. For now, he relished in the fact that Damian was back, he was here. He was clutching Dick like a lifeline and hadn't let go yet.

Beside them, someone else had moved forward. Jerry knelt down and looked them over, a small smile slipping across his face.

“I’m glad you found your son.” he said.

Damian made to wiggle out of Dick’s arms, but Dick just tugged him a bit closer, “Me too.” he said, “Me too.”

[jbbarnesnnoble]

JBBarnesNNoble's 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Challenge 2021

Hello lovely people! And welcome to the 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge. The aim of this challenge is to shine a light on mental health, medical conditions, and the things that can have impacts on us. This started out initially being a PCOS Awareness challenge last year but through conversations with other writers over Discord, it evolved into a Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge last year. I’m reusing some of the unused prompts from last year’s challenge and adding in some new ones!

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. The goal of this challenge is to lift each other up, and show that it’s okay not to be okay. Spread some love and light during a challenging time in the world to those who struggle with chronic illness, depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, grief, PCOS, acceptance from their families and communities for being LGBT+, and anyone struggling with insecurity.

This challenge will run through July 31st, 2021. It will run through Mental Health Awareness Month, Pride Month, and the month of July to give people time to write. You can submit it at any time. I probably have too many prompts, but I wanted to ensure that there was a wide array to choose from. Please don’t hesitate to message me if I haven’t interacted with your fic after a few days! Sometimes the tag system doesn’t work and I miss things!

The Rules:

1. Utilize resources available online if you’re dealing with subject matter you’re not that familiar with. I’m not going to go all “cite sources” on y’all, but please do make sure to do your research. Writing about some of these issues can be hard if you don’t have first hand knowledge of how it can affect you. The goal of this challenge is to write about topics that we tend to shy away from, that many of us struggle with, from mental health struggles to chronic illnesses to low-self esteem. A gentle reminder that if you think writing about a subject will be triggering for you, please look after yourself first.

2. Use #JBBNNMHAM21 to tag your fic

3. Dark!Fic- Due to the subject matter involved in this challenge, please don’t submit dark!fic. I enjoy dark fics, but this challenge isn’t the place for them.

4. Smut- Smut is welcome! Make sure you tag it appropriately.

5. No inc*st, dubcon/noncon, underage, etc

6. Ships- I prefer reader inserts, but show me what ya got.

7. NO JOHN WALKER FICS. Please. Please no. I beg of you.

8. Selecting Prompts: Just let me know which one you want to do! 2 people per prompt! The song prompts have a line from them under it. You DO NOT need to use the line in your submission! It’s mostly to help you decide if you’re interested in a song before you take a listen to it.

You also can alter the sentence and dialogue prompts as needed for grammar, be it altering the pronouns used or changing the pluralization of a word.

9. Trigger Warnings: Use warnings as needed. Fics dealing with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, or other mental health issues should be tagged appropriately to ensure that readers that may be triggered by the subject matter can avoid the fic. Trigger warnings are non-negotiable

The prompts are under the cut!

Prompts:

Dialogue Prompts:

“I feel like if I let go, if I move on, I’ll only be proving them right.”

“I don’t know. Am I? Because from where I’m standing it’s pretty damn clear that’s how you see me.”

“You don’t believe that do you? Tell me you don’t. Please.”

“It’d probably be easier if you left”

“Please leave me alone”

“Everyone’s got broken pieces. Some have more, some have less. It doesn’t make you less of a person to have those broken pieces.” @nekoannie-chan

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll take that shake now.”

“What’s the point if I’m going to end up breaking that promise too?”

“You sure about that, moonman?”

“It made you smile though. And that will always be a win in my book.”

“That’s not true. And I will tell you that every day of your life until you believe me.”

Sentence Prompts:

Feel free to adjust the pronouns as needed

It was a day. It was the only way it could be described.

Summer had a smell that reminded her of innocence and a time long since past.

In that moment, the world stopped spinning on its axis as it all shattered down around her.

Some things, there would never be a way to understand. @justrunamok

Like shattered glass, in that moment the illusion was broken.

Forever was a lie, just like everything else.

If you had another condescending doctor tell you your problem wasn’t a problem you were going to scream.

They’d say it was easy, like riding a bike. Except, you never learned how to ride a bike in the first place.

Today was going to be good. It had to be.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was going south.

AU and Trope Prompts:

Soulmate @samsgoddess

College

Childhood Friends @tellmealovestory

Friends to Lovers

Enemies to Lovers

Musicians

Writer

Professional Athlete

Teacher

Coffee Shop

Fake Dating

Accidental Marriage

Royal

Librarian

Doctor

Song Prompts:

1. Nobody Ever Told You - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “Wish you could see yourself the way I do. Nobody ever told you, nobody ever told you. Shine like a diamond, glitter like gold, and you need to know what nobody ever told you”

2. Missing You - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “And if you need a friend, I’ll help you stitch up your wounds. I heard that you’ve been, having some trouble finding your place in the world. I know how much that hurts. But if you need a friend, then please just say the word.”

3. Barefoot and Bruised - Jamestown Story

Lyric Snippet: “Maybe when your sky comes crashing down, I can be your angel on the ground. If you get tired and can’t go on, I will carry you along, when the rocks below your feet wear out your shoes, when you’re barefoot and bruised”

4. Hold On Till May- Pierce the Veil

Lyric Snippet: “If were you, I’d put that away. See you’re just wasted and thinking about the past again. Darling, you’ll be okay.”

5. If I Surrender - Citizen Soldier

Lyric Snippet: “If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me, will it set me free?”

6. Home - Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors, Beba Rexha

Lyric Snippet: “All these miles, feet, inches, they can’t add up to the distance that I have been through just to get to a place where even if there’s no closure I’m still safe. I still ache from trying to keep pace. Somebody give me a sign, I’m starting to lose faith”

7. Broken Arrows - Daughtry

Lyric Snippet: “The best of intentions I lay at your feet. And I need you to see past the worst part of me.”

8. Used - Serious Matters

Lyric Snippet: “The wounds are gone and the pain still lingers. But this time I won’t stand by, I don’t need you in my life”

9. According to You - Orianthi

Lyric Snippet: “According to you, I’m stupid, I’m useless, I can’t do anything right”

10. Let It Land - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And everything we hate is something we just bought along the line”

11. Cold As You - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “You put up walls and paint them all a shade of grey. And I stood there loving you and wished them all away. And you come away with a great little story, of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you”

12. Tied Together with a Smile - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “Hold on, baby you’re losing it. The water’s high, you’re jumping into it, and letting go, and no one knows. That you cry but you don’t tell anyone that you might not be the golden one. And you’re tied together with a smile, but you’re coming undone.”

13. Human Interaction - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “I don’t know love. I don’t know hate. I am numb. Wish I could find the words to say. Asking please, as colors fade. I need to breathe. Before I turn the world to grey.”

14. Therapy - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “Give me therapy, I’m a walking travesty, but I’m smiling at everything. Therapy you were never a friend to me, and you can keep all your misery”

15. Scars - Alison Iraheta

Lyric Snippet: “Do you know how hard I’ve tried to become what you want me to be. Take me, this is all that I’ve got, this is all that I’m not, all that I’ll ever be. I got flaws, I got faults, keep searching for your perfect heart. It doesn’t matter who you are, we’ve all got our scars”

16. Hurts to Know - 1551

Lyric Snippet: “I can’t remember what I did to earn you by my side. I can’t surrender. I’ll fight as long as you’re in my life”

17. Spinning Bottles - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “He’s in a hotel room, with the tv on. Getting lost in the static with the curtains drawn, knowing this could be the time that gets her gone for good, he’d quit if he could. But one down, two down, three down, four, can’t even recognize the man in the mirror anymore”

18. Praying - Kesha

Lyric Snippet: “Well you were wrong and now the best is yet to come. ‘Cause I can make it on my own. And I don’t need you, I found a strength I’ve never known.”

19. Jersey On the Wall (I’m Just Asking) - Tenille Townes

Lyric Snippet: “If I ever get to heaven, you know I got a long list of questions. Like how do you make a snowflake, are you angry when the earth quakes? How does the sky change in a minutes, how do you keep this big rock spinning? Why can’t you stop a car from crashing? Forgive me, I’m just asking”

20. Five More Minutes - Scotty McCreery

Lyric Snippet: “Time rolls by, the clock don’t stop. I wish I had a few more drops of the good stuff, the good times. Oh, but they just keep on flying right on by like it ain’t nothing, wish I had me a, a pause button. Moments like those, Lord knows I’d hit it. Give myself five more minutes”

21. Dad’s Old Number - Cole Swindell

Lyric Snippet: “Sometimes I forget, these ten digits ain’t my lifeline anymore. Every now and then I dial them up when life gets tough or when the Braves score. Sorry about the one ring hang ups, early morning and late night wake ups. It was just me. In case you wondered, you’ve got dad’s old number.”

22. The Other Side - Lauren Alaina

Lyric Snippet: “There’s gonna be a lot of sadness on a lot of happy days, I’ll try to think of this moment, this place”

23. I Was Here - Beyonce

Lyric Snippet: “So they won’t forget I was here. I lived. I loved. I was here. I did, I’ve done, everything that I wanted and it was more than I thought it would be. I will leave my mark so everyone will know I was here.”

24. Gone Too Soon - Simple Plan

Lyric Snippet: “Like a shooting star, flying across the room. So fast, so far, you were gone too soon. You’re a part of me. And I’ll never be the same here without you. You were gone too soon.”

25. Amelia - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And you will always be perfect, you’ll always be beautiful, our hearts, will never forget you. You didn’t belong here, and it’s become so clear why heaven called your name.”

26. Heaven Right Now - Thomas Rhett

Lyric Snippet: “When the whole crew gets together, memory lane goes on forever. We twist a top and pour a little Jack D out.”

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch 21)

Chapter 21

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19, ch 20, ch 21

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 2,998

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​ @fallenstar-7​​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

TW: violence, gore, graphic descriptions of gore

(sorry for the wait, but it think it turned out pretty good, if i do say so myself. Also, i just don't know what to do for the pictures anymore lol.)

“Just so we’re clear, you’re probably not going to use this thing the day of,” said Jimmy K. “You two and Jin are gonna be evacuating the captives while the rest of us fight. All this training is just in case.”

               “I know,” said Jungkook. “I still want to learn how to use it.”

               The heavy double propane tanks were strapped to Jungkook’s back, the hose in hand.

               “It’s pretty easy,” said Jimmy K. “Just open the valve and pull the trigger.”

               Training with Jimmy K was fun but grueling. They had been doing target practice for hours, which was tedious. By the time evening hit, Catalina’s shoulder hurt and she just wanted to see her boyfriend use a flamethrower. She wasn’t disappointed. He was downright giddy as he twisted the valve open on the tank behind his head, then blasted the practice dummies. The dummies, along with all the arrows sticking out of them, burst into flames. Jungkook laughed gleefully, the light of the fire glinting in his eyes.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~

               She couldn’t move, and the metal against her neck was pressing harder. She wished she could reach out for Jimin’s hand beside her, but he couldn’t move either. She wished Jungkook wouldn’t look at her like that, with dread and desperation in his eyes. She wished he wouldn’t try so hard to get to her, she didn’t want him to die too. He needed to get out safely. She tried to open her mouth to tell him that, but then the hand holding the knife to her throat moved and the last thing she heard was a scream.

               “Cat! Wake up!”

               Catalina woke with a start, sweating, tears streaming down her face. She was in her room.

               “Cat?”

               She startled again, her heart still pounding before she saw Jungkook beside her. He was looking at her with concern, a hand reaching out to cup her face.

               “You were having a nightmare,” he said. Catalina sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his palm.

               “I don’t remember it,” she said. That was a lie. She did remember it, but she didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t know what all these dreams meant and she didn’t want to. She felt him pull her closer and wrap his arms around her.

               “Go back to sleep,” he said. “No more dreams tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

               The mansion was packed. Well, the foyer was packed. When Catalina and Jungkook arrived, they were surprised to see so many people, so many vampires, already there. The unfamiliar faces stared at them as they pushed through the crowd.

               They found Hoseok in the back of the lounge, playing on his phone on the couch.

               “This is a party in here,” said Catalina.

               “Yeah, Namjoon’s friends from up north got here yesterday,” said Hoseok. “Can you believe this is all one clan?”

               “Out there?” Jungkook asked. “That’s all one group? There’s like twenty of them out there!”

               “Is he expecting more?” asked Catalina.

               “I don’t think so,” said Hoseok. “Namjoon already went over the plan with them over night. Most of them don’t even care a whole lot about saving humans, they’re just in it for fun. I guess it’s okay, as long as the job gets done.”

               “True,” said Catalina. “We’ll need all the help we can get. So, we’re doing this thing tonight? Are you nervous?”

               Hoseok thought for a moment before turning to her and saying, “They ruined my life. I’m fine now that I have these guys, but I could have finished college and done something with myself. And they ruined that chance for me. So, I think I’m ready to end them.”

               The conviction in his eyes was almost startling to Catalina. She’s never seen him like this, but it made her happy. He was ready to take his life back.

               “Are you ready?” Jungkook asked Catalina, taking her hand.

               “I think so,” she said. “I want this to end.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

               They arrived at the same time as the police. Catalina waited outside the entrance for the signal. Emergency vehicles lined the perimeter, ambulances opening their doors and readying themselves for patients.

“How many do you think will be in there?” she asked Namjoon. He looked confidant ordering the vampires around, but he hesitated when he answered.

“There should be no more than thirty,” he said. He sounded sure of himself, but Catalina caught a flash of nervousness in his eyes. She looked over at her other friends. Yoongi was dressed in a tracksuit, an ornate sword on his hip. His grip was tight, knuckles white. Taehyung looked fierce and determined, but he was chewing on his lip and pacing. Hoseok looked the most nervous, picking at his already torn sleeves, eyeing the building with trepidation.

They called themselves immortal, but Catalina knew they weren’t. They were just as nervous as she was.

She watched Jimmy K lead the vampires into the building, one small group at a time. She watched Namjoon, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok go in. She waited three minutes, then went in herself. She knew Namjoon was going to try to find Makai and make a deal first. If that didn’t work, they would fight. Catalina hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but as she descended the stairs and entered the tunnel, she knew it wasn’t going well. Voices bounced off the cement walls, mixing with the clanging of her footsteps against the metal floor. As soon as she reached the end of the tunnel, one of Namjoon’s friends, Priya, Catalina remembered, met her there.

Priya supposedly had very good hypnotic abilities, even against other vampires, which was why Namjoon chose her as their cover. She would make sure Catalina, Jungkook, and Jin got in and out without being seen. Catalina never got the chance to witness those abilities, so she just had to trust Namjoon’s word for it.

The fight had broken out in the central part of the basement. She couldn’t see her friends, but she didn’t want to spend too much time searching for them in the chaos. She needed to focus on her task. Catalina made it to the first door. The metal lock mechanism was tight and she had to get Priya’s help opening it. Once it was opened, she rushed to the person inside. It was a pale woman, lips so blue and eyes so sunken, Catalina would have assumed her to be dead in she hadn’t cracked her eyes open.

After taking the needle out and checking for any other wounds, she asked, “Do you think you can walk?”

The woman just stared at her, so Catalina lifted the woman’s arm and draped it over her shoulders, helping the woman to her feet. She was almost dead weight at first, surprisingly light, but then she slowly started shuffling her feet, trying her best to stay upright. A loud boom shook the ground, making Catalina flinch.

As fast as they could, they made their way back to the tunnel. Catalina glanced into the crowd. Across the giant room, an entire wall was destroyed, dust still in the air. She still couldn’t see her friends.

Jungkook and Jin, along with two police officers met them at the bottom of the stairs. The officers took the woman from Catalina.

“It sounds bad,” said Jungkook, his eyes wide.

“I can’t really tell what’s happening,” said Catalina. “I didn’t see any of them.”

Jungkook squeezed her hand once before heading down the tunnel with Priya.

“I’ll be quick,” he said.

Catalina watched him go. The sounds of the battle seemed to get louder. A scream broke through the noise, but it didn’t sound like someone she knew. She hoped Jungkook was staying safe. Waiting for him to return was agony. She didn’t know what she would do if he got hurt. Her worry must have been showing through, because Jin put a hand on her shoulder.

Two more officers came downstairs and waited with them.

By the time ten minutes passed, Catalina was shaking. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the entrance of the tunnel.

Footsteps echoed against the metal floor and Catalina’s heart sped up. When she saw Jungkook round the corner, she felt the tension melt off of her. He was carrying a young man in his arms and the woman hobbling beside him was clutching his arm and leaning into him. He passed the young man off to the officers, one of them carrying the man, the other helping the woman up the stairs.

As soon as Jungkook’s arms were free, Catalina threw herself at him. Jin took off down the tunnel with Priya next.

She didn’t let go of Jungkook for several minutes.

“Did you see them?” she asked. He shook his head.

The two officers from before came down the stairs and about a minute later, Jin appeared, helping someone down the tunnel.

The three of them continued like this, eventually trying their best to pick up two or three people each time.

The battle seemed to be calming down, and the next time Catalina went in, she noticed that almost everyone was either subdued or standing around. Someone was talking at the other side of the crowd, but she couldn’t see who it was, she couldn’t tell by the voice either. She still couldn’t see her friends.

The hallway was almost all open doors and empty rooms now. There were only a few left at the end of the hall. If the people inside could walk, she would try to get all of them at once.

Before she could reach the end of the hallway, a woman stepped out from one of the rooms, blocking them from going any further. Catalina recognized her as the blonde woman, Amanda. She was just as glamorous as she remembered, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder, her red lips curled into a sinister smile.

Priya stepped in front of Catalina.

“Just go back to the others,” said Priya. “They must be looking for you.”

“I can smell her,” said Amanda. “You’re trying to hide her from me, but I know her scent. She’s right behind you, isn’t she?”

Priya didn’t say anything, she just clenched her fists at her sides.

“You don’t have to try anymore,” said Amanda. “I know her scent from the field. And when she visited us pretending to be Yoongi’s familiar.”

Catalina realized with a start that she never saw Amanda that day they bought Jimin. Which meant she was watching them the whole time, keeping herself unseen. Catalina felt a shiver run down her spine.

“We have your little friend,” said Amanda. “He’s our bargaining chip. Would you like to join him? It’ll pack a bigger punch if we have two of their pets instead of one.”

Priya growled and stepped forward. She didn’t get much of a chance to attack before Amanda lunged at her, faster than Catalina could even see. Amanda made quick work of Priya, wrestling her to the ground and snapping her neck so far around, her flesh was torn and her dead eyes stared at the ceiling as her chest hit the floor.

Catalina turned around and ran. She ran into an adjoining hallway, taking turns down tunnels she had no idea existed. She didn’t look back to see if Amanda was behind her. She ran until her lungs burned.

Where was she? She didn’t recognize this part of the facility. It looked like a service tunnel; cement walls were covered in pipes and access panels. The ground was metal grating, just like the entrance tunnel. Red, caged lights sparsely lined the bottom of the walls. The red light did nothing to calm her fear. Amanda wasn’t behind her. How? She was faster, Catalina shouldn’t stand a chance.

If I can get to Namjoon, or any of the others, they’ll protect me, she thought. But she didn’t know how to get back. She couldn’t stop moving though. The twists and turns were almost labyrinthine, taking her further and further away from her friends. Further away from her safety. That’s when another thought crossed her mind.

The longer she was gone, the more likely Jungkook was to go looking for her. And that was the last thing she wanted. They already had Jimin, or that’s what she thought anyway. She assumed that’s what Amanda was insinuating.

“Here, kitty kitty,” Amanda’s voice echoed throughout the tunnel. “If you keep running, you’ll run into some monsters down here. And pretty kitties like you will most certainly get eaten by the monsters.”

Catalina couldn’t see Amanda anywhere, but her voice sent a chill through her. Where has she heard those words before? Where has she seen this tunnel before? The familiar burn in her lungs forced her to stop and catch her breath.

Why did it feel like Catalina had already done all this?

A shadow dropped from the ceiling in front of her. Before she could scream, Amanda lunged at her and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Where’s your other human friends?” she asked. “Where’s the pretty one with the big eyes?”

The hand over her mouth didn’t let up, so Catalina couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. Amanda wasn’t waiting around for an answer though. Catalina’s arms were secured behind her back with ease and she was forced to walk. They somehow made it out of the winding tunnels and to Makai’s office unnoticed.

Laying on one of the couches was Jimin, bound and gagged. Catalina’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, I wondered why I recognized this guy when we first got him,” said Makai. He was sitting behind his desk, looking over at Jimin. “I thought maybe I had run into him somewhere in town, or maybe at my yoga lessons on Thursdays. But then Yoongi bought him, and I realized he was one of the humans at the baseball field that day. I can’t believe it took me so long to figure it out! Yoongi was a good actor that day, wasn’t he?”

Catalina didn’t answer.

“Yeah, you guys were good,” said Makai. “And at first, it was fine. He bought his friend back. No big deal. At the end of the day, I still got paid and could keep doing what I was doing. But then you all came in here and wrecked my stuff. It made me kind of sad. I really did like Yoongi. I thought he was cool. I thought his whole clan was cool! Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill them. At least I’ll try not to. I want to work a deal out with them, and that’s where you come in.”

“It’s just a harmless trade,” said Amanda.

“Right! It sounds like they’re talking out there right now, so let’s go out there and see if we can work something out,” said Makai. His smile then disappeared as he stood up from behind the desk. He pulled out two large pocket knives, opening one and handing the other to Amanda. If it’s a harmless trade, why do they have those?, Catalina thought. She didn’t want to die today. She didn’t want Jimin to die and she hoped to God Jungkook stuck to the plan because she didn’t want him to die either.

Makai hauled Jimin to his feet and pushed him out the door. Amanda shoved Catalina after them.

The battle was still halted. Namjoon was at the front of the crowd, speaking with a woman. Mohati. Catalina remembered her from the baseball field. Yoongi was beside him. Taehyung was there as well, a subdued vampire on the ground under his knee.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Makai bellowed. The crowd went silent and everyone’s attention was brought to the two vampires and their human captives. Catalina saw Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of them. She saw panic flash through Taehyung’s eyes. He almost stood up. She couldn’t see where Hoseok was. She hoped he was okay.

Makai began speaking, addressing mainly Namjoon. They argued, but Catalina couldn’t focus on the conversation over her own pounding heartbeat. Namjoon took a step forward and Amanda brought her knife to Catalina’s throat. Makai did the same with Jimin. His eyes were wide and terrified. He was staring at Taehyung, who matched his expression. Catalina squeezed her eyes closed. The metal dug into her neck. She swore it was breaking the skin. She could hear Jimin’s panicked breathing and she wanted to reach a hand out to him, but her arms were held in an iron grip. Another voice made her eyes fly open.

Jungkook had pushed through the crowd and Yoongi was now holding him back from approaching. Catalina met his eyes. She never wanted to see that kind of terror in his eyes. That pain. She never wanted to see him crying the way he was. Catalina felt tears well up in her own eyes at the sight.

“…you know we can’t let you do that,” Namjoon was saying. “There has to be something we can work out…”

Catalina assumed Makai wanted to bribe Namjoon into letting him continue his organization. She assumed Namjoon was trying to work out a way to not let that happen, but without casualties. Blood was rushing in her ears and the only thing she could focus on was Jungkook. She wanted to tell him not to do anything rash. He needed to stay alive. He needed to get out of this unharmed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement. A vampire she didn’t recognize tried to attack Makai. Namjoon yelled at him to stop, but it was too late. The vampire was tackled by Mohati and the last thing Catalina heard was Jungkook, screaming her name, before she felt the searing pain of the knife dragging across her throat.

Within seconds, her hearing went out, her vision went dark, and before her mind went blank, she prayed she was the only one dying today.

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Eight: The Goblet of Fire

A/N: This is the Eighth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2428

Warnings: slight mentions of blood, possible accidental self-harm trigger warning. 

Credits to Gif Creator

A small commotion from the Great Hall piqued Aria's interest, her curiosity getting the better of her. The room radiated an icy blue light emitting from the centre of the room which contained the infamous Goblet of Fire. A group of around 20 students or so surrounded the cup, all laughing and taunting the two boys who sat on the edge of the age circle that had been drawn by Albus Dumbledore, a bemused look stuck on their faces. Aria watched as their enchantment took its toll on the Weasley twins. They had been attempting to enter themselves into the Tri-Wizard tournament, but to no avail. Professor Dumbledore's spell was far too powerful for the likes of Fred and George Weasley.

Not even attempting to hold back her laughter, Aria approached the boys, helping them to their feet. Almost instantly they practically tackled the woman back down to the ground.

"I missed you boys." She grinned from ear to ear, regaining her balance, giving her skirt a thorough brush down.

Exchanging more than a few pleasantries the trio caught up with each other, before Aria remembered her position as Professor, that is. Giving the boys a light scolding for their stupidity, Aria opened her mouth to take away a number of Gryffindor's house points, however she was quickly interrupted by the hushed gasps of students and the scurrying of feet as they cleared the room, leaving only the twins, Aria Dumbledore and one Severus Snape.

The Potions Master cleared his throat catching the attention of the Students and their friend. Embarrassed she had been caught not properly carrying out her duties as Professor, Aria put some distance between herself and the Weasleys.

"Ten points from Gryffindor." Snape declared, glaring at his fellow professor more than the students. "For each of you." He finished, a rather satisfied grimace appearing on his face. The boys let out a long groan but kept their mouths shut, knowing better than to object.

"I was handling it." Aria objected, taking another step in the direction of the Potions Master.

"Clearly." He droned with a roll of his eyes. "It certainly looked like you were handling it when the three of you were carrying around on the floor, exchanging familiarity's, and hugging." His disdain for the act almost making the word almost unbearable to say.

Aria opened her mouth to explain herself but was once again interrupted by the presence of the Headmaster.

"Mr and Mr Weasley." Dumbledore announced. "I suggest the two of you make your way to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey will meet you there." The boys gave a thankful nod to the Headmaster before rushing from the room, eager to reverse their own enchantment.  "As for you, Miss Dumbledore, I advise you to keep outside relationships professional while here Hogwarts. I will not abide my Professors playing favourites among students for personal reasons, do you understand?"

"Of course, Headmaster." Aria whispered, taken aback by her grandfather's use of their shared last name.

Albus gave the pair of Professors a final sceptical look before leaving them alone. 

The young witch gave her mentor a look of disapproval, eyeing him up an down. It had been almost a month since their small heart to heart, if you could even call it that, and Severus had pulled himself together quite nicely. He had cut back on the binge drinking and was getting at least some amount of sleep, whereas before Aria wasn't sure if he had been getting any at all. Just as much as he had regained his physical appearance, he had almost completely reverted back to his arrogant self. Only this time he was not quite as vocal about his dislike for his apprentice.

Neither of them had attempted much of a conversation regarding anything other than work but they had gotten used to each other's company and often spent the evenings marking together comfortable silence, occasionally sharing the odd pot of coffee on those long nights when neither of them had the energy to stay awake.

The past few days however, saw Severus begin to pick up his bad habits once more. Not so much the drinking, but his insomnia and irritability, particularly towards Miss Dumbledore, had definitely made a comeback. Yet, she couldn't quite figure out what was making him act this way. The Professor had made it clear to her there was an another factor besides herself but she had not one clue what, or rather who, it might be.

Aria kept her distance from the man over the weekend following their last meeting, hoping not to aggravate him any more than necessary. Although one thing Aria did not have the ability to control was her curiosity. She could not help but be drawn to anything she deemed interesting. She had no self control and just always had to get herself involved, whether she was welcome or not.

An occasion where her inability to keep out of other people's business proved a nuisance occurred no longer than a few days later, following the Weasley twin incident.

Sat alone in her chambers, quietly reading to herself, Aria could not help but overhear the hushed argument occurring in the hall. She knew she shouldn't snoop; she told herself it would only end badly. But the whispers were practically calling to her as they made their way along the dungeon halls into her private quarters.

Although she could not make out the dialogue, she immediately recognised the voices; Severus Snape and Igor Karkaroff, Headmaster of Durmstrang. The unlikely pair only intrigued her more, but she fought the urge to intrude.

As quickly as they had begun the hushed tones of the men disappeared out of ear shot. The sound of Snape's office door slamming behind them. Content with not being able to hear the voices any longer, Aria was able to suppress her urge to interfere and get back to happily reading her book.

That is until the sound of shattering glass filled the halls followed by less hushed tones from the men. Igor was practically shouting at Severus meanwhile the Potions Master chose his words extremely carefully, never letting his voice raise above a certain volume. The voices continued to argue, Severus telling Igor over and over again to leave, but the man refused to listen. It was clear to Aria that Igor was testing Snape's patience and any minute now the man would snap, just as he had done with her many times before.

Another smashing sound came. Then a throaty cry from Severus. His tone a mix of anger, pain and impatience.

"Get out, now." The Potions Master finally said, his voice full of venom and dangerously low in volume. The only reason Aria heard any of this was that she was now almost fully out of her chambers and making her way down the dimly lit hall.

She passed a rather flustered looking Karkaroff on her way down to meet Severus. The Durmstrang headmaster locked his eyes onto her own, a look of danger swimming inside his mind. His gaze slowly lowered itself down the whole of her body, taking in every inch of the woman's physique. She couldn't help but notice the unnerving wink he gave her as she walked by.

Eager to get to her colleague and mentor, she uncomfortably shuffled past the man, rushing her way down the rest of the hallway. By the time she got there Severus Snape's door had once again been slammed shut.

Gingerly rapping her knuckles against the cold hard wood, Aria let herself into the room, making sure to close to door behind her once more.

"Severus." She whispered, making herself known to the man who's back was turned to her. "Are you okay? I heard glass smashing, did he break anything?" The professor asked, looking around the room to spot several piles of broken glass scattered across the floor, including one small clump on his desk. As she took a closer look she spotted small beads of blood clinging onto the tiny shards. Snape turned to face the woman, a contorted look of discomfort and anger evident on his features.

"Please leave me alone, Miss Dumbledore. I do not have the energy to deal with you today as well as Professor Karkaroff."

"You're hurt." Aria gasped, paying no attention to whatever the man had just said.

"I'm fine. Please, just go." He sighed, taking a seat behind his desk. Again, Aria paid no attention to the professor's wishes, instead she took the seat across from his, carefully disposing of the cluster of smashed glass.

"Let me see your hand."

"I said I'm fine." Severus grumbled once more.

"Give me your hand, Severus." Aria commanded, extending out her own for him to rest his on. A few moments and one skeptical glare later Severus gave in against his better judgment, presenting his bloody wound to the woman, with a roll of his eyes.

Another gasp escaped her lips as he rested his hand against her own, the deep gash more visible to her now than ever. Her delicate fingertips traced the skin of his palm, careful not to go too near to where his hand had been sliced open. Severus felt a serious of tingles dance up us spine while the women did this, the pace of his heart picking up slightly.

"How did this happen? Did Igor-?" She wondered letting her sentence trail away.

"No, not at all." Snape shook his head. "It was my own stupidity." He admitted. "I was taken away with my anger then I smashed a glass jar under my hand in a fit of rage. I hadn't quite thought of the consequences of my own strength.

"There's glass buried deep in there. We have to get it out." Aria gently lowered her mentors hand to the desk, jumping up from her seat and scurrying around the room, picking up countless jars of ingredients and vials containing potions. "Don't you have anything to clean the wound?" She questioned desperately, working herself up into a panic.

"Third shelf from the top, seventh bottle from the right. You'll find a vial of clear liquid." Severus couldn't help but let his eyes follow the witch as she followed his directions to the store cupboard. The way she panicked over a less than fatal wound was endearing to him. He knew although he had sliced through the skin, it was easily fixable and there was no need for the haste she had quickly adopted. Yet enjoyed the thought that she cared for his wellbeing.

"Got it." She announced, brandishing the bottle proudly. Rushing back to her seat, she pulled a cloth from an old set of drawers and dowsed the material in the liquid. "What even if this anyway? some anti-bleeding potion or something."

"Alcohol." He replied simply, a ghost of a smile threatening to appear on his face as he caught the reaction of his colleague.

Aria let out a burst of nervous laughter she couldn't hold back.

"Well then, I guess you better prepare yourself, because this shit is going to sting like a motherfucker." She warned, extracting the glass from the wound and pressing the damp cloth into the gushing gash. Severus winced in pain, but tried his hardest not to let it show.

"Hold it there for a minute or two then the wound should be thoroughly sanitised and will able to be bandaged up." Aria gave him a nod of understanding, her gentle hands clasping around his rough calloused one. The two shared a moment of intense eye contact, neither of them daring to speak a word.  When it became clear to the both of them that they could no longer keep it up Aria broke contact, reaching for the long roll of bandages, a small blush rising to her cheeks.

"What was he doing here?" Aria dared to enquire.

"That's none of your concern." Snape replied simply, his tone turning sour once again.

The room went silent for a minute or two before Snape chose to break the ice.

"Now that I have you here, care to explain your little display of affection with the Weasley twins the other day." Snape spoke, his gaze flickering between the woman's face and her delicate hands which wound the bandage carefully around his palm and wrist.

"Oh, I thought you knew!" Aria responded, caught off guard by his sudden interest. "Before I came to Hogwarts I lived with the Weasley's at the borrow for a good few months. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were friends with my mother, they really helped me settle in before coming here. The twins and I got to know each other quite well, we had become good friends over the summer."

"Mmmmm." Severus hummed. "I am quite sure I know why they wanted to get know you so well. Hormonal teenage boys can only have one motivation."

Aria scoffed shaking her head at what the man was insinuating.

"Oh come off it Severus, we were friends, nothing more. Besides, their my students now, I plan on keeping a profession relationship between us, just as my grandfather asked." She smiled, tying a small knot in Snape's bandage to finish the job.

"There good as new." She smirked, her thumb mindless stroking the skin of his wrist.

"Perfect." Snape retorted.

Both Aria and Severus stood to attention, almost simultaneously. The space between them slowly closing in on itself as they felt themselves being drawn towards each other. Deep and low breaths were the only sound filling the room as the two stood almost chest to chest, tension building between then by the second.

Shaking themselves back to reality, Aria took a few steps away from Severus and towards the door, feeling she had fulfilled her stay and did not want to risk overstaying her welcome.

"Surely there would have been an easier way to fix this? Don't you have a potion or something to heal it instantly." Aria wondered aloud, hand clasped tightly around the old iron door handle, only just now coming fully back to reality.

"I might do." He shrugged.

"The why did I waste both our times sitting here bandaging you up?" She cried, though she wasn't nearly as mad as she let on.

"You amused me with your panicked nature, I wanted to see how well you worked under pressure. None-the-less this would will heal just as well without the use of magic and I will be once again back to normal."

"God help us all." Aria laughed, pleased to see Severus had not taken her comment to heart. And with that she was gone.

Taglist:  @ayamenimthiriel @lizlil​

[reyesstrand]

16 & 82 please! With TK being the one to say them to Carlos? :)

apologies for how long this took!! thank you for your prompt! 

feel free to send me a number from this list if you’d like. also available on ao3! 

((possible tw: brief mentions of minor/background character death)) 

TK has come to accept that it’s impossible for him and Carlos to completely stay in touch during their shifts.

They get pulled away so quickly and without warning, their full attention needed for whatever task that’s been thrown their way, that going several hours without getting a response from his boyfriend has become the norm. But it doesn’t help the sense of dread that just seems to build in his stomach when he’s left with nothing to do but pace around the house, looking for something to do that’ll keep his mind off the possibilities. Especially today, when the lack of even one brief message the whole time Carlos is at work leaves TK feeling restless and like something’s wrong.

“You know, it’s my day to do dishes, son,” his dad says from behind him, after he’s spent the last ten minutes elbow-deep in suds.

TK glances over as his dad leans against the counter next to him, looking at him expectantly. “Oh, uh, it’s not a big deal. I was bored.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Owen teases, but when he catches the furrow between his son’s eyebrows and the way he’s not really looking at him, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Alright, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” TK lies, trying not to wrap his dad up in his shit — it’s the start of their forty-eight hours off, the last thing his dad needs while dealing with chemo and paperwork is his own misplaced worry. Besides, Carlos is supposed to be done his shift in an hour; he can dwell in his own anxiety for that long until he’s sure he’ll get a text telling him everything’s okay.

His dad’s like a hawk, though, and he pointedly reaches over to turn off the tap. “TK, talk to me.”

“It’s probably stupid,” TK mutters, finally stepping back from the sink and reaching for a dish towel to dry his hands with. Owen cocks a brow at him, and TK sighs. “I just haven’t heard from Carlos at all today. And it feels...wrong. Even though I’m sure they’re just having a busy day.”

“First, it’s not stupid,” Owen says, and TK barely holds back the urge to roll his eyes. “And second, isn’t it possible he just hasn’t had the chance to text you?”

“Yeah, it is,” TK insists, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I just can’t get over this feeling in my stomach that something happened.”

“If it feels wrong, then there’s a good chance you’re right, kid,” Owen shrugs, and TK heaves another sigh. “I can see if this shift’s captain has heard anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” TK quickly interjects, deciding on his plan as he goes. “He’s supposed to be home soon, I think I’m just going to head over there and wait for him.”

Owen nods, squeezing TK’s shoulder, careful of how hard his grip is — almost two months after bursting his stitches, and he still gets awful aches and twinges of pain that limits his movement. Then he moves over to grab a mug from the cupboard. “Send him my best.”

“I will,” TK says, unable to help the small smile he tries to keep to himself because just knowing his dad likes Carlos — not even just as his boyfriend, but as a person that he actively tries to hang out with, which fucks with his head enough — makes him so much more hopeful. There've been so many relationships of his that just don’t pan out, and his dad’s immediate perception of the guys he would date would often be enough of a tell for him to know things were probably not going to go great. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he grabs his phone from where it’s charging and after frowning down at the still notification-less screen, he pockets it and grabs his house keys, yelling a goodbye to his father as he heads out the door.

He only has to wait on the curb for a few minutes as he waits for his Uber; he could drive his dad’s car in theory, but he doesn’t like leaving him without a means of transportation should there be some sort of emergency. It’s a nice enough night, anyway, the warmth manageable and broken up by a pleasantly cool breeze. TK makes it over to Carlos’ place twenty minutes before his shift would be set to end, so he lets himself into the house with the key that’s stashed under the doormat, moving with ease around the living room as he tries to get comfortable. TK fiddles around with his phone, texting a little in the groupchat that Marjan forced them all into, mainly smirking down at Judd’s very direct, very matter-of-fact responses.

He hears the doorknob turning, and he’s on his feet in seconds. TK had thought he would’ve gotten a reply from Carlos when he’d texted his boyfriend that he was at his place, but there was still nothing. Carlos steps inside and TK opens his mouth to make some snarky comment about his phone being on the fritz when he notices the heaviness with which Carlos is carrying himself, and the hollowness in his face, and the pain in his eyes.

“Carlos?” TK quickly strides closer to his boyfriend, worry twisting like a knife in his gut. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Hey, TK,” Carlos says, and his voice is off. TK furrows his brows and moves aside when Carlos kind of shoulders past him, heading toward his bedroom. He has yet to really look at him, and TK starts pacing around the living room, until Carlos emerges from his room, changed out of his uniform. Carlos finally looks at him, from the other side of the room, and jerks his head toward his back porch.

He doesn’t say anything, and TK just follows him as he heads for the backyard. It had been so endearing when Carlos had first showed him this space, complete with outdoor seating and an actual porch swing. It’s where TK finds Carlos, sitting with his arms crossed over his chest and focusing his attention on the ground.

TK takes the leap of faith, and risks bugging him when he’s clearly in a less-than-pleasant mood, and sits down next to his boyfriend.

It’s so obvious that Carlos is trying to put on a brave face when he looks over at TK, and that he’s seeking out the comfort of his presence because TK presses himself to his boyfriend’s side and curls an arm around his shoulders.

“You can talk to me, sweetheart,” TK whispers. “If you want to.”

“We lost a kid today,” Carlos says, quickly, his voice sounding shattered. “Well, I lost a kid, I was the one that couldn’t get her to the paramedics in time.”

“I’m so sorry,” TK murmurs, pulling Carlos closer to him. He knows exactly how that feels, losing a child on a call; it sort of carves out a hole in your heart and sits there, a pressure you can’t lift, for days, sometimes weeks, after it happens. TK licks his lips as he quietly adds: “It’s not your fault.”

"It is, though,” Carlos replies, before the dam breaks and his eyes start shining with tears.

TK immediately pushes closer and curls his other arm around Carlos, feeling his face press against the crook of his neck. As the shaking starts, TK presses his lips to the top of his boyfriend’s head. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He feels tears against his skin, and TK tries to swallow down his own emotions welling up inside. He just clenches his jaw and secures his arms as tightly around Carlos as he can, making sure he can feel how much love he has for him, how he’ll never let him go.

“Just breathe, okay?” TK murmurs, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of his boyfriend’s neck, fingers scratching gently at his scalp. “I’ve got you, Carlos, I’m not going anywhere.”

After a few moments, he hears Carlos sniff and say, “sorry,” mostly into his skin.

TK shakes his head, and pulls his arms from around Carlos so he can frame his face in his hands again. “No, don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

He swipes his thumbs under Carlos’ eyes, and his boyfriend lets out a shaky breath.

“It’s just—I keep seeing it over and over in my head,” Carlos says, and TK nods, knowing all too well what that feels like. After another moment or two of silence, Carlos mutters: "Thank you, for..."

He doesn't finish, looking down at his hands, and TK just throws his arms around him in a proper hug.

"I'll always be here for you." TK whispers, as he feels Carlos' arms tighten around him. It feels like a bigger revelation, his heartbeat hammering away in his chest as he suddenly feels cracked open for Carlos to see. It's six words, but it feels like he's saying more than he should.

Carlos presses a kiss to his throat, before pulling back from the hug, hands still gripping at TK's shirt as some sort of anchor. He looks at him with fondness under the lingering pain, and TK swallows as he feels seen. Carlos doesn't comment on the words, or the levity behind them.

"Will you stay tonight?" is what he asks instead, voice quiet and, under the layers, hopeful. TK finds himself nodding before he's even done speaking.

"Of course," TK whispers, before they come together in another hug, both of them embraced by the comfort the other brings. "Always."

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

The Last of the Real Ones

Part of the Road Trip Shuffle

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Summary:

When a new super hero called Scoups starts appearing around the city, you aren’t really interested. Until you realize just how bad he is at keeping a secret identity (despite him thinking he was pretty sly).

-

“I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you But not as much as I do”

You realized that Choi Seungcheol was the superhero Scoups, when you first saw the guy in action. When Scoups first started to pop up in the news you didn’t really pay much attention to it. A masked vigilante stopping bank robberies and petty thievery just didn’t really pique your interest.

You were too busy after all, with pretty much everything else going on in your life to ponder the identity of a man that was probably just some self-centered idiot who wanted to play hero for a few days. You were sure that in no time the news of him would fade away and things would return to normal.

At least... That is what you thought until you were at a coffee shop on your way to work and you got grabbed and held at gun point.

There wasn’t really much going through your mind at that point, to your surprise.

You had always imagined that you would have a strew of thoughts going through your mind, that pure adrenaline would take over, and in an attempt to try and better the situation you would end up with a bullet in your head.

Instead, you felt your heart rate steady to something a bit more lax then it had actually been not long before. You thought of a few small things you regretted. Coworkers you wished that you had been brave enough to talk to more. People you had wished you had called before this had happened. Your crush, who you suddenly really wanted to be able to confess to despite all of your anxieties towards it before.

And lastly, how to get out of this situation without anyone getting hurt.

Your eyes had scanned the restaurant calmly- everyone was on the floor, and you could tell that none of them were going to be helping you. No, they were all too scared, some of them even trying to sneak their phones out- not to call 911 but to resume the phone calls they had been having before this whole inconvenient robbery.

You looked over at the cashier, a scared, shaken 16-year-old, who clearly hadn’t even played a violent video game a day in their life, much less been held at gun point. You felt bad for them. They were just trying to make minimum wage after all at a busy coffee shop with rude customers. The last thing that they needed in their lives was for someone to rob them.

You sighed, and cleared your throat, gaining the robbers attention. He tightened his grip on you, the cold metal of his gun digging into your temple.

“Is there something you would like to say princess?”

You rolled your eyes at the clear scare tactic. You presumed that normally such a thing would work on you. This man was huge. Easily twice your size. He could probably break you in half, with his pinky finger, and was surely leaving bruises from where he was holding you on your shoulders. And yet, even so you weren’t really frightened.

If you were going to die, you supposed that was okay- in that moment at least- because it just meant that everyone else here might live. And you desperately needed that to happen.

“Yeah, you’re not going to get anything out of the kid,” you stated, your voice sounding just as steady as you felt. You felt the robber shift his weight, turning his attention to the glass windows. You could hear sirens in the distance, and you wondered if that was what had suddenly gotten his attention.

The police would surely be here soon.

“What?” He mumbled.

“The kid is shaking, probably doesn’t even know the security code to the safe where they keep the money on a good day, much less when he is scared out of his mind,” you clarified. “Who you need, is the manager. Or someone who used to work here.”

The robber didn’t seem to understand what you were getting at, so you let out a loud sound of impatience.

“I used to work here,” you explained to him. “If you let me, I’ll open the safe for you.”

It honestly wasn’t a good move for you to make.

Lying to someone with a gun was never a good idea. Especially not when you weren’t sure if the gun was loaded or not. You made a mental note to yourself not to do something stupid like this again even as you were on your knees in front of the small metal safe that held the money.

All you had to do was come up with a four-digit number.

A four-digit number that you did not know but a four-digit number none the less and everything could go smoothly.

Luckily for you, before you found out what would happen if you didn’t figure out the four digit number, there was a loud shout, a mad scrambling of people across the coffee shop floor and a crash as someone fell through the large glass windows of the store.

You heard the robber shout a string of curses, but you didn’t even mind the way that the man pulled you closer as a blur of red and white tumbled over the broken glass, to a fetal position on the ground.

Your eyebrows strewn together tightly in confusion when the person let out a pained groan and then jumped to their feet, placing their hands on their hips as if they hadn’t been clearly hurt just a moment before.

“Scoups is here to save the day!” He announced loudly. His eyes scanned the building, and he pointed at the person who was holding you hostage in a way that you honestly didn’t see to be very threatening. “And if you don’t let go of-”

His eyes drifted over to you and he choked.

Yes he physically choked on air, completely lost his composure, cleared his throat and then spoke again, this time his voice notably an octave deeper: “This completely random lady who I do not know in the slightest. Then I will have to come over there and hurt you.”

You weren’t sure if it was the way he changed his voice, the fact that he clearly hadn’t quite mastered his costume- or really anything about his super hero persona yet, or if maybe it was the more then obvious indication that the guy knew you. No matter- in the end, the minute that you saw the man you knew that it was Seungcheol.

There was no way it wasn’t Seungcheol. You knew red and white were his favorite colors, and that he always had the best intentions but didn’t always think things through all the way. You knew what he looked like- flimsy cotton mask over his eyes be damned, and to top it off, he was the dumb guy in your office that you had a crush on.

If you hadn’t recognized Seungcheol standing ten feet away from you in a costume it would have been more surprising, than for you to not have recognized him.

But the thing was how did you even say something like that to someone?

Despite the rocky start to the whole rescue mission, Seungcheol managed to grab the criminal, and get the gun away from him with no trouble at all.

As it turned out, Seungcheol had superpowers. You weren’t sure what all of his superpowers were but it seemed to you that he had more than one, because the super speed that he displayed while saving your life surely wasn’t enough to have also wrenched the gun out of the man’s hands and get you away from him without getting shot.

“Wait.”

Seungcheol had been quick to tie up the man who not even a second before had you in his arms, honestly believing your life was moments away, and was about to- you thought maybe quite literally take off- when someone had called after the man.

It was a younger girl, staring up at Seungcheol in a way that you knew no one had looked at him before. To these people he really was a hero- which you supposed was fair. He had just saved all of your lives.

“Scoups, how can we ever thank you enough?”

The man let out a hearty laugh and reached forward, placing a hand on the girls' head. Her face turned the color of his cape at that, an action you wanted to make fun of but you had had similar reactions to him for less, so you supposed you would let it slide this time.

“You already did.”

And just like that Seungcheol was gone.

That day at the office, he didn’t seem any different than he had always been.

You tried to figure out if Seungcheol had been acting strangely recently but you couldn’t really place any certain day when the switch had happened, but your suspicions that he was in fact the masked man who had saved you that day were only confirmed by your work day at the office.

Not only could he not stop looking at you, a clear look of concern in his eyes, but he had spent the whole morning trying to get someone anyone to turn on the news (likely so that he could pretend to hear about the robbery and provoke you into saying something about it), and when he couldn’t get you to talk about it outright he had pretended to notice a bruise on your neck that you knew he couldn’t have possibly seen unless he was looking for it.

“Hey... Is that a bruise? Are you okay? Did something happen to you today? Because if something did you should tell everyone you know not keep it to yourself.”

You tried not to laugh at his obvious attempts, and instead shyly admitted that yes actually, something had happened to you. You told him about the man that had grabbed you, and that you had been scared.

“But then this masked man fell through the window and ended up saving the day.”

“Oh? Who? He sounds heroic!”

“Uh, I wouldn’t call him heroic necessarily, he seemed a bit unprepared and his name was a little weird... Scoups or something?”

“Oh! Scoups! That really strikes fear into my heart!”

“Ah, I don’t really think so, but agree to disagree right?”

You hadn’t really meant to start teasing him you meant to let it go on for a week maybe and then tell him that you knew his secret. After all, it was a big burden for Seungcheol to carry on his own. You knew that from every single comic book you read and superhero movie you had ever watched. But it was just so easy to tease him. Not to mention that your power of suggestion meant a lot changing in Scoups secret identity.

When you mentioned that you thought Scoups should focus less on catch phrases and more on saving people then his phrases became a lot more more natural and like himself. You also noticed that when you suggested that the hero focus more on strategy to minimize the harm that came to the people he was saving, he started being able to save a lot more people.

And besides, knowing Seungcheol’s secret made you a lot less nervous around him in the office. You weren’t freaked out when he walked past your cubicle and you didn’t shake if he tried to strike up a conversation with you during your breaks.

And during lunch periods he actually sought you ought to eat with you. Sure it was just so that he could talk to you about the most recent Scoups news, but it was attention none the less and you really enjoyed talking to him.

Not only that, but in no time Seungcheol started to approach you even when he was masked as the Scoups himself. Sure, it probably didn’t help that you ended up being in a numerous amount of locations tied to people he was fighting.

Over the next few months, you found yourself in so many robberies, and hostage situations that you were honestly starting to feel like the target. In each one, you found yourself doing the stupid sort of heroic thing you were chastising Scoups for, only without the superpowers on your end, to the point that Scoups approached you himself.

One night after work, you suddenly realized that you weren’t alone. You turned around, fingers clutching your phone hidden deep in your jacket pocket- only for you to relax when you saw who it was.

“Scoups,” you breathed, the name leaving your mouth along with a sigh of relief. “To what do I owe the honor?”

He had given you a completely unamused look back and pointed at your hand in your pocket.

“What were you going to do? Attack me?” He asked. You rolled your eyes and raised your phone out of your pocket.

“Us normal people tend to just call the police,” you replied pointedly. He made a face at that, for what reason you weren’t sure of at first.

“You should really be more careful. The amount at which I end up saving you- out of everybody else in this city-” He interrupted himself to click his tongue and shake his head. “And you’re always being held at gun point. What is that?”

You scoffed and put a hand on your hips.

“Are you blaming me, for always being used as a captive?” You asked him bluntly. He raised his eyes back to you and put his hands up in the air towards you.

“No, no, I’m just... I’m worried about you,” he mumbled. He was starting to grow closer to you. You weren’t opposed to the action. In fact, the closer he was to you the safer you truly felt. It was nice to have him there beside you.

“Just like you are worried about the whole city huh?” You questioned him softly. He stopped, his body mere centimeters from yours. He rose his hand up, clearly wanting to touch your cheek, but hesitated just before his fingers brushed your skin. You rolled your eyes at the tepidness and took his hand in yours, placing it against you before he could say anything in protest.

The action made him smile and sent a jolt down your spine.

You hadn’t realized how long it had been since anyone had touched you so intimately until he was touching you right there and then.

“I would let this whole city burn just to save your life,” Seungcheol whispered back.

When you had read the comic books, and stupid Mary Jane had kissed Spiderman, but also sort of liked Peter Parker and never made the connection between the two, you had always thought it was odd. Not odd in Mary Jane’s corner (although you thought she was a little dimwitted to not make the connection sooner. But odd in Peter Parker’s sense.

After all, what could possibly be going through his mind when he kissed Mary Jane with his mask on, thinking that she was the most important person in his life, but still knowing that she didn’t know the most important detail about him.

You of course, were no Mary Jane. You knew Seungcheol was Scoups. Hadn’t truly been fooled by his mask for a second (even though his costume had gotten immensely better). You had never thought that Seungcheol would kiss you. Not when he was in a mask, and not when he was just a coworker at your office.

So, when Seungcheol closed the space between the two of you, and his lips pressed against yours- you were so surprised you couldn’t protest against it. You couldn’t stop him and tell him that you knew, in fact you couldn’t even think.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his body, trying to feel his warmth spread throughout your whole body, and pressed yourself tighter against him. After all, you were in love with him. You had been for some time.

A kiss from him truly was a dream come true, and no sensical bone in your body could convince you that what you were doing needed to be stopped just so that you could rationalize that he had no reason to feel insecure about his secret identity or all the lies he thought he was so cleverly telling.

No instead you melted against him, just desperate to have him close to your body and to never let this moment slip away from you.

And yet, just like most things, the clock’s hand never stopped cruelly ticking away, and after what could only be described as too short of a time, you felt Seungcheol slipping away from you.

“You have no clue how long I have wanted to do that,” he whispered. “But I have to leave you now.”

You were dazed. Honestly feeling like you couldn’t really keep your bearings if you wanted to. You blindly reached towards Seungcheol as he pulled away.

“Wait, I-”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

And before you could tell Seungcheol that you knew who he was, Seungcheol disappeared into the night, and you were left alone.

After that moment, it was sort of hard to bring the topic up. Every time that Seungcheol was close to you, you couldn’t manage to tell him in words what you wanted to say. Whenever you could get it into a conversation someone always showed up to ruin your plans.

And whenever it was just you and Scoups... It was like he was the part of him that he was afraid to be at work. He was confident and concerned for you and would stand so close that you couldn’t think straight no matter how badly you wanted to.

One thing you never accounted for however was your growing close relationship with Scoups getting you into any danger. Sure, letting yourself get seen talking to Scoups one on one at multiple scenes of crime and even being caught in videos making quips with the hero like old friends should have made you a bit more careful but it just wasn’t something you had anticipated.

You had never imagined that you would end up kidnapped.

Sure, after all of the superhero storylines that you had read; you would think that you would have seen it coming. Whenever someone got close to the superhero of the story- whether they knew the superhero’s identity or not- they always ended up kidnapped.

It was a classic plot line, the one that always made the hero return to action even if they had been reluctant to do so before. You had never been the biggest fan of the plot line honestly. You found it to be a tad bit bland and drawn out- even when it was self-aware. But you supposed that you couldn’t really control being caught in such a plot line anyways.

You remembered a painful sting to the back of your head, darkness overcoming your vision and then waking up in a dark room.

You honestly hadn’t even realized that Scoups had a nemesis or even someone out to get him, but you really should have anticipated it coming. It was like Seungcheol kissing you had made you forget everything about any superhero tale that you had ever known.

Whenever a superhero showed up, a supervillain always followed. There were no exceptions to such a rule.

Your eyes narrowed at the man before you as you pulled at your wrists lightly. The ropes he had used to tie you were tight against you. You wouldn’t be able to ease yourself out of it easily, no matter how badly you wanted to.

So instead, you kept your attention on this supervillain, raising an eyebrow at him as he paced the abandoned room that you two were in.

“So...” You trailed off, and the man turned to you. He had dark eyes, and a particular way of looking at you that you just knew you had seen many times before. “Aren’t you going to tell me your backstory or whatever?”

The man looked at you, his glare only intensifying at your words.

“You think I would waste my backstory on you?” He asked you pointedly. Honestly the comment stung, but once again his words kept pulling at that little part in your brain that said that you knew him outside of this. You thought maybe if you kept him talking you would be able to pinpoint exactly where from.

“I mean who else are you going to tell?” You asked. You used your head to gesture to the empty room around you. The man rolled his eyes.

“Scoups will come,” he murmured back. “I’ll tell him when he arrives.”

You scoffed.

“Why would Scoups come? This is so obviously a trap- and would you even really kill me?”

“He’ll come, and if you keep talking then yes,” he snapped back roughly. “You’re the most precious person on the planet to Scoups, I know he will come.”

You thought that was a tiny bit of an exaggeration, but luckily his cocky attitude, finally slide something into place in your mind, and you realized with a start exactly where you knew he from.

“Oh my god, Juyan? From accounting?” You blurted out. Juyan, turned to you, his eyes growing wide in surprise.

“What- How did you-?”

“It is you!” You exclaimed. “What the hell Juyan, I thought you died in some freak accident?”

“I’m wearing a full-face mask!” Juyan protested instead of answering your question. You figured that was fair. After all it was no secret to anyone that Juyan had been missing for months. He had been chosen with a select few- Seungcheol actually. To participate in an experiment in a lab. The experiment had been pretty top secret, and something had gone wrong....

You wanted to hit yourself, realizing suddenly that you were the biggest idiot on the planet.

“Of course, the accident.”

Suddenly everything was clicking in your mind. The mod podge of every superhero story you had ever read all molding into one story that would make sense for your situation.

Juyan- after overcoming his initial shock only confirmed it a moment later.

When Juyan and Seugncheol were selected to do the experiment and the experiment went wrong they were both exposed to deadly radiations that should have killed them. It killed the others in the project, and also released a sudden mass of energy in the center of the room that started to suck up the people in the experiment. Juyan and Seungcheol agreed to work together to try to save the scientists and close the hole, being told that if they got a certain device into the mass, they would be able to prevent the end of the world.

A slip was all it took for Juyan to fall into the mass, leaving everyone to believe him dead.

“But I am alive,” Juyan snapped. “And the first thing I see upon returning is that Seungcheol is masquerading around like some sort of hero. After letting me die.”

He let out a laugh, that was a little psychotic- honestly not anything you wouldn’t expect from Juyan. He had always been one step away from the looney bin- but was still a little disturbing to hear even so.

Contrastingly, it was a little amusing the way that Juyan waited for Scoups to show. His growing impatience only building on the anger issues that he had been sent to Human Resources for many times before for.

You honestly hadn’t expected Scoups to come for quite some time but after only a few hours (your ropes still tight but getting much looser), suddenly the door came bursting in, and Seungcheol’s wide frantic eyes fell on you. He called out your name.

“Don’t worry! I’m here to save you.”

You practically yawned as he began towards you. It was like none of them had ever seen a superhero movie before in their lives.

“Don’t do it,” you murmured, your tone of voice flat. “It’s a trap.”

Just as you spoke, Juyan reappeared and a net dropped down from the ceiling over Seungcheol. He hissed as the net touched him, dropping to the ground in more pain then you had ever seen him in before.

“What-”

“That net is made out of Titanium Alloy,” Juyan said sinisterly. You could practically hear the smile on his lips. “Your one weakness Scoups.”

His voice echoed throughout the room, and it seemed to genuinely impress Seungcheol as he flipped over in the net to peer up at Juyan.

“Pledis,” he mumbled. “Where did you come from? What do you want to achieve?”

And luckily this was where you could help speed up things. Honestly when it got to this part of the plot, you tended to easily get bored while reading your graphic novels. While in some stories the realization of who the villain was had been crafted in detail and been a genuine surprise to you, like in Marvel’s Runaways- other stories just felt repetitive and obvious. You skimmed through those most of the time. And you were a bit glad you could press fast forward on this one, because this room was a bit cold and you didn’t have a jacket.

“It’s Juyan- from accounting.”

Juyan let out a frustrated groan at your comment, just as Seungcheol let out a dramatic gasp.

“Juyan.”

“It’s Pledis,” he snapped back. “Come on, I call you Scoups, so call me Pledis.”

“Juyan...” Seungcheol murmured, completely ignoring what Juyan had said just a moment ago “I... I thought you were dead.”

It was odd, to see Seungcheol growing so clearly haunted. When you had imagined what he had to hide you had thought it was simply a fear of people finding out who he was. You had been naïve to think that he was holding onto an even larger burden that you couldn’t even begin to fathom.

You could hardly even pay attention as Juyan and Seungcheol continued their discussion, going through the usual wave of conversation before it finally devolving into the fight that all three of you had known it would come down to.

You knew that Seungcheol didn’t want to hurt Juyan. And you knew that Juyan’s period of isolation was a large part of the reason he was currently being so resentful. But you also knew that even with a trained therapist in the room there would be no preventing this battle. And when Juyan went flying out the window, plummeting to what you could only imagine would be his death, you couldn’t say you were really surprised.

Just glad that you had managed to get yourself free of those ropes, and desperate to get to Seungcheol’s side.

“Are you okay?” You exclaimed climbing over the metal rail as you rushed over to Seungcheol. He froze at the statement, his whole body becoming tense at that. At first you were confused as to why, and then you realized that it was because he still didn’t realize that you knew his secret identity. You rolled your eyes.

“Seungcheol, I know it’s you.”

“Se-Seungcheol?” Seungcheol asked, his eyebrows raising. “Who is that?”

You sighed and wandered over to Seungcheol, lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. You peeked around his body and try to catch his gaze, but he just turned his head even further from you. You sighed.

“Come on, what are you doing? Don’t you know what part of the story we are at?” You asked him. That seemed to peek his attention a bit. He glanced at you, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly so that you could finally see his face.

He had bruises scattered across it, and a number of cuts on his cheeks that made your brows furrow in concern. You raised your hand gently to his cheek and he looked down so that he couldn’t see your expression as you did so.

“Part of the story...?” He questioned softly. You nodded and smiled.

“Well, it’s the part where the person who has been in love with the hero for so long finally gets to see his face. She’s of course worried. She knows that he is in pain but won’t say anything, but she doesn’t mind as long as she gets to see him.”

You sighed and lowered your hand back down to his shoulder, ducking your head so that you could catch his gaze. You gave him an easy smile.

“Then she tells the hero that she’s known all along who he was,” you continued. The statement made Seungcheol sigh softly, a pout crossing his lips.

“How long have you known?” He asked you his voice softer than you were used to it being when he was dressed like this.

“Since the coffee shop robbery,” you replied. Seungcheol’s mouth dropped open.

“How?” He blurted. You laughed.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out Cheol. We’ve worked together for over a year now, and you weren’t very secretive about the fact that you knew me that day.”

Seungcheol’s face turned a little disgruntled at that. That just made you laugh, your hand raising up to his cheek again.

“Don’t give me that look,” you mumbled affectionately. “If I hadn’t known I would sort of be a terrible friend.”

Seungcheol laughed, at that, but he still looked a little bothered. He cleared his throat and placed his hand on your wrist. He pulled your hand from his face and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Just friends huh?” He mumbled. You rolled your eyes at his sudden shy attitude and looked at your interlocked hands.

“Well, I guess it didn’t just have to do with us being friends,” you murmured back. “I wanted to tell you that I know sooner, but it was a little hard after you kissed me that first time. Sort of... Clouded my senses.”

Seungcheol chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It was kind of dumb of me to do that if I wanted to keep you safe... Wasn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward so that your nose was brushing against Seungcheol’s in what resembled a butterfly kiss. He didn’t seem to think that was enough however, as he leaned even closer and pressed his lips briefly to yours.

“You couldn’t keep me away if you tried,” you whispered back softly.

“There's been a million before me That ultra-kind of love You never walk away from You're just the last of the real ones”

Next Song: Red Like Roses Part I+II by Jeff Williams

[randomguywithwords]

As The Dust Settles: Chapter 17 (Dabi X fem!Geten Slowburn)

Chapter 17: A Frozen Heart

AO3 Link: Here

Previous Chapters: 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Long chapter ahead btw. 2.8k.

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For fifteen minutes, Dabi watched the broken, unconscious form of Geten breathe, every inhalation causing a shudder to ripple through her body. Every time she made a hacking cough, blood spurted from her mouth, making his fists clench tighter and his teeth grind against one another with building rage. Ten minutes in, he reduced Takame’s corpse to ashes to vent some feelings. 

That was all he could do. He couldn’t move her because of all the broken bones and fractures. The one thing he could was to shift her head an inch, to ensure she didn’t choke on her blood. 

All he could do was wait. The throbbing pain in his arms from blocking that hit was nothing compared to the pain in his chest at seeing her on the verge of death, enduring a merciless pummel that she didn’t deserve. 

He felt like every breath he took injected him with even more fury that he wanted to scream, to let the world know he wanted to burn it all. 

Stupid girl. Why can’t you see that you never belonged to the MLA? Why are you getting yourself killed for them? 

Geten shuddered as she coughed out more blood that stained the rusty containers’ surface. Dabi tore his eyes away. You could have stopped Takame before he went after her. You’re weak.

Wasn’t my fault I got sent on this damn assignment, he argued on instinct.

He paused, feeling his conviction disappear upon seeing Geten’s state. He ignited his arm, feeling the fiery torture wrack his already fractured limb. It didn’t expunge the guilt, but he liked to think that it could, somehow. 

Did Shigaraki know, sending two people whose quirks don’t work well against him? 

He was confronting Shigaraki when they got back, that was for sure. But for now, his attention was drawn to her. 

Is her breathing slowing? Shit. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling helpless, so utterly helpless. C’mon, girl, don’t die on me. Please. 

When he opened them, he saw two figures rushing towards them. He recognised one of them as the soldier who had welcomed them at the airport. 

“Help her first, I’m good.” He said as he extinguished his punishment. The two of them nodded. One of them stepped forward to lay a hand on Geten.

Dabi slapped it away with a glare. “Are you an idiot? She’s in no state to be carried.”

The soldier gave a patient smile. “I’m not moving her. My special ability can teleport people to a nearby location I’m familiar with by being in physical contact. We’re bringing the both of you back to the airport where Compress will take you back to Deika.” 

“Ah,” Dabi said, leaning back, “My bad.”

With one hand each, the soldier touched each of their shoulders, while the other companion laid a hand on him. The teleporter closed his eyes.

In the next few seconds, Dabi felt a light tugging sensation, definitely smoother than the gunky horridness that was the Doctor’s method. The next moment, he found himself back at the airport on solid ground. 

“Keep her spine in line,” Dabi ordered, and the two obeyed, gingerly holding Geten in place. “How long till Compress gets here?”

“ETA ten minutes,” The teleporter announced. Dabi swallowed – If he doesn’t get here on time...

The night was quiet and of a cool temperature, but Dabi was still sweating, and the serenity of this scene was destroyed by the haggard breaths Geten was drawing. He kept looking at the sky, trying to spot a black dot in the darkness. When a seeming eternity had passed feeling more anxious by the minute, he saw it, illuminated by red lights. 

He heard the whirring sounds of the chopper as it closed in and landed. Dabi spotted the familiar orange-brown coat and the black hat of Atsuhiro Sako, and a painful smile of relief tugged at his lip. 

One thing Dabi liked about Compress was that despite his showman persona, he didn’t mince words, or speak when there was no need to. Sako raced out of the aircraft, compressed Geten and pocketed her. 

“You need me to do you, too?” Sako asked him. 

Dabi shook his head. “Let’s go. Thanks, you two.” He acknowledged the soldiers, who bowed in return and left. The two Lieutenants climbed into the helicopter and the pilot lifted off. 

“No headsets? I’m not going deaf here,” Dabi shouted over the whirring. 

“Chill, the pilot has a noise-cancelling quirk. He’ll activate it soon.” As Compress said this, the ruckus disappeared, as if they were back on the jet. Another pang of hurt poked at Dabi, thinking about his nonchalance at the start of the mission.

“You look like hell.” Compress noted Dabi’s arms and the dust and grime on his coat. 

“Yeah. Assignment was harder than we thought.”

“I presumed much. Who was it?”

“One of the advisors in my regiment, and his daughter.”

Dabi heard the surprise in Sako’s tone. “Oh, Skeptic’s gonna go mental. Not that he already isn’t.”

That got a chuckle out of Dabi, but it died as he thought about the damage Takame had done. 

“But you guys finished the mission, right?” Compress asked. 

Looking out the window at the night sky, he muttered, “Yeah.”

“You didn’t throw her under the bus, did you?” 

Dabi’s head flicked back to face Compress. “What the hell, no! Why would I?”

The performer raised his arms to placate his anger. “Sorry, last time you talked about her, you were ready to kill her or whatever’s in your head. You mean to say that you guys are on good terms now?”

Dabi sighed. “I just don’t hate her. And I have no reason to let her die. Shigaraki wouldn’t be happy.” He added as an afterthought. 

He gave a tiny sigh. “Well, I’m sure you have a thrilling story of how you two managed to get to this state.” 

“We definitely do,” Dabi said dryly. 

“Tell us all about it tomorrow. Go get some sleep tonight. The doctor has a cell activation quirk, he’ll fix you up first, then her.” 

“No, get her first. I’ll wait.” 

“Fine,” Compress relented after seeing the adamant expression on Dabi’s face. “You’re really...concerned for her. It’s weird.” 

Dabi replied with a yawn.

––––––

The doctor flipped through his clipboard. “Multiple fractures on her arms, five broken ribs, dislocated jaw and she suffered a skull fracture.”

“But you fixed all of it...right?” There was an undertone of a “You better have.” that the doctor understood, given the reassuring smile he wore at Dabi’s question. He was getting sick of people trying to calm him down with smiles, like that would help.

“I used my ability as best as I could, and it fixed most of it, but I only sped up the recovery of the cell reparations. We’ll be providing iron and calcium supplements to help her along, but she’ll be bedridden for the next few days.” 

“Any permanent damage?” 

“As long as she gets enough rest and doesn’t exert herself, she’ll be fine and back to normal in a few weeks.”

Dabi exhaled. “Alright. Thanks doc.” 

Dr Shimano nodded and left the room. Dabi looked at Geten, whose chest rose and fell at a stable pace as she slept, no longer shaking, a significant improvement from just an hour ago. 

“Sorry Geten,” He said. “I fucked up.” 

As the words left his mouth, he took a second to realise what he had just said. He blinked. When did I start caring so much? 

The air-conditioned room and the leather chair he was seated on let the remaining surges of adrenaline fade out, to be replaced by an ice-cold fist of realisation – The events that had transpired in the last couple of hours punched him in the face. 

He had not left her side once the entire time. 

You’re really...concerned for her.

He got out of his seat, staggering upon registering Mr Compress’ words from earlier with clarity, similar to receiving a fiery touch on his skin. What the hell? 

He glanced back at Geten sleeping, then he left the room with extended paces. I should get back to my room. Yeah, that’s a good idea. He pushed all thoughts of the girl out of his mind, focusing on the inevitable debrief from him the next council meeting, since she couldn’t –

He swore under his breath. Stop thinking about her. These thoughts, feelings, whatever they were. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was unnatural. Foreign. Probably dangerous. 

––––––––

The next morning’s meeting convened, in the absence of Lieutenant Apocrypha, with Dabi’s debrief of the mission. 

“Alright, Dabi, care to explain what happened?” Shigaraki drummed his fingers on the table.

Dabi stood up, wearing his trademark lazy expression, though he was actually fatigued. “So our target turned out to be a Mihara Takame, daughter of Shingu Takame, who was an advisor to Violet Regiment.” 

He noted the widened eyes of the old MLA executives. Hanabata’s gaze flickered between the desk and him. And was that a bead of sweat rolling down Skeptic’s forehead? It might have been his imagination.

“What?” Re-destro gaped, then turned to Shigaraki. “Grand Commander, I apologise deeply for this treachery. I had no idea —“ 

Shigaraki waved his hand. “Never mind about that first. Continue.”

“We got into a fight, which turned out bad for Apocrypha, who took most of the damage, but I managed to finish the assignment.” 

“Yeah, that’s the part I wanna know.” Shigaraki leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Why did you guys end up taking the beating you did?” 

“Takame’s quirk was a shitty matchup against mine and hers. He just wouldn’t feel any pain. Impossible to incapacitate him.”

“And Apocrypha’s ice did nothing?” 

“No, it didn’t hinder him much.” 

“Then how did you kill both of them?” 

“I took out the woman first.” Dabi mimed twisting a neck. “For her old man, I concentrated my flames onto his head. Carbonized it. He probably died from brain failure or something.”

“Ah, copying Endeavour now, eh?” A small grin made Dabi bristle, though he concealed it. 

He shrugged. “What can I say? He’s got decent moves to copy, and I have the firepower to match his. Speaking of which, you might want to send a team to dispose of the body. I didn’t burn up the girl, only Takame.” 

Shigaraki frowned. “Why don’t you do it?” 

“Excuse me?” The coldness in the room spiked as the two stared at each other with venom. 

“I don’t know why you could cremate the larger-sized adult male but not the small girl. Go fix your mess.” 

“You’re really going to send me all the way back just to burn one more corpse?” 

“Yep.” Shigaraki’s eyes were still fixated on him, as though daring him to act out. What do you want? Something about the way his leader questioned him was off. Hell, he was never so interested in these small problems that cropped up. Dabi had talked to Twice before the meeting. According to him, a small riot broke out in the town centre over Shigaraki’s leadership, and the latter didn’t seem to care. 

Did you send the hit squad on us? Dabi’s eyes swept the room. Hanabata and Skeptic’s faces were whiter than normal, but that was because Takame was on their list that Apocrypha freaked out so much about, right? 

Dabi was about to argue further, but decided against it. He needed answers, and he doubted anyone in the room would offer anything worthwhile. Maybe going back would be helpful. 

He spun around and walked towards the door. “Fine. I’ll get to it now. Prep the jet, Skeptic.”

Without waiting for an answer, or for Shigaraki to stop him, he left the room, slamming the door behind him with a growl. He had to admit, though, that the solitude and this menial task given to him allowed him time to think about everything that had happened last night, and he kept coming back to the one name.

Mesa. 

That was all he got from the thug. A name that he couldn’t even be sure was real. Dabi was somewhat confident it was a legitimate answer: the thug was terrified of dying, especially after Dabi used his partner as a demonstration. 

When one was about to die, truths became more apparent. They stopped lying and told the truth, whether one was on their deathbed or backed up against an alley. 

Sensei had done the same thing. 

Dabi frowned, and quickened his pace. Which reminded him...that factory, it looks similar to the one that night. Guess I’ll look around there too. 

He emerged from the underground tunnel to the airport, a convenient distance from the mansion. And his face blanched. Why the fuck is she here? 

Geten was talking with the pilot, her posture bent, and Dabi didn’t need a doctor to tell him she was still injured. 

He marched up to her and waved off the pilot. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m going back.” She said, her face tight with pain. Or defiance. One worried him, the other annoyed. 

“No, you’re not. You’re still fucked up, you’re going back to the hospital.” He pointed away from the helicopter beside both of them, which reminded him of a parent sending a kid to their room. 

And just like the kid, she was acting like a brat. “I need to go back. Please. How did you even know I was here?” 

“I didn’t.”

“So you’re going back to Tokugawa?” 

Dabi bit back a retort. “No,” he tried. 

Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re going, I’m going.” 

Dabi envied Sako for the issues he could solve with his quirk with one tap. He stretched his sigh out. “Alright. Fine. One condition.” 

“What?” 

“Go take a shower and change out of this. You look and smell like shit.” 

Geten seemed to be in no mood to shoot a returning insult. She nodded. 

–––––––––

The two took a helicopter ride, which Dabi figured was Skeptic’s way of flipping him off — he was in the mood for another private jet ride, at least up till Geten showed up. 

Along the way, Dabi explained what had happened while she was unconscious or hospitalised. She nodded, rather numbly, to everything. He felt like pressing her on why wanted to come along, but she looked to be in such a somber mood Dabi kept quiet once he was done. 

“Thank you,” Geten said, which caught Dabi off-guard. 

He stared at her. “Huh?” 

But she lapsed back into silence. 

Takame’s words really affected her, huh? He got the gist of it: Takame was pissed off. Dabi was too focused on finishing the job, and the concussion dulled his senses, even as he crept up to the both of them. He didn’t hear everything Takame said, but enough of it. 

He still had no idea what she was doing here. Guess he would find out. 

They touched down a while later, took another motorbike ride, also in silence, to the factory. When they got off, there was a rush in her step, as though in anxiety, to reach the site of their Pyrrhic victory. Although, Dabi managed to keep pace with her. 

Mihara’s body was still there, and the imprint of Shingu was visible on the stone ground. Geten took out some ice from her pocket and used them to shut her wide eyes, then adjust her broken neck. She looked like she was sleeping. 

Next, she fashioned her ice into a platform which carried the young woman. Dabi quietly watched all this unfold, not wanting to interrupt whatever she was doing. 

Then Geten walked towards the nearby forest. Taking out more ice, she formed a wide, curved object, which she used to shovel dirt. 

Oh, so that’s what she’s doing. 

As if in a trance-like state, he picked up some sticks off the ground, lit the tip of them and passed three to Geten, who had laid Mihara’s body in the grave and filled it with dirt. 

She looked at the makeshift joss sticks, then at him, and gave a quivering smile. She knelt down to place them on top of the grave. 

As she tried to stand up, she stumbled a bit with a wince of pain. Dabi grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “Hey. Don’t stress yourself.” 

Her footing is off, he noted that, as well as her constant flinching. Her ribs were probably still hurting. 

He sighed and muttered, “You – You can lean on me. Just don’t tell anyone I said that.” 

“I’m fine,” She said with less believability than a hero’s promise. But she did, after a pause, rest her head on his shoulder, as the two stared at the blue flame that slowly died, its bright azure radiance leaving small spots in their eyes. 

“Why’s it seem like you trust me all of a sudden?” Dabi had to ask. 

After a moment of silence, Geten mumbled, “I think...I think I just do. You’re not the worst.” 

That’s a first. 

“So why’d you bury her?” 

“Because…” She looked at her hands. “They didn’t deserve it. It’s weird, isn’t it? I got beat up so much by them, but I’m still respecting her.”

“No, it’s not weird. It means…” Dabi considered his next few words. “It means your heart isn’t cold.” 

––––––––

Nice chapter to write, though very long. I realised I had a lot to say so this is sorta still part of this arc, but I’m starting to transition to the next. And now writing these two just became a lot harder, given the change in character. 

So if you guys have any feedback on whether I’m too OOC on them, given what’s happened to them, do let me know. I’d appreciate it. I’m especially worried about my portrayal of Dabi this chapter, whether he’s acting too nice (for his character) too abruptly. 

I’ll have to do a long re-read of the whole story after a while to reboot and see whether their character progression is plausible. 

Nevertheless I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. 

And also yeah we’re starting to get into some Dabiten stuff. Should be fun, and hard to write. 

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Appointments

Link to song: Appointments by Julien Baker

Synopsis: Feyre makes good on her promise to Rhys, and Rhys makes good on his promise to Feyre.

TW: Brief and non-graphic mention of self-harm, suicide and domestic abuse.

Ao3 link

Chapter 16: Appointments

“How are you feeling today, Feyre?”

How was I feeling? I didn’t know. My body felt like TV static with the volume on low. Crackling, bustling, full of nervous energy, but dim. Quiet. How was I supposed to explain that to him without sounding like a true basket case?

He sat in the chaise across from me. It was grey, muted, soft. Everything in his office was. There were great, wide panoramic windows, and outside rain pattered softly against the windows. Another week of rain in Prythian, as though it was just for me.

The couch beneath me was soft, comfortable. I sank into it when I’d sat down minutes ago and settled in after sitting in the waiting room. When I’d first walked into the clinic, there were others in the chairs. A older man, probably in his forties, was thumbing a magazine, but not looking at it. Just staring at the walls around him, flicking through the magazine, as though his fingers were soaking in the articles through his skin. A woman about my age listening to music on her phone, eyes closed, head leaned back on the wall. I’d only stared at my feet as the sound of the secretary typing away on her computer filled the empty space, paperwork clutched in my fingers. I’d filled them out on Saturday, and Rhys had them scanned and emailed that day, but they needed more paper copies handed from me in person.

“Miss Archeron?” The secretary had called out. I’d pushed up from my seat and shuffled over to the counter, presenting her with the five sheets I’d meticulously filled out. They were thorough, extremely thorough—so much so that when I’d filled them out at Rhys’s kitchen counter, I was clenching my teeth, ticking off the boxes that applied.

Suicidality:

Ideation: No-Active-Passive

Plan: No-Yes (describe): Jump

Attempts: No-Yes-More than one

Date of last attempt: March 27th

Lethality of attempt(s): Low-Moderate-High

Thankfully, Rhys had left me alone that night leaning over the kitchen island, pen tapping against the cold marble. Every question was like another stab in the gut.

Self-Harm Behaviour:

Current: No-Yes (describe): Cutting

Past: No-Yes (describe): Cutting, two years ago

When it got to family history and prior or current relationships, I nearly tore up the papers right then and there and walked out of the townhouse. Instead, I scribbled down my answers as concisely and quickly as possible to not feel the sting of the words.

In my hands, handing over the papers, it felt like I was yet again giving pieces of myself over, letting them cut open my brain and take a peak of the scrambled, decayed remains inside.

The secretary, a kind-smiled woman in her early thirties, pointed to a blue door where the gold plaque read Dr. Angèl Suriel, PhD. I’d knocked softly on the door, heard a muffled, “Come in!” From the other side. The first thing that hit me when I opened the door was the faint smell of fried chicken.

“Sorry,” he’d said, hunched over his desk further in the back of the room, next to the windows on the back wall. There’d been a rustling of a food takeout bag before he’d shoved the top drawer of his desk closed. “Just got some lunch quickly.”

He opened a window, and lit a candle on his desk next to his jar of identical pencils, then turned to face me. Angèl Suriel was an older man, tall and thin with darker skin. His accent was slightly lilted, definitely Spanish judging by his first name. He’d smiled warmly when he faced me and extended his hand, which he’d brushed on his tan trousers moments before.

“Angèl Suriel,” he'd presented himself, and I’d shaken his hand weakly. “But call me Suriel. No doctor formalities, please.” He’d smiled. “You must be Feyre.”

I nodded, eyes diverting from his. They were brilliant blue, so pale, contrasting against his tanner skin.

Staring at him now, sitting five feet across from me on his chaise with a file in his lap, I wondered how the hell Rhys had found this guy. Why he’d needed to find him, in the first place.

How was I feeling? How was I feeling?

My tongue felt swollen, limp and utterly useless in my mouth. I resorted to staring past him, over his shoulder, to the buildings in the background. They were like standing giants across the city, watching over, holding thousands of people with energy and moment and life, but so solemn and serious in appearance.

“Feyre?” He repeated.

I blinked. “How about you look in that file of yours and tell me how I’m feeling, Suriel.”

“Oh no, that’s not how this works,” he grinned. “It seems as though you’ve watched too much TV, miss Archeron. I’m not going to sit here and waste my time if you’re going to be resistant or unwilling to share. I’m only going to say this once, so listen to me.”

My heart pounded wildly in my chest as those crystal eyes met mine, and he leaned forward slightly in his seat.

“There are thousands of people in this city who suffer with the very same feelings and behaviours that you demonstrate. There are hundreds of people on my waiting list, right now, waiting for a call that they can finally see me and get the help they need. I work twelve hours a day seeing people, filling in charts, coordinating with hospitals and answering ER calls at three in the morning. I’m doing this as a favour for Rhys, and I’m doing this because I want to help you. It’s only going to work if you do your part as well. So if you’re here to waste my time, feel free to leave so I can get back to my fried chicken.”

I sat there shocked. My mouth was open in surprise, and all I could do was blurt, “I don’t know how I feel.”

Satisfied that I’d given him an answer, he resumed his position, one leg crossed across the other to balance the papers in his lap. “Okay,” he said, “how about we try this. On a scale of one to ten, one being your complete worst, and ten being your complete best, where do you think you fall?”

It took a few seconds to mull over before I murmured, “Three, I think.”

He nodded and wrote something done. “And Friday night? What number did you feel then?”

That one didn’t take as long. “Zero.”

“Zero,” he repeated. “You just broke my scale.”

Despite myself, I snorted.

“Tell me about what happened.”

Another question that settled within me like a stone sinking into water. I felt like I was holding it in the palm of my hands, turning it over slowly, examining its features, dips and curves, not knowing where to begin, or what to say.

“I don’t know what happened.” That was true. The details were so hazy. The timeline was broken in my head, only giving me fragments and pieces of those moments on the ledge.

In his lap, Suriel flipped over a paper and murmured, “It says here you were going to jump. Where were you?”

At the word jump, I flinched. Clutching my kneecaps, I blew out a shaky breath, still staring just past Suriel’s shoulder, never quite in his eyes. “At my friend Cassian’s apartment. Fifty storeys up.” I picked at the skin on my thumb, not knowing what to do with my hands.

“You went to a friend’s house? To carry out your plan?”

“I was staying at his place.”

“For how long?”

“I was there for about a week and a half.”

“Where did you live now?”

“With Rhys in his townhouse.”

“And before that?”

I wasn’t ready to go there yet. “My apartment.”

But Suriel watched me carefully, like he knew my answer was missing something.

I murmured, “With my ex-fiancee.”

His pen scribbled against the paper once more, and this time when he looked back up at me, he said, “You were at this friend’s apartment. Alone?”

I nodded. “He was still at work.”

“So,” he said, then paused for a bit, wondering how to phrase his next question, “do you remember the events, or maybe the emotions or thoughts that lead up to the execution of your plan?”

It was like I was back up on that building with Rhys’s voice echoing in my ears. I could practically feel the rain falling on my shoulders, my hair, my hands.

When Suriel pushed a Kleenex box on the small table between us, I realized it was because I was crying. The tear drops collected in my open palms like some sick offering to the gods of pain.

“Why am I doing this?” I whispered sinisterly, bitterness in my voice, my eyes as I narrowed them at Suriel, wanting to storm out of this fucking office and never look back. Rhys was wrong. He was a destructive, conniving asshole. “What the fuck is the point of this?

Suriel, not missing a beat, leaned forward as I did, and spoke in that low commanding voice of his he’d wielded only minutes ago. “The point of therapy, Feyre, is for you to get as close as possible to the ideal life you imagine and want for yourself. To solve the problems you face, to help hone your skills and speak your mind. Many of my clients walk into this office just like you, sometimes in worse shape, clinging to the notion that this is the enemy. That I am the enemy. But the only enemy right now in this room is you, you and your mind.”

I couldn’t stop myself from crying harder.

“I am not here to judge you. I am not here to pick apart your brains, but I need to know what the problem is, where to start, and where we can go from there. People walk into this office miserable and they leave with hope.”

Even the rain paused outside when I said, “I was kneeling in the entrance of the apartment. Crying.”

My mind went back to me curled into myself on the hardwood floor, when I’d shut out the world completely in my own little bubble of agony.

“I got up, ran to the bathroom, and tried to find pills, blades, anything, but the shelves were empty. Cassian must’ve been worried because he’d basically childproofed the entire damned place. But one thing he couldn’t take away from me was the fact he’d bought an apartment on the fiftieth floor.”

“And before that? Before you went out on the balcony? Why were you crying?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Words I hadn’t spoken to anyone, not a soul. Words I didn’t think I could even speak.

“Feyre, take a deep breath.”

I clenched my eyes closed, only able to see his twisted snarl of fury when his hands had closed around my throat. When my chest had slammed into his desk. When his fists slammed into my ribs.

“Feyre, take a deep breath.”

Slowly, trembling, I forced a breath into my lungs. I choked it out in a sob.

“Good. Another one.”

This time it came a little easier. On the exhale of my third breath, I said, “My ex-fiancee was there.”

“Did you speak to him?”

I shook my head. “I heard him through the door. He’d found me with a tracker on my phone.”

“Why aren’t you together anymore?”

I thought of the elevator, of me crawling on my hands and knees, nails cracking as I tried to resist him dragging me across the carpet of the executive floor.

“Because he locked me up,” I wheezed. “He wasn’t my partner. He was my captor.”

There was an eerie silence, only broken by the soft sounds of my quiet sobs. Suriel’s eyes found mine, and when I looked up to him, I said, “He was my fiancee. And I loved him. I love him.”

“But,” Suriel sighed, “he abused you.”

“No,” I contradicted weakly, “not necessarily.”

“Was he ever physically violent with you? Did he ever intentionally hurt you, has he ever tried to manipulate you or repress you?”

Silence. And Suriel had his answer. As I reached for a tissue, Suriel wrote some more notes in his papers. He looked over his shoulder to the city scape, then turned those eyes to mine and wondered, “Have you talked to your friends since everything happened?”

I shook my head. “Only Rhys. He may have said something to them, but I’m not sure.”

“Okay. It says here you don’t have a job right now. Are you looking?”

I shrugged with one shoulder. “A little. Rhys offered me something short-term.”

Suriel said, “That’s good. I want you working on something right now, Feyre. Even if it’s from home, if it’s a skill or a hobby or a job, you need something right now to keep you distracted. I don’t know enough about your situation right now to give you more specific goals or coping mechanisms, but I’ve found the best thing for clients in your position is just to keep their mind focused on something else. Being alone with only your thoughts when they’re so toxic can lead you down the wrong roads.”

I nodded, hands pursed in my lap.

“Try to see what Rhys can do with that job, try to talk with some friends. Something light. You don’t need to tell them about what you’re going through if you’re not comfortable because you don’t owe anyone an explanation. So you know your homework?”

“Get a job. Talk to friends.”

He snorted. “Distract yourself, Feyre. With good things. Light things. Even if it’s a movie with Rhys or cooking dinner. And try to stay away from alcohol and substances.”

“Distraction.” I repeated.

“Distraction.” He confirmed, a light grin on his face. “And I’m afraid that’s all the time we have.”

I wiped my nose once more than stood, tissue clenched in my fingers. “Same time next week?” I wondered, heading towards the door.

Suriel smiled then said, “Sounds good to me. Thank you very much for today, Feyre. You’re doing extremely well so far.”

“Well, hopefully therapy is the one thing I won’t fuck up.”

He smiled, more of a smug, cheeky smile. I opened the door and it closed softly behind me, but not before hearing his drawer being pulled open, and the sound of that takeout bag rustling around.

***

The car door shut beside me, and Rhys turned on the ignition.

“How was it?”

The streets passed by, full of people, full of energy. “Were you there in the parking lot the whole time?”

He shrugged as he made a left turn, going the opposite way of home. I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t you have better things to do? A company to manage?”

“My office is very flexible. Phone calls can be made from anywhere, including the comforts of my car.”

“You shouldn’t be sacrificing your work to take care of me.”

Rhys eyed me sideways. “Taking care of you is not a sacrifice. It’s as essential as any hour of tediousness in that stupid building.”

I sighed, my arms crossing across my chest. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere. How was the session? Do you like him? If not, we’ll find somebody else.”

The rain beat furiously against the windshield. Rhys increased the speed of his wipers. I said, “It was fine.”

“Fine.” It was more of an assertion than a question.

“He’s strange, but he’s good.” I glanced at him sidelong, and that calm concentration lining his features. “How did you find him?”

He shrugged. “Suriel was a very difficult man to track down. There’re many psychologists in Prythian, but not many that take on…these kinds of cases.”

“Which kinds?”

He looked at me then, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Suicidal ones.”

My next question was already on my lips, but a call came through, and Rhys touched the bluetooth piece in his left ear. “Yes Morrigan?”

I could hear her shrill voice distantly yelling at him to never call her that again. Rhys and her spoke of something for a few minutes, names and things I didn’t understand and didn’t care enough to try and decode. Finally, he said, “I’ll be there in a minute.” The call ended, and he pulled the piece out of his ear, discarding it in the cupholder. I looked out the window, curious as to where we were.

“Where are we going?”

Rhys said, “To the office. I have to pick up some things.”

My heart beat nervously. I knew that the circle would be in the office, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see them yet. But I remembered Suriel’s homework for me and sighed, knowing that it was best if I did have some sort of human contact. “Can I come?”

His smile was wicked and salacious. “But of course, darling. Let me take you into devil’s lair.”

***

Night Industries was nothing like Spring Corporations.

Everything, from the lobby to the reception to the workers was much more heavy duty. Sleek. Dripping with grace and elegance in a dark, ominous way. Black marble greeted us upon our entry where six security guards stood at their posts. Each nodded to Rhysand, who in turn greeted them all by name with a stern nod of his head. Rhys didn’t need to say anything as he marched past the reception desk towards the elevators. I went to reach for the button, but he shook his head.

“Executive floor is a little more protected than that.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“We do things a little different here than Spring.”

At that, he lead me down another corridor to the left and down to flights of stairs. I was about to ask where the hell he was taking me when we entered another lounge, with a different secretary, who instantly greeted us with a smile on her face. This place was darker, a dingy unsuspecting hallway that I wouldn’t have considered if ever I were to break in. I guess Rhys expected such a thing and acted accordingly.

“Good morning Nuala,” Rhys smiled as he laid his finger on the scanner presented to him by the dark haired woman. She didn’t say a word to him, only smiled at both of us as the tablet turned green and the door to what looked like a janitorial elevator opened. It reeked of metal and rust as we entered the wide space. On the interior, it was padded with black velvet and golden lining. Rhys pressed the button for the ninetieth floor, and we were going up.

“Your clients don’t find this a little sketchy when they visit?”

Rhys snorted. “My clients never cross the threshold of my real office.”

Another raise of my brows. He only said, “You can never be too careful, Feyre darling.”

We were silent the rest of the way up. Once the elevator doors opened once more, the space that greeted us was nothing like the beat-up receptionist’s office downstairs.

Everything was dark, but in a different way. Grey walls. Dark stained floors with a silver carpet leading down the main artery of the hallway. On each side were doors, definitely offices or file rooms hiding behind them. It was like an impenetrable fortress on all four sides. At the end of the corridor lay a set of black double doors with silver glinting handles. Lights shone at the bottom of each wall, lighting up the floors, leading your way to them. I only stood in shock at the stark differences between Spring and Night, the luxury and elegance that seemed oozing power and control here rather than tacky expensiveness in that ivory tower.

Before the doors, to the right hand side stood an empty office chair behind a black desk. An apple computer was there, unused, unoccupied, waiting for somebody to sit down.

“Who works there?”

“No one,” Rhys replied, as he laid his palm on his door handle. He waited a moment before a whir and a click sounded, then winked at me. “Only opens with my fingerprints on the door handle.”

How that worked, I had no clue. But once the doors opened, I swallowed hard at the scene that greeted me.

If… if his office was supposed to look grand, it was nothing compared to Rhys’s.

The walls were twenty feet high, and along the entire back wall stood windows reaching all the way from floor to ceiling. The light, despite the raining day, was bright and inviting, speckled with drops of precipitation outside. On the left side of the room lay an area for comfort, white leather couches and seats, enough for all the damn employees in this place to sit. A low grey marble table sat between the seats in the middle of the circle, currently obscured with documents and files piled up haphazardly. Stretched out across it though, was a map—a map of Prythian, marked up by different colour pens, from the Sidra to the major companies of Prythian and their headquarters. The colours made no distinct pattern I could decipher, but the entire thing seemed meticulously examined.

On the ceiling, light lined the space in strips, the source unseen beneath the black beams forming squares, each equally spaced apart. On the side wall were different alcoves, within one I could see acting as a coffee bar with a mini fridge beneath it. The others were wider, also lined with light—but barren.

“I’m waiting for the right art piece to put there.” He explained. “Nothing has quite tickled my fancy yet.”

I could paint for you, I thought, but then was disgusted by the notion of picking up a paint brush.

And to the left of the space was finally his desk. Nearly the length of the wall—the back of which was filled with books—and also dark to match his limited palette. Three screen monitors sat atop of it, and other files were strewn around, as though he’d left his office in a hurry. He strode over to it once he saw my shock had subsided it, and sat in his black leather chair with a sigh.

“Take a seat, Feyre. Won’t be too long.”

I sat in the grey leather chair across from him, still soaking in the room. It was gorgeous. Bigger than any apartment my sisters, father and I used to live in.

He fiddled around on his cellphone for a bit while I was still gazing across the city skyline, and minutes later came a knock at the door. Rhys checked the monitor, then pressed a button on his keyboard. The door opened, and in sauntered Mor.

“Seriously, I could’ve just emailed them to you. I don’t know why you’ve got to waste so much gas to drag your ass across the city for a stupid paper—” only she stopped when she saw me. Mor, beautiful as ever, wore a white pantsuit and her hair up in a high sleek ponytail to show off her gold hoop earrings. Her face broke into a smile, her red lipstick beaming, when she saw me.

“Feyre! He finally showed you around. What do you think? Don’t give him any credit for this place, I designed this thing from the ground up.”

“You’re a dirty liar, Morrigan. This place was built before you were born.”

“Don’t call me that again, Rhys, lest you want me to remove your favourite part. And you know full well that I was in charge of all the renovations, so look in the mirror next time you call someone a liar.”

Rhys rolled his eyes as Mor sauntered over and handed him the paper. His eyes scanned it for a few moments before they filled with dread. “Seriously?” He asked his cousin mournfully.

She only swallowed, eyes skirting over the words as well. “I’m sorry, Rhys.”

He sighed. “It’s fine. We’ll just add it to the rest of the chaos we have to deal with.”

As he opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a file, Mor came to sit beside me. Her hand found mine and gave it a squeeze, her brown eyes warm and bright. “You’re looking great, Feyre.”

I could tell by the kindness in her voice that she was being genuine, and not Ianthe’s sappy fake shrill that I was used to. “Thanks, Mor.” My voice was scratchy and low.

She turned her head to Rhys, who was collecting other papers from his desk to cram into the manila folder. “Have you talked to her about the position yet? It’d be nice to have someone new around the—”

One look from him and she stopped mid-conversation, then turned to me. “I picked up another set of clothes for you, by the way. After your comments from last time I went for more…comfort. Still very stylish, though, so not to worry.”

“Thanks. I didn’t really think the leather jacket look suited me.”

Mor laughed at my dryness, and Rhys only rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mor.” A clear dismissal, but I only thought of what Suriel had given me for homework as Mor lifted from her seat and made her way to the door.

“Wait,” I said, looking into Mor’s soft eyes, who were filled with hope and excitement just at the sound of my voice. My heart swelled with the non-verbal support she held for me. “Why don’t you all come over tonight? For dinner?”

“Feyre, darling, please, that’s just asking for it.”

“Wait, no! That’s perfect! I’ll make cookies, and we can bring popcorn and snacks and oh, oh!” Mor jumped up and down excitedly, looking to Rhys with her eyes full of hope. “We can have a game night!”

“Dear Gods, Mor,” Rhys folded his hand into a steeple and closed his eyes, his features lined with misery. “Are you trying to scare her away?”

“Oh, you’re just old and cranky. Make yourself another coffee, for fuck’s sake. Have a little fun, Rhys. We’ll be there at seven!”

The door closed, and I could only work on trying to bite back my smile as I turned to face Rhys.

“You seriously don’t know what you’ve started, Feyre.”

“I’m just doing what Suriel suggested, Rhys,” I said sweetly. “Social interaction is good for the disturbed mind.”

He only chuckled and shook his head, amused. Then he stood, hands in the dark trousers he’d donned today. No suit—he’d worked from home most of the morning before my appointment. The black long-sleeve sweater he wore stretched over his muscles that rippled beneath as he faced the skyline below us.

“I did come here for that paper, but I guess while I’m at it I should make good on my promise to you.”

Pushing up from my chair, I followed behind him quietly, arms crossed over my chest. “Promise?”

“Yes. I said I’d have a job for you. And I do.” He was quiet for a few moments, the stars in his eyes glowing as he gazed at the cars below. “I need all the people I can get right now.”

“Why?” I breathed. The response, whatever it was, made my heart beat furiously in my chest.

“Because war is coming, Feyre.”

[earnest-jumping]

For the asks— do all the even numbers!

107.58

That’s so long, fuck- ok here we go!

2. I am outgoing until I can’t mask anymore, or I have a sensory overload.

4 I like to think I am easy to get along with!

6 ,,,Attracted as in romantically? I have no idea. But in a platonic way, similar interests, concern for my wellbeing and happiness, understanding and knowing of my limits and able to compromise!

8 Real life, no one. But Drake Mallard lives rent free in my mind

10 My roommate! We are very similar in many ways and we have some similar backgrounds, so we talk often about them and everything going on right now as well.

12 current 5 favorite songs: Vices by Mothica, Garden Song by Phoebe Bridgers, A Letter To Time by Livingston, Peace by Taylor Swift, and Cherry Wine by Hozier!

14 I believe in miracles. This world is too random and spontaneous for things people deem miracles to not be, ya know? But I don’t believe in luck. Circumstance plays into it, as well as pure chance.

16 Oh, fuck no. I would not kiss them again

18 My guy I can’t even tell you what was really a crush and what was heteronormativity forced on me from grade school onward. So... no?

20 I live in a dorm and I fuckin love my neighbors rn. On one side they’re both enby like me, and on the other they’re super sweet and polite!

22 I really want to visit Europe. Classic american answer, yeah, but I love history and theirs is so much more interesting than ours

24 My favorote part of my daily routine (that is consistent, student teaching and classes are nuts) is spending time doing homework and hanging out with my roommate at the end of each day, before she goes in to work the night shift. It’s calm and gives us a chance to catch up!

26 When I wake up I usually groan and fall back asleep for another ten minutes. I make sure to have a few alarms set so I don’t sleep through the morning!

28 My roommate. We’ve known each other for three years and she doesn’t judge me or make me feel uncomfy- it’s really nice as someone with autism to be able to live in close, constant contact with someone who you trust and are comfortable around!

30 Hmm...maybe? Marriage isn’t something I’ve ever truly thought about in a realistic sense- sure, I’d imagine a wedding and what mine would look like if I had one. But I’ve never imagined actually GETTING married to someone.

32 I will not have a threesome with celebrities because I am ~traumatised~ and do not like sexual intimacy

34 I don’t play sports, but when I was little I was part of a gymnastics class!

36 I have indeed liked someone and never told them. It was honestly for the better lmao

38 I don’t think I can really describe a dream person? I’m not very keen on having a list to check off when looking for a partner. If anything, though, I’d say trustworthy and caring.

40 I’m already out of high school lol. I’m in my junior year majoring in Early Childhood/Special Education!

42 Being extremely quiet for me usually means sensory overload, depressive thoughts, or my rejection sensitive dysphoria rearing its ugly head. Most of the time its a mix of the three.

44 Trip to puter space > bottom of the ocean, any day. DEEP SEA SCARES ME!

46 I’m paranoid that everything I’ve ever done in my life is all for naught, and I’ve faked everything about myself subconsciously.

48 I have been drunk before! My seven year old self accidentally drank a full margarita instead of the kiddie version my grandma made with sprite instead of alcohol.

50 The color of the last hoodie I wore was grey!

52 One thing I wish I could change about myself is I wish I didn’t have so much weight. It’s not fun trying to navigate the world as an afab nonbinary person with people telling you it’s “just because you don’t like your body”.

54 My favorite store is Walmart for groceries (broke college students holla) and Torrid for clothes! (They have cuter stuff than anywhere else, and carry my size always)

56 My favorite color is Blue! Kind of a dark sky blue, like sky blue 3 or 4

58 I just had some Hershey’s candy drops as the last thing I ate!

60 In fourth and fifth grade I won two school writing competitions and got a trophy for it 😌 I wrote about the Titanic (thank you special interest)!

62 I have never been arrested, and I’m not planning on it any time soon lol

64 My first kiss was a dare and I hated every second of it cause the guy was an ass about it until it happened (he’d been badgering me for weeks)

66 Uhh I’m gonna be honest and say no? As much as I love my tumblr friends (ayy hi guys) I’ve known my friends in real life for longer and those bonds are just, amazing and so strong.

68 Tumblr > Twitter, any day.

70 my best friends’ names are: Emili, Autumn, Maggie, and Erin

72 My towels are grey

74 I have many stuffed animals- uh probably seven or eight.

76 Not answering this one lmao

78 My favorote ice cream clavor is Graham Central Station from this place called Bruster’s! It’s really good.

80 I am wearing blue pajama pants because ~comfy~

82 My favorite movie is Coraline! I watch it repeatedly

84 Mean Girls > 21 Jump Street

86 Nemo is my favorite character from Finding Nemo!

88 The last person I talked to today was my roommate

90 I love my baby brother Reid!

92 I am not currently in a fight with anyone.

94 I own three sweaters/hoodies- I need to get more!

96 My favorote actress is and always will be Kiera Knightley.

98 I do not tan a lot- naturally or artificially. I just burn #whitepeopleproblems

100 I am feeling *tired*. A bitch is exhausted today

102 I regret everything from my past

104 I don’t tend to miss people that much? I’m not good with emotional connections to people that last after they’re gone.

106 I feel like I’ve broken my mother’s heart- for coming out, for rebelling, etc.

108 I should be working on homework but I am not.

110 I have indeed liked someone so much it hurt- in the sense that liking them was not good for me and led to a lot of heartache.

112 The last person I cried in front of was my parents, and it was not on purpose lmao

114 I’ve been out of my state lots- Florida, South and North Carolina, West Virgina, Delaware, Massachusetts.

116 Nope, not currently listening to music.

118 I fuckin LOVE chinese food

120 I used to be afraid of the dark, not anymore. I love it now.

122 Cheating is NEVER okay.

124 I do not believe in love at first sight- I barely believe in love 🤷🏼

126 I am indeed currently bored

128 I would love to change my name- legally and personally. I’m not sure “Ryn” is suitable anymore

130 I don’t like subway. Not a fan of sub sandwiches

132 The last person I had a deep conversation with is my roommate

134 Pfft, no. I can’t count to one million my brain wouldn’t focus that long

136 Due to the fact I live in a community dorm hall, I sleep with my door closed and ~locked~

138 Straight hair

140 Winter > Summer

142 My favorite month is October! Atlanta Pride, my birthday, and Halloween! Plus it starts getting colder!

144 Dark>Milk>White chocolate, in that order

146 Since it’s now morning, yes today has been a good day so far

148 My favorite quote is anything that has to do with being a decent fucking human being

150 The first line of the page is “You were right”.

[flawlesspeasant]

I don’t know if you have even been watching season 16 or if you’re still writing jolex fics but I have a prompt SPOILER FOR MIDSEASON FINALE!!! Fic: Alex’s reaction that jo stole a baby!

this is short and there are probably typos because i wrote it really quick on my phone and didn’t proofread, but yay for being inspired!

                         ————————————

truth is, the two days in iowa made me miss her and that was something i didn’t realize until i stepped outside into the familiar seattle drizzle and waited for the blue honda to park curbside.

the uber was ten minutes late. i called him six times and he answered on the seventh, just to tell me that he was stuck in traffic on the freeway and he’d be there in five more minutes. my first instinct was to yell or look for something soft i could throw at the bathroom wall because she was right, throwing things really does make you feel better.

i’d decided to throw a starbucks cup. a sweet-talking little teenage girl left it there a few minutes ago when she took a call from her boyfriend, and it was half empty so i didn’t think she’d be coming back for it. i was going to take the cup, duck into the bathroom and toss it at the wall repeatedly, over and over, until i felt better because all i wanted to do was get home to her.

the uber came before i could make it into the bathroom, though.

and i knew that it was entirely impossible, but i started to feel like maybe there was somebody in this airport that had access to my mind. stupid, i know. but on the off chance that somebody in the place knew what i was about to do, i tossed the cup into the garbage can like it was what i was going to do the entire time. i didn’t linger around to see if anyone would come back for the cup and frankly, i didn’t care. i just grabbed the small suitcase that she convinced me to take and headed out through the double doors.

i think that was when i started to feel like i missed her.

i didn’t miss her once while i was there because i was busy, barking orders at mom’s caretakers and demanding they give her a room without steps because if she fell down them one more time, i would sue. i didn’t have time to sit down and think about how much i missed the way she’d curl her fingers through my hair in the mornings before i woke up or how she sat me down and gave me an entire presentation on how much more financially responsible it is to stuff everything into a tiny carry-on suitcase instead of paying $45 to check a bag.

but then i was crammed into the backseat of the smallest honda, watching the raindrops drip down my window, thinking about how i could make it home just in time to hear her sing in the shower. that alone was enough to make me grin. see, she sings pretty. i mean, if you asked her if she was a good singer she’d tell you that she isn’t because she can’t hit those really high notes and plus she’s humble. but in reality, she’s great.

iowa made me miss her.

and when i say that i miss her, i don’t mean that lightly.

i missed the big things. like how she always looks for me when she enters the room and how she reaches over to hold my hand when i drive her to work. she looks out the windows and counts the number of trees that haven’t lost their leaves yet and i always shake my head and tell her that she’s “goofy” but what i really mean to say is remarkable.

i missed the little things, too. like way her hair sticks to my chest when she needs to hear my heart beating in the middle of the night, and the way her nose wrinkles when i tease her with a good morning kiss. like the way her eyes wrinkle at the sides when she’s laughing because i burned toast and the small hairs around her ears that she always manages to leave out of a ponytail.

loving her at first was like trying to reign in a hurricane. she came in waves, anger then softness. harsh, then gentle. she ripped through everything that she touched, left carnage in her dust and in the eye of hurricane jo, i stood to be grounded. the eye was the calm. the gentle ways she rubbed my back if she knew i needed a little bit of her, the way she squeezed me in a hug if i needed a lot. she was powerful, and all i could do was try to predict her outcomes, but she was unpredictable. she was strong.

until one day, she wasn’t.

she was undone at the seams, falling apart at every corner. hurricane jo was waning, moving inward to uncharted territory, and the only thing i could do was watch. her strength turned to vulnerablity and she needed me in a way i had never been needed. at last, she was broken and it was up to me to do the fixing.

i was hesitant about therapy at first. i didn’t think that i needed it. funny that way, because after one session, i learned that i didn’t need to chase her. loving her was like reigning in a hurricane, but she didn’t need to be reigned in. i didn’t have to chase her, i just had to follow. she led the way and i trusted her to navigate us into new territory.

she’s back now, by the way. that wild, unpredictability is still the center of her being and i’m glad for that because i don’t know how to love anything less than her whirlwind ways. i’m finally realizing that she was never really gone, her light just burned a little less bright and she has the tools to reignite it now. and i know that i’ve gone soft for her. i mean, when most people think of alex karev they probably don’t think of a guy who sits in the backseat of an uber and reflects on how much he loves his wife. but i swear, if she was your mess — the good kind and the bad — you would go soft, too. hurricane jo has that magic inside of her.

i handed the uber driver two crisp twenties when he pulled up to the loft, and i slid out. the window to our living room was glowing from the outside, so i knew that she was up and she was ready and she was probably waiting for me.

my immediate thought was that she was pregnant, and that scared me which, i found to be a bit weird, actually. because it’s not like i didn’t want a baby with her. i wanted all the parts of her — the mess and the beauty — and maybe the best parts of me. i wanted it all swaddled up into a soft blanket for me to look down at and ogle with love. but the feeling in the pit of my stomach was like going down a rollercoaster ride. the dread and the anticipation swirled all up inside of me, trying to figure out how to coexist at the same time.

i eyed the car seat sitting by the door and closed it, silently trying to think of other reasons why a car seat would be in our loft.

i was sure that she would have told me if she was pregnant, though. if she were pregnant, there’s no way she would have been able to keep that in. jo’s good at keeping secrets, but she definitely would have called me because she’d be bursting and plus, she knows just how badly i’ve wanted this. maybe she was babysitting for hunt and teddy, that was my next thought.

she knew i was home because there’s no way she didn’t hear the door slam shut behind me. i kicked my shoes off on the rug beside the door and shrugged out of my jacket. i knew later she’d gripe at me for throwing it over the arm of the chair instead of hanging it up in the closet, but i didn’t care in that moment. all i cared about was getting to see her.

“jo...?” i called her name as i wandered into the kitchen. there was a half-eaten box of pizza on the stove, so i flipped it open and grabbed a slice. “how old’s this pizza?” i asked, mouth full and chewing.

“from yesterday,” i heard her voice behind me but when i turned around, she wasn’t there.

eventually, she came bounding from behind the divider that separates our bedroom, tongue between her teeth. she exaggerated her tiptoes, dramatic as she often is. watching her come over to me felt like i was waiting for my entire future to come. her hair was tied back in a high ponytail and it swung with every move she made. the sweatpants she got from my drawer hung off her hips and her favorite acdc t-shirt had a white stain down the front of it.

“hey,” i mumbled as the piece of pizza slivered down the back of my throat with a swallow.

“hey,” she sighed and raised up on her tiptoes to press her lips against mine. just like i missed, her fingers curled in my hair and she gave me an eye-crinkling grin. “how’s mom?”

“she’s good,” i tossed the crust of the pizza back into the box and grabbed the bottle of dr. pepper from the fridge to wash it down. “settled in, doing fine. she told me to tell you hi.”

“i’m glad she’s okay,” she continued to smile at me and rocked back and forth on her feet and i knew she was hiding something. “so.. we have to talk.”

“bout what?” I twisted the cap back onto the soda. “baby sleep?”

her eyes widened by about two sizes and she looked at me like i just said something completely forbidden.

“did link already tell you?!”

“tell me what?”

“about the baby...?”

“no? why would link have to tell me?”

“then how do you know?”

“know what? that you’re babysitting allison? the car seat’s right there, i —“

“oh! oh, god, okay, wait —“

“you’re being weird.” i mumbled under my breath as i headed for our bedroom. “how long you babysittin’ for? couple hours?”

“alex, wait. before you go into the room, there’s something i really have to —“

she jogged after me in order to keep up and probably get to the room before me, but i beat her there. i thought she was probably worried that i was going to wake the baby up, but i had no intention on doing that. i just wanted to change out of my pants because the bottoms were wet from the rain.

but when i rounded the corner and crossed the divider, there was nothing pink or blonde or blue-eyed about the baby snoozing on our bed. he was much too new — a few days old if i had to guess just by looking — to be allison. and much too... boy. i looked at jo, expression confused and she gnawed at her fingernail. she only did that when she was really nervous.

“i can explain...” she said, nervous as nervous can be.

a million things ran through my head and none of them were logical. i thought maybe shepherd had her baby and link enlisted her to babysit which was stupid, i know. then i thought that she didn’t know she was pregnant and had the baby at home while i was in iowa because the little tuft of brown hair on his head and his cream colored skin was enough to make me believe... maybe even wish... that he was ours.

“i thought i could handle it!” she started while i was still trying to process. “i told you when i agreed to be a volunteer that i wouldn’t do it if it was too much, that i would just walk away but —“

“he’s a safe haven baby? jo, look this is —“

“i know you’re thinking it’s illegal but it’s not, i checked.”

“you checked?”

“uh-huh! it’s perfectly legal! ...as long as his mother doesn’t come looking for him.”

“jo, you STOLE him. there are policies and procedures in place and certain things —“

“i know but alex, look at him! i can’t even explain it to you but i just held him and i... i just... i was done.”

“you said you weren’t ready for kids. jo, this is all too much for you. this is —“

“i know what i said! but alex, it was so weird. it was SO weird. they put him in my arms and it was like i knew. it was like... like he chose me or something. and then they came to take him away and i... i panicked! i couldn’t let them take him and put him into the system. he’s just so little and so... he’s so little. i panicked. and i told them i was his mother and i changed my mind.”

“this is insane... jo, he’s not ours!”

“but he could be! he could be! just look at him... i was going to call you and tell you but i knew you’d tell me no and this was something i had to follow. i felt it in my heart. i know you don’t understand now, but i need you to trust me. and trust what i feel. this is our baby. he’s meant for us. i knew it as soon as i held him, i knew it. i felt it. and if you held him, you’d feel it too.”

“jo... i...” i sighed and looked at the tiny guy, snoozing with his hands over his head. “this is insane.”

“i know, but just hold him.” she picked him up and handed him to me, awestruck by the little grunts he made as we shifted him. “just hold him.”

i took him into my arms and looked down at his tiny, defenseless body. and it felt wrong because i knew it was wrong. but i wanted to trust her and trust her feeling, so i held him. and i stood by her. because loving her is like trying to reign in a hurricane...

but sometimes i just have to follow her.

[ishades]

truten hcs 1/?

trunks catches videls bouquet with his face at her and gohans wedding. (she sort of accidentally threw them at him on purpose) goten laughs and picks them up for him

trunks was the first to fall in love. hed liked goten since he was 8 but it was just a crush he didnt actually consciously recognize. he first realizes hes in love with goten after goten goes on his first date at thirteen and comes home broken-hearted. 

he comes out as bi to his grandma paunchy first. and she laughs and just says “oh you really do take after your mother.”

he comes out to his mother next and she tells him she figured and that it was fine. she still loved him there was no need to worry about rejection over something like sexuality in this family

he comes out to his father last. hes reassured his father won be mad at him at this point. but that fear of dissapointment hes always carried when it comes to his father persists. vegeta takes is surprisingly well

“its none of my business the nature of your attraction.” and they continue training together. after theyre done and taking a breather, vegeta pats his back and says in his gruff voice “love is what makes a person strong. loving another is the most powerful thing anyone can do. much more powerful than super saiyan 3. im proud of you.” he wont look at trunks but he can see his fathers a little red in the face, eyes misty. he doesnt try to make fun of his father for it.

just hugs him as tight as he can and vegeta makes a big stink about it grumbling at first but letting it happen. he rests an arm around his sons shoulders and they just sit like that together for a minute. 

its just like the first time his father hugged him. but different. because this time he really knows his father loves him

vegetas more than a little miffed about trunks being in love with “kakarots spawn” and insists goten “seduced my son”. he gets over it soon enough and becomes on of his sons biggest supporters only rivaled by gohan and paunchy. goku... gokus really up there too tbh

gotens really scared to come out to his mother but chichis really understanding and accepting. “i want you to be happy son. i married an alien and had two children with him. you being in love with a man is small potatoes. love is love.” much like vegeta shes kind of disappointed in his taste in men but gets over it quickly. shes known trunks since he was a baby. life goes on. she gets trunks and goten to join that years couples holiday picture 

goten works at a zoo in his teens but later becomes a nurse. if the zoo ever calls him for help hes on it though no questions asked. he loves feeding the baby raptors

also worked at a wcdonalds... can no longer eat food from wcdonalds

their first kiss is in trunks’ room. when theyre 16. theyre listening to a daft punk album while goten vents his dating woes to trunks. “she told me i kiss like a drunk walrus. its not my fault it was my first kiss” trunks asks if hed like some practice, palms sweating. 

trunks leans in, heart racing and goten doesnt pull away. instant crush plays in the background. gotens date was right: he does kiss like a drunk walrus.

“have you kissed other boys before?” goten asks when they separate, cheeks red. trunks wipes his mouth with his wrist.

“have i kissed boys before? youre kidding right? im irresistible, and dont you forget it son goten” he strikes a silly pose and all the tension evaporates in the room.

they eat dinner with trunks’ family that evening and they try not to think about the kiss. trunks does pretty well on that department until he gets back to his room after goten leaves and just holds a pillow to his face screaming. 

the two fake practices afterwards are really anything but. goten finally admits the third time that he wished they did it more often.

trunks asks him out after like a week of internal and external debate (vegeta keeps telling him to get to it). he ends up blurting it out when theyre playing video games one afternoon

they literally get married the day after goten graduates. goten argues he should get two cakes instead of one. chichi doesnt budge

theyre completely functional apart but hate being separated for long. theyre each others best friend! just being in the same room togethers bliss.

when they argue... boy. trunks yells and then clams up and gets really quiet. goten has a mix of goku and gines temperament so stuff usually... takes awhile to build up for him. 

they make up really quick.

trunks is trans bi and gotens cis bi.  

trunks springs the question on goten randomly one day. (”hey. do you wanna have a baby? with me.”) and goten really really does he wants a family with a kid.

asks trunks to let him think about it (he goes over their finances and checks out how long they could be on paternity leave for their respective jobs)

then they go see shenron. and ask for a baby of their own who takes after both of them. it takes shenron a day to magic up that baby but then theyre literally holding their own child swaddled up in their arms by the time dinners ready.

they name her son korusetto daikon vegeta-briefs (korusetto like corset and daikon like the radish. vegeta gives her that name) yes shes got liek three last names and she owns it

she has black and purple hair because shes literally a fusion of her fathers.

tfw you and your husband have to perform the fusion dance to get your daughter to stop crying for thirty minutes but vegeta can hold her and shell perk up or calm down immediately.

bras 15 when they make the wish and she launches into aunt / big sister mode immediately.

gohans best uncle hands down

they make uub and marron little daikons godparents and theyre both so excited. 

trunks and videl have lunch dates like once a month and just kind of bond. videls the older sister he never had and now that hes older shes not the gross girl dating his best friends brother. shes a cool woman with a wicked sense of humor he can vent about what a hassle it is to date a son with.

they renew their vows ten years after they get married and its mushy. they terrorize the party goers 

theres more but thats just a little bit

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (17/?)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be. 

Rating: Mature

A/N: Remember that thing I said about a happy ending? They’re (and you guys) are getting one💜

Soon! I’m sorry to those I mislead! I didn’t realize that. Oops. They’re getting one when the story is over, I promise 😘

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current 

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Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64  @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @snowbellewells @blowmiakisscolin

“How does that make you feel?”

She cuts her head to look at Dr. Lawrence and the way she’s tapping her pencil against her notebook, the one where she most likely writes down “Emma Swan is crazy” over and over again. It’s what she would write down if she were her own therapist because damn, sometimes she is crazy.

“Isn’t that a little cliché to ask me how that makes me feel?”

She sighs, her shoulders heaving the slightest bit, and she rolls her eyes. She likes Dr. Lawrence. She really does, but sometimes all she wants to do is take that notebook and rip it into pieces. She’s been coming here for two months now, since late February, and April isn’t bringing her any new revelations. Not that she thought therapy would. She just wanted to talk to someone else who wasn’t so emotionally invested in her life, to talk to someone who won’t get hurt by the things she has to say. They’re not all great, and she’s only a little ashamed by that. That’s what she’s supposed to be working on though.

“It is, yes, but I think it’s a legitimate question to ask when you’ve been circling around saying that it bothers you that Killian hasn’t proposed yet.”

Her lips press together in a firm line, a sour feeling settling in her stomach and making it twist into something that has to be unnatural. Feeling this way has to be unnatural. “I did not say that.”

“Not in those words, but you did.”

She sighs again, unable not to, before falling back on the couch and rubbing at her eyes, most likely making her mascara run and create some kind of weird, smoky eye raccoon look. This is a really uncomfortable couch, the cushions almost like rocks. Shouldn’t the thing be more comfortable? Aren’t people supposed to feel comfortable in here? That’s a thing, right?

“I’m not,” she starts, not really sure where the words are going as she uncovers her eyes and looks up at the paneled ceiling. They should do that in the living room. It’d look nice. “I’m not upset that Killian hasn’t proposed. Us getting married has never been a top priority for us, you know? We love each other, and a piece of paper and a diamond ring isn’t going to make us love each other more.”

“But it is more of a commitment.”

“Technically, yeah. With the whole legal aspect and all. I don’t – I don’t know. I want  to marry Killian. I really, really do. And I know he wants to marry me. He’s had a fucking ring for at least five months now, had to have had it for a few months before that, and he’s never asked me.”

“You’ve had a lot going on.”

She chuckles darkly, her stomach untwisting and sending that unpleasant feeling to her throat so that she feels like she could vomit all over the hardwood floor in here. That would probably be an extra fee that insurance doesn’t cover. “What? You mean like my dead ex-husband coming back from the dead, having to explain to him ‘hey honey, I moved on from you and am in love with your friend and can’t make you happy like that anymore. By the way, I realized most of our marriage was shit, but I can’t harbor any resentment toward you because you’re a hero and the father of our kid and have been through more bad things than I thought possible. Plus, you know, I did love you at one point and you’re a nicer guy now.’”

She finishes her words on a long breath, her shoulders releasing some of their tension, before she twists her head to the side and looks at Dr. Lawrence furiously scribbling notes down. Great, she’s probably going to get put into a mental institution now. Can her therapist do that?

Probably not.

God, she has got to get a grip.

And stop on the way home and get something for dinner so her mom isn’t forced to feed her when she picks Henry and Ada up from her house. Killian’s working late on some project with Robin that she cannot wait to be over. She swears that it’s aging him by ten years some days. He’s always so tired and stressed. Sometimes she wonders if he needs a new job, one that’s less stressful and reminds him less of his time in the Navy, but whenever she brings it up, he always says that he’s happy there and that the money is good. She believes him, but it doesn’t keep her from worrying about him and wanting to work on the stress that’s in his shoulders and between his brows.

Dr. Lawrence still doesn’t say anything, and for some reason this bothers her enough to make her keep going, to keep rambling.

“And I guess…things have calmed down now. It was like I was walking a tightrope for a long time, and I wasn’t allowed to trip or fall, you know? Because if I did, things fell apart. I had to be strong for Henry and for Ada. I had to be strong for Neal too. And Killian, even when we were going through that…even when we were going through that rough patch. But I failed, you know? I felt so lost and helpless. Sometimes I felt worthless, which is not an uncommon feeling for me but recently, it wasn’t a usual one. It took me a long time to get over Neal’s death, to get over being abandoned again, and Killian just made me feel so – he made me feel solid. Happy. Good. He was there for me when I felt like I had no one. He listened to me cry over my husband’s death. He listened to me cry over raising a baby alone. He listened to me. And he let me be me, which was something I didn’t have a lot.”

She smiles to herself thinking of it all, of all of the times Killian has been there with her and for her throughout the years, all the way back to them meeting in Oceania and him making her laugh. He’s always making her laugh.

“He’s my best friend on this planet. I can be myself when I’m with him, and he has held my hand through the shitstorm that have been parts of my life, even when I didn’t want to let him. I love him, you know? And I’m badass, by the way. Just thought that needed to be said. I’m badass and totally could have made it on my own, but Killian…with him I get to be strong and independent while also having that hand holding mine for comfort and support. He’s made my life so much better. He’s given me Ada, and really, he’s given me Henry too. So, yeah, I guess I am bothered by the fact that he hasn’t proposed yet. I’m worried that maybe he’s changed his mind again. I shouldn’t really. I know he loves me. He doesn’t let me doubt that. I just…I want to be with him fully. Hell, I want me to not have a different last name than both of my children. I want to marry him, and yeah, a part of me is worried that he doesn’t want to marry me, that everything with Neal has made our entire relationship be altered.”

Once the words are out, she knows that she can’t take them back. She doesn’t want to take them back. This is…this is her life and her emotions and she needs to feel them. It feels really good to say all of that, and honestly, she wants to say more. She wants to talk more about Killian and more about Neal. She wants to go back to what they were talking about last week and how Neal’s moving has affected everyone, especially Henry. She wants to talk about how terrified she is being a parent and putting her kids in such stressful, life changing situations.

She wants to talk.

But the clock on the wall says she only has ten minutes left, and she figures that Dr. Lawrence has to have something to say or else she’s been writing on that notepad for nothing.

She reaches up to wipe her eyes, to wipe away the tears that have been furiously falling without her permission before her hand lands on her pendant. She’s going to have to make herself look less puffy. She doesn’t even remember when she started crying.

“I think Neal coming back has altered your relationship,” Dr. Lawrence begins, and Emma sits up on the couch, straightening out her shirt and her back as she sniffles. “How could it not? Besides the emotional trauma and joy of having him be found alive, it’s completely changed your life. You and Killian are no longer parents to Henry alone. You share that responsibility even if the two of you carry the load. Your ex-husband is no longer a dead man. He’s a real human being with thoughts and feelings that aren’t always going to be perfect, so you have to adjust to that too. For as much change as you’ve been going through, Killian has been going through something too. You have to give him the emotional time to adjust as well because while I don’t know the man, I do know that he cares about you and is probably putting your feelings above his.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe Killian thinks that you’re not ready yet, that he thought you were still going through too much emotional upheaval until you two talked about it a bit – ” she looks down at her notebook, eyes seemingly searching for something “ – two weeks ago.”

Ah, so maybe she does actually pay attention.

“Does that really count as talking, though? I literally just hinted around at it.”

She smiles. “But it’s a start.”

-/-

“Henry, you have got to put your shin guards on so that we can go.”

“I can’t find them,” he shouts back over the railing.

“Of course you can’t,” she mutters to herself, rolling her eyes a bit as she looks down at Ada who is currently banging her hands against the wall and giggling to herself. Kids are so damn weird sometimes. She doesn’t understand what the purpose of banging her hands against the wall is, but if she’s about to have to go upstairs and help Henry find the rest of his soccer uniform, she can’t leave her down here by herself despite how much baby proofing they’ve done.

Her entire house is metaphorically wrapped in bubble wrap, and Ada still manages to find ways to nearly kill herself just by exploring.

This is terrifying.

How is Killian not back from his run and the grocery store yet? He’s already supposed to be here so they can go to the fields together like they’ve done every Saturday this spring. He already missed their usual breakfast, so he really needs to show up soon. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic or there was some kind of freak watermelon accident and there are watermelon all over the road. Or maybe he ran into someone he knows. She doesn’t know, and even though she really shouldn’t be angry at him right now, she’s had a bad morning and needs him.

And she misses him. He’s here, always right here, but he’s felt so distant lately, so far away. She felt so good after her therapy appointment on Tuesday, like she was ready to talk to him and finally fix things and have all of her emotions centered, but she’s barely gotten a chance to talk to him in the three days since. Both of their jobs have been busy, the kids have been insane, and then she had to deal with Neal cancelling his trip into town this weekend. She understands, really, but Henry understanding is different. He misses his dad, and if the hour long phone call last night is any indication, Neal misses Henry too.

Her life is a constant ebb and flow of being all together and all falling apart.

No, her life is good. She’s just been stressed the past few days. That’s all.

“Come on, bug,” she sighs, stepping toward Ada and picking her up, wondering when in the world this kid got so heavy. Ada lets out what has to be an actual, blood curdling scream and starts thrashing around while Emma carries her up the stairs. “Ada, shhh, it’s okay. We’re just going upstairs. You don’t have to have a meltdown.”

That somehow only makes things worse, the cries going up another decibel, and she resigns herself to this as she walks down the hallway into Henry’s room. There are clothes scattered everywhere, his notebooks spread across the floor. When in the world did his room get to be such a mess? He has to clean that tonight or tomorrow. It cannot stay like this.

“I can’t find them,” he whines again, tossing a pair of shoes out of his closet, the pair of converses landing on one of his books.

“Have you checked in your bag?”

“That’s the first place I looked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he shouts, coming out past the doorway and running his hands through his hair, yanking at the brown strands. “Why is Ada so loud? Make her stop.”

“I’m trying, kid.”

“Try harder.”

“Hey, no,” she says sternly, trying not to yell to escalate the situation, “you do not get to tell me what to do, especially not being loud and harsh like that. I understand that you are upset and can’t find your shin guards and that your sister is being really loud. I get that. I don’t like it either, but yelling isn’t going to solve any of our problems.”

“Ada is yelling.”

“Henry,” she sighs while Ada lets out another loud cry. Shit, this is not a good day. It’s not even ten in the morning yet. “Ada is a baby. She can’t really talk. You know this. I’m going to text your dad and ask if he knows where your stuff is.”

“How would my dad know if he doesn’t live here anymore?”

Her stomach drops for a moment before she realizes that she used the wrong term for Killian. It’s usually not confusing, but sometimes it’s so easy to slip up like that.

“Your daddy,” she corrects. “I’m going to text your daddy.”

“Killian is not my daddy. He’s my step dad.”

Her stomach really does drop then, a heavy anchor weighing her down and making it nearly impossible for her legs to stay steady and her arms to stay strong against a still wailing Ada, even if her cries are beginning to calm down. What did…what did Henry just say?

Why did he just say that Killian isn’t his daddy? She knew that sooner or later he’d feel too old to call Killian his daddy, that he wouldn’t always call him by the name he started calling him when he was five, but he’s not supposed to be calling Killian his step dad. Yeah, that’s pretty much what he is, technically, but that’s also not what he is. He’s his dad. He’s the man who raised him, and Henry should never think otherwise when that used to be all he knew.

“Where did you learn that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Henry.”

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest while his lips curl downward. Does she have the most dramatic kid in the world? Probably not. But he seems to be going for that title today. She’s just waiting for him to start crying or throwing things. Or hopefully not throwing things. That would be a disaster.

This day is kind of a disaster.

At least she hasn’t gotten to the point where she has to take away Henry’s games yet.

“My dad told me that’s what Killian is.”

Motherfucking hell.

She’s going to start crying.

And throw something.

Maybe throw Neal. Definitely throw Neal. He’s bigger than her and hundreds of miles away, but she could get it done. She could. Absolutely. All of those stories about mothers raging to protect their children – one of those is going to come true after she figures out what the hell is going on. Neal wouldn’t have told Henry that. He wouldn’t have. But then why would Henry have said that? He obviously knew he wasn’t supposed to tell her before she pushed him into saying it, so he was probably trying to protect his dad.

But why would Neal have told Henry that in the first place when they explicitly told him over and over again that this is how their family situation works?

It must be some kind of misunderstanding. It has to be. Neal wouldn’t do that, and if he did, it has to be a mistake, a slip of the tongue. She’ll call him later and get it all straightened up. It’ll be fine. Right now she really just has to focus on Henry and this situation and getting him to his soccer game.

Swallowing the gulp caught in her throat, she puts Ada on the ground, figuring that’s probably all that she wants to stop this crying, and squats down so that she’s at eye level with Henry, reaching up to brush his hair off of his forehead while he stares at her with those watery chocolate brown eyes.

“Kid,” she whispers quietly, curving her lips into a small, hopefully reassuring smile while she keeps pushing his hair back, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Henry nods his head up and down, his little shoulders heaving while Ada has managed to make her way to Henry’s bed and is holding herself up on it. At least she’s not banging on the door.

“Killian is your daddy. You can call him Dad if you want to, if you feel too old to be calling him Daddy. That’s okay. You are a very special kid, and like I’ve told you before, you get to be lucky enough to have two dads who love you and care for you more than anything in the world. Not every kid gets that like you do.”

“But Dad told me when we were on the phone that Kil – that my daddy is my step dad. Like how Ella has a step mom.”

She doesn’t know how to explain this. It was easier when Neal was dead, which is a horrible thing to think. But Henry understood it much more easily then. He embraced it more. Now he’s older, though, and has an entirely different situation for his life.

She wishes Killian were here. He’d help and know what to do and know what to say despite the fact that this would break his heart even more than it’s breaking hers.

“It’s…it’s grown up things. I,” she sighs, running her free hand through her hair and trying to think while her thighs begin to ache from this position. “You know how when we told you about Ada being born, we told you it was because Mommy and Daddy loved each other and that helped to make her?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, back when your dad and I were married, we loved each other and made you so that we could love you.”

“I know.”

She smiles at him again, making sure that her eyes don’t leave his except to glance over to Ada as she plops down on the ground and starts messing with some of Henry’s books. Thank God she’s stopped crying. That was miserable. Her entire life was about to implode in the span of five minutes.

“But then your dad disappeared, and I didn’t have him to help me love you or me anymore. But your daddy came along and he fell in love with me and  with you. And he was around to help you learn how to walk and talk, just like he is with Ada. He took you to the pool to go swimming and to the playground. He went to all of your school plays and all of your birthday parties. He tucked you into your bed at night and read you stories, and he’s spent so much time loving you and me and your sister that I don’t think we can even imagine how much he loves us.”

Henry nods his head, and she desperately hopes that he understands. She doesn’t understand how to explain this without scarring Henry for life about sex when he is so not ready for that. She knows that some parents are fully open with their kids about things like that, but it’s not her parenting style.

“So he and my dad are the same?”

“Y-yeah,” she sputters, knowing that she needs to attack this conversation with a better plan later but thankful that things have seemed to calm down. “They’re the same. They’re both your dads, and they both love you so much that I bet your arms don’t even stretch out that far.”

Henry sticks out his arms to test the theory out, and she can’t help but chuckle at that. He has such childlike innocence and faith for someone who keeps having his life changed and uprooted, and even though she still feels like a frayed wire right now, she knows that she has a set of good kids in her life.

Leaning forward, she wraps Henry up in a hug and holds him as tightly as she can without smothering him. He hugs her right back, and she feels a little of the lead that’s in her stomach dissipate.

“Come on,” she says as she pulls back, “we’ve got some shin guards to find and a soccer game to go to.”

They find the shin guards in the kitchen of all places, and even though they have to practically sprint across the fields to get to his match, they make it in time. She knows a lot of the other parents there, a lot of them have kids in Henry’s class, but she prefers to sit under this tree in the shade with Ada. It’s at the corner of the field, so she still has a clear shot of Henry and he does of them.

Emma: Where are you?

Emma: We’re already at the fields. Hope you get here soon!

Emma: We’ve had quite the morning. Can’t wait to tell you about it later.

She puts her phone down on the blanket and pulls Ada back to her so that she can adjust her hat on her head, making sure she’s totally shaded while she slathers more lotion on her.

“Mama,” Ada babbles, grabbing at her necklace with enough force that she could snap it. Emma has to immediately grab Ada’s hand and move it away before twisting the necklace around so that Ada can’t see the diamonds. “Mama. Mama. Mama.”

“What?” she laughs, scrunching her nose up when Ada tries to grab at it too. “Baby, you’re driving me crazy today. Nothing makes you happy, and you’re going to either rip my nose off or break the necklace your daddy gave me.”

Ada giggles at that, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and Emma can do nothing more than shake her head as she continues to get Ada’s arms with lotion. She’s wearing a United jersey with Jones written across it that Killian got her. He’s so extra sometimes, and this is a prime example of it.

She kind of loves that.

Plopping Ada down on the blanket in front of her, she snaps a picture of her back with the soccer field in front of her, and sends it off to Killian, hoping that he’ll answer this one since he hasn’t answered any of her other texts and calls. She’s trying to ignore that and convince herself that it’s fine, but there’s this weird, sinking feeling that’s stayed with her all day. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe it’s something else entirely.

Emma: Henry’s number one fan!

The rest of Henry’s game (or is it match? She’s really not sure.) goes by pretty quickly. He’s at the age where the kids are actually pretty competitive, so it’s not so much all of them running around and kicking balls in the wrong goal as it is them legitimately trying to win the game. Not quite as cute as it used to be, but Henry likes it. That’s all that really matters.

“Did you see me kick that goal?” Henry gasps when he runs over to her after the game, his hair covered in sweat and grass stains covering his knees. “It was awesome.”

“It was awesome,” she agrees, holding her hand up for him to high five him before holding Ada’s hand up so that she can do the same, even if it’s not with quite the same impact.

“Where’s Daddy?”

“He got called into work,” she lies, not too sure how to handle this situation. That seems to be happening a lot lately. “He’ll be home later, though.”

The smile that was on Henry’s face instantly fades, the upward curl twisting down. “He didn’t see my game?”

“No, kid. He didn’t. But he wanted to.”

“He promised that he’d come to all of my games.”

“I know,” she laments, bringing him into her side. Poor kid. Both of his dads have bailed on him this weekend, and she knows that if it’s just today, it won’t mess with him too badly. But if it’s…if it keeps happening, well, it can’t keep happening. She won’t let it keep happening. “But sometimes things happen that make us break our promises. I’m sure your daddy is so sad about not getting to see you score that goal.”

“Yeah,” Henry sighs, his shoulders sagging forward as she starts to pick up all of their stuff so they can walk to the car.

It doesn’t take long even navigating through all of the kids and parents, and soon enough she’s driving out of the soccer complex and on her way home with the kids so that Henry can get showered and Ada can take her early afternoon nap. The music cuts off in the car as a phone call comes in, and she hits the button on her steering wheel to accept Neal’s call, leaving it on speaker since he’s probably calling for Henry anyways. Good. If he can’t fly home this weekend because of work then at least Henry will have this.

“Hey, Neal,” she greets, pulling up to a stop light and inching closer to the car in front of her.

“Hey, Ems. How are you?”

“Good, good. We’re on our way home from Henry’s soccer game. Kid, why don’t you tell your dad what you did today?”

“I scored a goal,” Henry shouts from the backseat, his voice far too loud. “It was really cool. Avery kicked the ball to me, and I kicked it right past the Dragons’ goalie. She couldn’t stop me.”

“That’s awesome,” Neal laughs. She can practically imagine the smile on his face, and it makes something in her heart settle thinking of how much Neal is here for Henry even when he’s physically away.

-/-

-/-

“Come on, Emma, push.”

“I can’t,” she cries, holding onto the handrails over the bed while a contraction roars through her body, making all of her limbs shake as she feels herself shutting down, feels her will to keep going fading. “I can’t do this by myself.”

“I am right here, Hon,” one of her nurses soothes, holding onto her hand even though Emma doesn’t know her name. She should know her name. She’s the woman who is by her side while she delivers her son. If she’s the only one going to be here, Emma should know her name. It’s too painful to ask. “You’re doing just great. So is your baby. His heartbeat is so strong, yeah. He gets that from you.”

“He’s okay? He’s still doing okay? This isn’t – this isn’t hurting him, ah, too much?”

Her nurse squeezes her hand, holding on tightly as she watches people move between her legs. She’s officially had her vagina stared at by more people than she ever thought would stare at it, and even though she doesn’t want to think about that and what’s happening right now, it’s all that she can focus on.

If she doesn’t, she’ll think about Neal.

He should be here.

He should be here holding her hand and helping her through this.

He should be here to hold his son when he’s born.

He should be here.

But he’s not. He can’t help it. He’s training. This is what he has to do. This is his job. He’s helping so many other people, and that’s what she has to remind herself. That’s what she has to keep repeating over and over again as she suffers through labor. Why did no one tell her how much this hurts? They did, but it was in broad terms. It wasn’t like this. It was never described like this. Everyone always glossed over it and told her that it would be all over and she’d have her baby in her arms and that everything would be okay.

How is this okay?

How is any of this fucking okay?

She’s by herself.

She’s alone and has no one here but this nurse who she still doesn’t know the name of to help her. Neal isn’t here. Ruth isn’t here. Neither is David. Or Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret would be good at helping here. She’s been through this. She’s so soothing even when she’s annoying and pushing all of her opinions on Emma.

She doesn’t even have any friends here. All of her friends are mostly Neal’s friends, and she doesn’t know any of them well enough to ask them to be here.

Why didn’t she make more friends? Why didn’t she keep some of hers from freshman year? She had friends, didn’t she? She had people she talked to and got lunch with. She knows that she did. She had to.

She’s been alone for so much of her life, but right here, right now, is the last place she ever thought she would be alone.

She can’t do this. She can’t. It’s too much.

Maybe she’s not meant to be a mother.

She can’t be one.

How could she when she didn’t have one for most of her life?

“I can’t be a mother,” she cries, tears stinging hotly behind her eyes while her contraction begins to wane. She knows it’s only a brief moment of reprieve. Her son is almost here. She knows that he is, that has to be. She’s been suffering in here for too long for him not to be here soon. She needs him to be here. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, Sweetie,” the nurse promises her, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. Neal always does that, and it’s so damn soothing. She misses him. He should be here. She can’t stop thinking that. He should be here. “You can be a mother. It’s just scary right now, but you’re doing great trying so hard to help this boy come into the world.”

“But I’m alone,” she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips before they get captured by a sob, one that moves her shoulders and makes her vision completely blur.

She’s alone.

She thought she finally wouldn’t be, but she is. She’s alone and terrified.

But she’s been alone for most of her life, and the sad truth is that she knows how to deal with it. She knows how to deal with handling things by herself, how to deal with pain and happiness, with loss and with celebration.

She knows.

So she can do it. She can get through it. She has to.

She can be a mother.

She can be a mother for this kid. Maybe even for herself too.

Her eyes haven’t seen this kid outside of a black and white picture. Her hands haven’t felt him move except for the hard kicks to her ribs that have taken her breath away. Her arms haven’t held him except when she’s cradled her bump at night.

She doesn’t know anything about this kid, but she knows that she loves him. She knows that she wants to be his mom and to be there for him for every day of his life.

She knows.

This is her son, and she can do this.

And she does.

Even with the epidural, it’s possibly one of the most painful things she’s ever experienced, and she knows that doesn’t go away anytime soon. All of the books told her that about the recovery. But there was no way they could tell her the pure joy that she feels holding this red, squirmy baby in her arms. He’s beautiful. He’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen in her life, and she made him with her body.

She and Neal made him.

They’re parents. They’re freaking parents.

She can’t wait to tell him, to let him know that his son is here, but right now all she wants is to spend time with her boy, to get to hold him and never let go.

She’s never letting go.

“Hey, Henry,” she sighs, rubbing her finger across his cheek while he looks up at her. He has Neal’s nose. She always thought people who could tell who a baby looked like when they’re born are crazy, but her kid has Neal’s nose. “I’m your momma. I am. You are so precious, and I love you so damn much. I’m pretty sure you don’t understand what I’m saying, so that curse is just between you and me, okay? Yeah? Just between you and me. Your daddy never has to know.”

“You did a great job,” her nurse sighs as she stands at the door. “That’s a good baby with a healthy mom.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her head back against the pillow. It feels so comfortable, but she’s not ready to go to sleep quite yet. “It really means so much to me to have had someone to hold my hand throughout all of that.”

“It’s certainly not a problem.”

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m sorry I didn’t ask before. I was kind of busy.”

“Ingrid.”

“Thank you, Ingrid.”

Ingrid walks out of the room, and she turns all of her attention back to Henry and the roundness of his eyes, the dark lashes. He’s so bald, but he’s got this one little patch of dark hair. He’s beautiful. Just beautiful. And not crying, which she thinks she likes most of all.

“I think you and I are going to be good friends, kid,” she tells him, letting him grasp onto her finger. “Like, you eat food from my boob, so it’s pretty much a given that we’re going to be close. Just saying. My body has gone through a lot for your existence, and I expect some good mother’s day gifts someday. Your daddy knows what I like. Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet your dad. You’re going to love him. He’s so funny. I bet he’ll make you laugh all of the time, yeah? But not as much as me. Don’t tell your dad, but I’m so much funnier than him. He has no idea.”

Throughout the rest of the day, nurses and doctors come in and out to check on both she and Henry. She knows that she takes a lot of naps, but it’s all a bit of a blur for her as some of the pain starts to kick in and she struggles getting Henry to eat. Once he does, though, she feels like infinitely less of a failure. It’s a weird feeling, being so devastated by something that’s really not in her control, but she has to keep reminding herself that she’s not going to be perfect at this and that things are going to go wrong. Hell, so many have already.

But Henry is here and healthy, and that’s all that matters. That’s always been what matters.

“Thanks for making me not be alone anymore, kid.”

-/-

-/-

Neal and Henry talk for the rest of the ride home, but really, it’s mostly Henry going on and on about his game and saying the same things several times while Neal pretends it’s brand new information to him. When she pulls into the garage, the door shutting behind them, she switches the call to her phone so that she can talk to Neal for a little bit while she sends Henry inside to take his shower, hoping that he’s actually going to wash himself instead of simply standing under the water.

“Thanks for calling him today,” she tells him as she rocks Ada back and forth in her glider, hoping that she’ll fall asleep soon and not have another meltdown. “It was kind of a big day for him, and you have no idea how much that means to him.”

“Of course. He’s my kid. Just because I’m not at home anymore doesn’t mean I’m not going to be there for him.”

Her heart lurches, practically dropping to the pit of her stomach, and she has to hold back the tears that are threatening to push through. That’s literally all she’s ever wanted since the day Henry was born.

“That’s good,” she sniffles, adjusting Ada in her arms. “You’re a good dad. You’ve done such a good job adjusting to being a parent to an eight-year-old who likes to talk back and who you can’t just cuddle with to make them stop crying.”

Neal hums on the other end of the line. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sound a little upset.”

“I – ” she begins, almost ready to spill all of her thoughts to Neal, but she bites her tongue to hold herself back. She’s not about to share how upset she is with Killian with Neal. That’s pretty much asking for disaster. She knows that they have a good relationship, a good friendship, but they’re not the kind of exes who talk about their love lives with each other. Not in graphic detail. They talk about Henry and the movies and old times. She doesn’t tell him her intimate thoughts, not anymore. “It’s been a long day. The kids had me about ready to pull my hair out.”

“Killian didn’t help?”

“He got called into work,” she lies, telling Neal the same one she told Henry earlier. Killian will call soon. He has to.

Neal clicks his tongue.

“What?” she asks, watching Ada’s eyes flutter closed.

“Nothing.”

“It’s obviously something, Neal. I know you. You click your tongue when you have something to say.”

“It’s just that, well, shouldn’t Killian be around for Henry’s soccer game?”

“Sometimes things come up.”

“That’s still a shitty thing to do.”

She huffs, all of that anger from this morning returning as the memories flood back to her brain. How in the world did she forget that she needed to talk to Neal? It’s like she got lulled into some kind of false sense of security and didn’t even realize it.

“You missed his game today too, Neal. For the exact same reason.” She doesn’t know if Killian is at work right now, but that’s what she’s going with. Something must have happened for him not to be here. “And we are far too old to be playing petty games over who is being a better parent to Henry. By the way, where the hell do you get off telling Henry that Killian is his step dad?”

She can feel her voice begin to raise, so she gets up from the chair and puts Ada in her crib, hoping that she’ll fall asleep quickly. When she exits the nursery, she can still hear the shower going, so she walks down the hall and into her bedroom, moving to the bathroom so Henry will be less likely to hear her talk. She can’t begin to count the number of arguments she and Killian have had in the bathroom. They don’t yell too often, but she doesn’t want Henry to hear any of it when they do argue.

Neal still hasn’t said anything, so she asks again. “Why did you say that?”

“I didn’t,” he finally says, his voice completely even.

“Henry told me that you did.”

“He’s a kid. He says crazy shit.”

“He’s a smart kid who only says things when he’s learned them somewhere else. Just admit to it so we can talk about it. It’s already a tricky situation, so we don’t need it to get worse.”

“What’s tricky about it? He’s my kid, and Killian is pretty much his step dad. I mean, you two aren’t married, so not really. But I figured that made it less complicated.”

Less complicated her ass. Why is he being such an ass about this? This is not him, not anymore.

“First of all, he is Killian’s kid too. I have never let Henry think that you’re not his dad. You are. That’s something I’ve made a priority for him to understand ever since he was old enough. But you cannot take away Killian’s right to him as well. Killian helped me raise him, Neal. For most of Henry’s life, Killian has been Henry’s dad too. That doesn’t just change.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that I wasn’t fucking around to raise him.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You might as well have, going on and on about Killian this, Killian that. Fuck, Ems. He’s not the greatest man in existence. You don’t have to put him on a pedestal.”

“I don’t.”

“Please,” he scoffs, and she feels acid swish in her stomach, twisting around as she settles down on the countertop next to the sink, her legs like jello beneath her. “You so do. Ever since I’ve come back it’s been all about Killian and the life you share and the daughter you have, like our marriage was absolutely nothing to you. I bet you didn’t even consider taking me back.”

“What the hell is your problem today? I’m trying to talk to you about our son to make sure that he doesn’t get confused, and you decide to be nasty to me? No, Neal, I didn’t really consider taking you back. Life moved on. It changed. But don’t you dare for a second think that I didn’t go through hell trying to figure out how to deal with things when you came home. I nearly lost my mind trying to handle everything. I care about you. You’re my friend, and I tried my best. But there’s no way you could have expected me to drop everything to be with you when I spent years grieving you.”

“I would have done it for you.”

“Bullshit. I loved you, but you never loved me in the same way. I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I know.”

“I think you’re making a mistake being with Killian.”

“I think you’re making a mistake trying to talk to me about this when it’s really none of your business.”

“If it affects my son, it is my business.”

She scoffs, bewilderment inching its way over all of her skin, gooseflesh rising. How fucking dare he try to turn this on her, try to gaslight her. This is what he’s always done. He’s always tried to steamroll her like this. She thought he’d changed, that he’s tried to be better, so why is he being like this? He shouldn’t be like this anymore.

“You know what affects your son, Neal?” she asks, her voice cold even to her own ears. “His dad fucking with how he thinks of one of his other parents. No part of that is okay, nor will it ever be okay. Don’t do it again.”

She hears him say her name on the other end of the phone, but she hangs up before he can say anything else. He’ll call back. She knows that he will, but she’s done with that conversation. It was ridiculous, in every single way. She knew it wouldn’t be comfortable bringing up the whole step parent thing, but she didn’t think it would ever turn into…that.

What the hell was that?

Neal hasn’t talked to her like that since he found out that she and Killian were together. It was harsh, but she understood in a way. Now though, she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand why he would be rude to her life that, why he would try to make her think that she’s doing something wrong by being with Killian, to make her think that she’s a bad mother. It’s how he used to talk to her, but it’s not how the man she’s known as talked to her ever since he came back.

It’s not supposed to happen like that anymore.

All she wants to do is cry, but she’s too tired to cry. If she starts, she may not be able to stop. It’s all too much. Today has been too much for her, and she still doesn’t know where Killian is, what’s going on with him. In the back of her mind she thinks that maybe she should be calling hospitals to make sure that he’s not in one, but something in her gut keeps her from doing that. She does text Mary Margaret and David, however, hoping that maybe one of them will have the answer.

She needs to know, and worry is slowly covering each inch of her skin.

“Mom,” Henry calls, stepping into her bathroom.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Can you make me a hot dog?”

“Sure,” she sighs, giving him a watery smile and wiping away at her eyes. “Let’s go do that.”

The rest of her day is spent with her kids, trying to entertain the both of them with games and movies, even going outside to play on the play set for awhile. She never hears from Killian, and only Mary Margaret texts her back to say that she hasn’t heard from him and that David’s got a busy day at work and probably won’t get back to her until his shift is over. It bothers her, makes her practically sick to her stomach, but she can’t focus on it as she focuses on making sure Ada and Henry have a good day.

It’s what she has to do if she’s doing this alone today.

That night, after she’s got Ada in her crib, she walks to the next room over and into Henry’s. They both cleaned up in here a bit today, so she doesn’t step over any legos or sharp objects as she crawls into his bed behind him, wrapping her arm around his waist and holding onto her son like her life depends on it.

Maybe sometimes it does.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, still flipping through one of his books.

“Cuddling with you because I love you so much.”

He squirms, but he still settles into her. “I love you too.”

“What are you reading?”

“Matilda.”

“That’s a good one.”

“I know. I like it. She has magic.”

She nods her head and settles it down onto Henry’s shoulder, reading behind him while he mumbles some of the words out loud. She doesn’t know how she got a kid who loves to read when she remembers hating it at his age, but she’s really thankful for that.

She’s thankful for Henry and how he changed her entire life for the better on the day he was born, how he brought magic into her life in a time that was so dark that even the stars seemed to disappear, blinking out one by one until there was no light left.

Except for Henry. He has always been the light.

“Did you know I love you?” she whispers to him.

“Yeah, you already said that.”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek and holds him a little closer. “It’s just that I love you and Ada so much that sometimes my heart can’t contain it, and I have to keep telling you so that you know how much I love you, how much I’ll always love you forever.”

“I love you and Ada too,” he says simply. She knows that he means the words, but they don’t have the same emotional depth that her words do. Good. He doesn’t need to feel how she’s feeling, like her heart is threatening to break into pieces over how much she loves him.

“And your dad and your daddy love you too. So much more than you even know.”

“I know. Mom, you’re making it hard to read my book.”

Emma chuckles, kissing his cheek again before she shifts out of the bed, figuring that she’s smothered him enough for tonight. Just because she needs to time with him doesn’t mean that he wants it. “In thirty minutes your light needs to be off and you need to be asleep, okay?”

“Whatever.”

“Henry.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Night, kid. Thanks for making me feel like I have real magic in my life.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

She closes his door behind her and makes her way downstairs, quickly checking on Ada on her way. The house is quiet, only the sounds of the air conditioner running and the refrigerator making ice filling the space. Usually she’d crave something like this. She’d crave having peace and quiet and not having to worry about anything for a little while. She can fix herself a cup of hot chocolate and settle down in front of the television to watch whatever she wants. Those are the nights she craves sometimes, but now that she has one of those, she wants none of it.

All she wants is for this day to be over, possibly for this day not to exist. Frankly, it sucked, and she knows that not everything will be fixed when she wakes up in the morning. She’s still pissed at Neal. Like, if he were home she would probably have the urge to punch him pissed. She’s worried about Henry and how everything is impacting him. She’s already emailed Dr. Hopper today, but sometimes she’s worried that him going to therapy and them trying so much to give him a good life is not enough.

Sometimes she worries that she is not enough.

That she’s not enough for her children.

That she’s not enough for Killian.

He has only made her feel that way once in all of their time together, and she doesn’t hold it against him, not anymore. She understands everything that he was going through. But right now, today, she needs him, and he’s not here.

She falls asleep on the couch, and when she wakes, it’s to a twist in her neck and a twist of the front door handle, Killian coming inside as quietly as possible. At first, she’s relieved that he’s okay, that he’s home, but then she remembers the absolute hell that she’s been through all day without him by her side, without him answering any of her calls.

“Where have you been?” she whispers. She thought the words would be louder, harsher, but she finds that she can barely get them past her lips.

Right now she’s just relieved that he’s okay, that his heart is still beating within his chest.

“Why aren’t you asleep, love?” Killian asks her, stepping into the bright light of the living room so that she can see the red rim around his eyes. “You should go to bed.”

“I’d really rather know why you ignored all of my calls all day long.”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Damn it, no,” she yells, this time the words coming out as she sits up further on the couch, “tell me now. I’m done being pushed around today. You have been gone. I have been worried. Henry has been worried, and you walk in here at two in the morning telling me that we’ll talk later. No, that’s not how this works.”

Killian nods his head while his lips press together in a firm line. He looks exhausted and like he’s been crying, and beneath all of her anger, she feels the worry for him that she’s felt all day. “You’re right,” he sighs, his lashes landing against his cheeks as he looks at the ceiling before his gaze finally finds hers. “I’ve got some things to talk to you about.”

[simplywylan]

16 for the angst pls

Oh I like this one

ANGST - 16: “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

-

The hospital had always been a safe place for Nico. 

Until today, at least. 

There really was nothing like coming to work and getting smacked in the face by a drunk patient. Granted, he didn’t mean to hit Nico, he was just completely intoxicated and unaware of his surroundings. And his strength. 

It took five people to finally get the guy to calm down, yet Nico was the only one who got smacked. The initial hit had caught him right in the nose, which resulted in a rather nasty nosebleed. Owen had managed to get him whisked away to an empty room so he could have some privacy and get cleaned up. Of course, Owen stayed by his side, just in case he needed any help. 

“This won’t be your first rodeo.” Owen handed Nico another tissue, taking the bloodied one and discarding of it. Nico was sat on the end of the bed, leaning forward as he waited for the bleeding to subside. 

Nico tried to laugh at Owen’s comment, but it hurt. He really hoped his nose hadn’t been broken. It didn’t feel it, at least. Owen searched through the drawers, eventually pulling out on of the icepacks they had. he smacked his hand against it, activating it before he handed it to Nico. 

After the initial hit, the guy had managed to catch Nico again, which had knocked him into a wall. It really wasn’t his day today. He had quite the bruise forming on his forehead already, but that wasn’t his biggest worry. Right now, he was just thinking about how Levi would react to all of this. 

“Sit up,” Owen instructed, to which Nico did. Owen gently pulled Nico’s hand away from his face, so he could see the full extent of his injuries. Thankfully, the bleeding had pretty much stopped now. “Bleeding has calmed down. How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” Nico glanced down at his hands, which were covered in his own blood, as were his scrubs. He sighed, knowing he’d have to go and change. He also knew he’d have to phone Levi, let him know that he was hurt at work and not jumped by some thugs. 

“It doesn’t look broken to me. I suggest going home and resting, Nico. You’re probably going to be pretty out of it from the blood loss and the bump to your head.” Though Owen had Nico’s best interest at heart, Nco didn’t really want to leave. He didn’t want to have to deal with Levi worrying over him. He was fine. 

“I’ll be fine,” Nico disagreed with Owen, pushing himself off the end of the bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, a sudden rush of dizziness hit him. He stumbled a little, placing his hand back on the bed to catch himself. Owen raised a brow at him, silently telling him ‘I told you so.’ “Okay, yeah. I’ll need to call Levi.” 

Owen chuckled as he took the last of the bloodied tissue from Nico’s hands, discarding of it. Nico pressed the icepack in his hand against his head, the cooling sensation helping to relieve the pain he was experiencing. Nico thanked Owen before he left the room, heading to the lounge so he could change and call Levi. 

Levi was meant to be having a relaxing day off, and now he was going to have to come to the hospital to pick Nico up because he had been hit by a patient he was only trying to help. Nico was sure Levi would laugh at him in the end, it was just the initial moment of shock he didn’t want to experience. 

He reached the lounge and entered, making his way over to his locker. He was thankful there was no one else currently in there with him. Nico placed the ice pack down on the bench behind him as he opened his locker, reaching in to get his clothes. 

Just as Nico was about to place his clothes down on the bench, his phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting him to an incoming call. He reached into his pocket, digging his phone out to check who it was. To no surprise, it was Levi. He sighed, sliding his thumb across the screen as he raised the phone to his ear. 

“What do you want?” Nico muttered, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he placed his clothes down. 

“Someone is in a good mood,” Levi scoffed down the phone. Nico rolled his eyes, sitting down on the bench, starting to feel dizzy again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lie. “No, no. I, um, had an accident.”

The other end of the phone was silent for a moment. Nico could tell that Levi had stopped whatever he was doing, waiting for Nico to tell him what had happened. After another moment of silence, Levi finally spoke up. “Accident as in you peed yourself accident, or accident as in you’ve been hurt?” 

“It’s not a big deal, but Owen isn’t allowing me to work, so-”

“Right, then I’m coming to get you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Nico went to reply but Levi hung up before he could even get the chance. With a sharp sigh, Nico lowered his phone and locked it, placing it down next to him. He just couldn’t wait until Levi got there, ready to chew his ear off for being so clumsy. 

-

Nico was just making his way out of the lounge when Levi suddenly appeared around the corner. AS Levi spotted him, he signaled for Nico to turn back around and walk back into the lounge. The expression he wore was less than impressed. 

This was surely going to be fun.

Nico dragged himself back into the lounge and let out a huff as he sat back down on the bench, the now slightly warmed icepack held against his head. Levi stormed into the room, closing the door behind them before he turned to face Nico, arms folded across his chest. Neither of the said anything to each other. In fact, Nico couldn’t even look up at Levi. 

“What the hell happened?” The tone of Levi’s voice was more worried then it was mad, which was not something Nico had expected. 

“A drunk patient was going mad and I just happened to get in the way. I’m fine!” Nico removed the icepack from his face, holding it in his hand as he leaned his arms on his knees. 

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?” Levi was quick to snap back, moving so he was knelt down in front of Nico. He raised his hand, his fingers gently ghosting over the tender skin on Nico’s forehead. Nico flinched at the contact, pulling back from Levi’s hand. 

Nico swatted Levi’s hand away when he tried once again to examine the wound, placing the icepack back on the sore area. Levi frowned, a deep line etched between his brows. 

“Nico,” Levi exhaled, resting his hands in his lap. “Let me worry and fuss over you, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I know,” Nico grumbled, catching Levi's eye. He lowered the icepack again, this time discarding of it to the side. It was practically room-temperature now, so it wasn’t much help anymore. “I’m fine though, honestly. I was lucky.”

“As long as you’re okay, then I’m happy. Now, how about we get home and, I don’t know, order some food and watch a movie?”

Nico lit up at Levi’s suggestion, nodding his head briskly, only to wince and press his hand against his head when he realized how much it hurt to do that. Levi chuckled to himself as he stood up from where he was knelt, holding out a hand for Nico to take. 

“That sounds great. I get to choose the movie though.” Nico took Levi’s hand and pulled himself up, stumbling slightly, dizziness hitting him yet again. Levi instantly wrapped an arm around his waist, helping Nico steady himself. Levi also took Nico’s bag from him, slinging it over his shoulder so Nico didn’t have to carry the heavy load. 

The two of them headed out of the lounge together, Levi tucked into Nico’s side to help keep him from getting too dizzy. Levi was just glad that Nico was okay, that he hadn’t been hurt even worse than he was. 

As they were making their way down the hall, Nico stopped, raising his hand to his head. Levi stopped along with his, brows furrowed as he looked up at Nico, concern fiddling his face. He slipped the bag off his shoulder and let it drop to the floor so he could help Nico, as it was clear he wasn’t okay. 

“Nico?” Levi tried to get Nico to answer him, but it wasn’t working. Nico had his eyes squeezed shut, hand pressed against his head, unable to hold himself up. Levi was the only thing keeping him from falling right now. 

It all happened so abruptly that Levi almost couldn’t believe it happened. Nico collapsed, Levi only just managing to catch him and keep him from hitting the floor. He’d been fine just moments ago and now he was laying on the floor, completely unresponsive. 

“Oh my God,” Levi muttered to himself, panic beginning to set in. In these situations, he was usually calm and collected, able to work quickly. Now that it was Nico who needed help, he seemed to forget everything he’d been taught. Levi looked up and looked around, the halls being completely empty. Of course, this would happen now. “Nico, can you hear me?”

Levi managed to get Nico onto his back, taking a deep breath to calm himself as he checked for a pulse. He was breathing, but it was shallow, which wasn’t good. Levi knew he couldn’t leave Nico’s side now. 

Just as he was about to call out for someone, a familiar face rounded the corner, like an angel in disguise. 

“Link!” Levi called out, waving him over. Link froze when he heard his name being called, glancing around until he spotted Levi on the floor, next to an unconscious Nico. He instantly rushed over to his side, eyes wide in panic as he wondered what had happened. 

“What happened?” Link questioned, trying to stay as calm as he could, as not to upset Levi more than he already was. 

“I-I don’t know! He was fine, then he just stopped and collapsed!” Levi explained, though he was frantic. Link cursed under his breath, looking around the hallways before getting up from where he was knelt next to Levi, rushing off to find some help.

Within a few seconds, Link was back with a small team of nurses and a gurney, ready to get Nico the help he so desperately needed. Levi stood up, taking a step back as he let Link and the nurses do what the needed to do. Of course, he stayed right by Nico’s side as they rushed him off. 

Everything had been fine one minute and the next, Levi felt as if his world had collapsed around him. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. Before he knew it, Nico was being torn away from him, without an explanation as to why. 

[codenamesazanka]

Fic! A little apology gift for taking so long with the other story lol

the rules of succession

Being an heir meant earning your place.

Five vignettes from the many trials Shigaraki Tomura goes through.

-

Five fun short fics about Shigaraki Tomura fighting/killing/masterminding stuff!

-

Chapter 1: Noumu

(age 16)

He’s getting wrecked.

Tomura scrambles away on hands and feet, limbs moving jerkily, unable to find purchase on the ground. It's utterly shameful. Master's watching, and all Tomura can show him is a panicked, flailing retreat from the beast. Noumu, it's called. The freakish thing just hit him hard, and he just had to fall and knock his head. Now the world's swaying and his body is glitching and there’s a dense-tight pain on his side that’s shredding his lungs. It's hard to breathe.

One of his hands accidentally touches the ground with five fingers, and the resulting hole throws Tomura off balance. His face smashes into concrete.

He was careless at the beginning and now he’s paying for it. He might die here.

He can't die. Not yet.

Tomura claws at his neck, trying to stop the tightness in his throat and the needles on his skin.

A plan, a strategy - He needs to think. Replay the past five minutes, figure out the thing’s moves, find a weakness. Tomura wipes off the blood that’s flowing from his nose; rolls himself over and back onto his feet; force his body to steady, force his vision to work. Keeps his eyes on the Noumu as he puts some distance between them.

Big, ugly, gray gorilla-looking thing, prefers not to chase but let Tomura come to it. Multiple quirks, but they work. Enhanced strength, obviously - one hit had sent him flying, his ribs now absolutely fucking broken. Then the really infuriating features: the ways the body can warp itself - shape the limbs, stretch them out, pull it back in. Thin part of it enough to sever the whole thing off, then form another arm. No easy decay chain.

Master didn’t give him a weapon, so his quirk is still the answer. He’ll have to reach the Noumu’s torso and destroy every inch of it. Tear out the heart and rip it apart if he has to.

How to get near the beast to touch its core? Maybe getting the legs will work, collapse them to bring the body down for him to destroy. It's not particularly fast, but neither is he right now. He's in no condition to dodge those iron punches. Can he immobilize the fucker? No, there's nothing in this warehouse that can restrain the thing. It's empty, just open air and concrete floor. Master really wants him to suffer, huh?

But he can endure. He will prove himself.

Tomura runs back towards the Noumu. Every step makes his chest burst with pain, but he pushes through it. Enough pain, and it’ll be unending, the new, ignorable normal.

The Noumu launches an arm. He times it, then leap out of the way right as it demolishes the spot on the ground he was at a second before. Using the cooldown as an opportunity, he dashes forward, reaching for it’s stomach--

--and has to drop and slide out of the way as the other arm almost strikes him.

These movements are straight-forward punches, relying on momentum and power. No grappling, no changing course, not even sideway swings. No brain indeed. He has to find someway to occupy both its arms, and use that cooldown time as his chance.

Moving backwards and out of range again, Tomura allows himself a quick pause. He feels feverish. His whole being seems to have replace his pulses with spasms. In his mind, a plan forms, and a backup.

Blood is still oozing from his nose, smearing over his mouth and dripping from his chin. He licks his lips, swallows the tangy metal taste. In just a few seconds, if he does it right, he’ll be overwhelmed with the smell of iron, standing in a pool of red, soaked in victory.

Just like always, another win. With that, he charges again.

This time, when Noumu fires a punch, he lets that half-second slip by, then pivots on his foot to turn his body sideways. The beast’s fist flies right past him, the gust of air that it carries making his hair sway. As the fist embeds itself into the ground, Tomura grabs the arm, feeling the skin crack on contact. He sees the Noumu’s other arm shooting towards him from the corner of his eye; he takes a quick breath in, and hurls himself forward, using the muscled bone that was the arm as his grip as he vaults over it. He lands with his feet moving the moment they touched the ground.

Somewhere behind him, a crash tells him that the other arm had hit the ground. By now, Tomura is almost halfway to the Noumu. One decayed and the replacement still forming, one yet to be pulled back - no more arms to obstruct him. He keeps running, mustering a burst of energy to increase speed.

At the last meter, Tomura jumps to tackle the beast. Both hands open, to grab and touch and disintegrate this fucking thing--

Instead, blackness opens up before him and he never hits his mark. Instead, he’s swallowed up by the dark, smoke-like circle. Instead, he lands on concrete ground, again.

The impact is agony, and Tomura finally has to scream.

#

“Very well done, Tomura.” The deep soothing voice of Master calms him down, but only a little. Still, he’s stopped screaming, swallowing down the vocalization of pain and rage, letting it disappear into him. Master’s here, right beside him, allowing his wheelchair to be used for Tomura to prop himself up into sitting position. Allowing Tomura to rest his head on Master’s thigh, despite the blood and sweat ruining the expensive suit.

“I didn’t kill it,” Tomura mumbles. “Stupid Kurogiri and his warp…” He trails off. That was what happened, right? Kurogiri must have done that. He doesn’t actually know.

“That’s fine, that’s fine! You still won.”

“I didn’t kill it.” He says again, sounding like a dumbass. He’s too exhausted to say anything else.

“No, you didn’t.” Amusement in Master’s voice, and then he feels a hand on his head, soft and light, like a blessing. “I needed it alive. Noumu, you see, is a project the Doctor and I are working on. It’s going to be our greatest work yet. But for now, incomplete. We can’t have 2 years of work be destroyed.”

“...It was a trial,” Tomura says. A lab rat, the Noumu. A very strong deformed lab rat, with multiple quirks. It’s only the prototype, and it could’ve won. “You used me to test it.”

“Yes, I did.” Master sounds proud, maybe because Tomura figured it out. “We got excellent data, all thanks to you.”

Good to know all that was worth some fancy numbers and graphs on a paper.

But. Violence and killing made into equations, calculations done without blinking an eye, so simple. A single monster to annihilate something within seconds, without hassle… He can get behind that. That’s what destruction is. Life, the world, death. Simple facts. Still, he’s pissed. Tomura smooshes his face against Master’s leg and scowls, signaling his annoyance. That it rubs more blood onto the trousers is just an unfortunate mishap. Oops.

Master only chuckles, and strokes his hair, fingers combing through the dirty clumps. “This fight served another purpose, Tomura. With how I am now… I need someone to carry on my legacy.”

Tomura jerks his head up. Looking at Master’s face made him feel terrible, but he had to face his teacher. “Not this again! Master, you’re not--”

“Tomura.” One word, just his name, but it holds such graveness that he falls silent. “We must face reality. My time is coming to an end. Not now, but some day. Five, ten years.” Master’s voice softens. “I’ll be with you the entire time, so don’t worry. But I need an heir. A successor.”

Staring up at his Master, Tomura remains silent, trying to make sense of the words. There’s a faint burning sensation in his eyes, and he doesn’t know why. He blinks, and the feeling disappears.

Master smiles.

“You will be the next me.”

oof

[rocket-roach]

SuperWonderBat Mini Exchange

written for the ever so talented, effervescent, and amazingly talented @androbeaurepaire - the trinity gets de-aged, because Bruce just had to track down a witch. Now he’s a baby, and Clark’s at a loss.

It happened to Bruce first. They’d all fallen asleep, arms and legs tangled together underneath fine Egyptian cotton sheets. Clark always woke up first. He’d rub at his eyes, walk to the window, and take in the first bright rays of the day. Diana would wake when Bruce grumbled at the loss of Clark’s warmth at his side.

Usually with a curse.

But that morning, there was no grumpy cussing. There was, in fact, the sound of a baby gearing up for a truly colossal wail. He was at the bed in a flash, catching Diana’s hand that had flown up, ready to strike at the new arrival.

“Where’s Bruce?” She asked, making a face at his hand holding her back. “Seriously? I would’ve stopped before I hit. Is that a baby?”

Clark finally released her hand, and together they pulled the bedsheets back.

A chubby, black haired, blue eyed baby was nearly swallowed by Bruce’s boxers. His tiny fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were red. The Kryptonian sat down, gently picking the baby up. He couldn’t hear the reverberating bass beat of Bruce’s heart. But this baby’s heart beat in a quicker, but similar cadence.

“There’s magic at work here,” Diana murmured as she sat up. She offered her finger to the still wailing baby, who loosened his fist long enough to take it. “He kind of looks like Bruce, doesn’t he?”

“Di,” Clark murmured. “I think this is Bruce.”

The baby stopped wailing.

“Oh, Hera help us.”

His children found it hilarious. There were more Wayne children in the manor now than there had been in a long time. Dick and Jason took turns carrying Bruce around. Tim had brought diapers and pacifiers when he arrived, Cass and Damian had helped teach Duke how to hold the head. Alfred had been lurking in the shadows with a camera, snapping photo after photo. They had a family dinner together, and Clark held Bruce, letting him sleep on his shoulder. Then the time for patrol came, and they all filed out for the evening. Diana held Bruce on her hip as they climbed to the master suite.

“Have you ever thought about it?” She asked as Clark shut the door behind them.

“Thought about what?”

“The three of us, having a baby,” The amazon murmured as she laid on her back, with Bruce resting on her chest. “I know we have Bruce’s kids and your kids and my girls. But, I do want a baby. With the both of you.”

“I would love that, would you, Bruce?” He asked, his index finger lifting Bruce’s little chin up.

Bruce's snot bubble popped.

“I think he loves it, too,” Clark laughed.

Bruce scrunched his face up, his tiny fist swatting Clark’s finger from his chin. Diana sniffed.

“It’s your turn to change his diaper,” She said after a beat. She held Bruce to Clark like an offering, a smirk on her face.

He took Bruce, holding him at arm’s length. Damned with his heightened senses, he made quick work of the ruined diaper and Bruce.

“You’re awfully stinky, you know that?” He cooed as they left the bathroom. “I thought that was something that just happened when you started being a vigilante. Poor Alfred, wh- Hey! Don’t spit up on me!”

Bruce laughed, vomit still on his lips.

“Di, can you take him back? I have to change shirts. He thinks he’s a comedian now, I guess.”

“Whatever,” came from the closet.

“Whatever? Di, are you- Oh, jeez, not you, too.”

A sixteen-year-old Diana Prince stepped out of the closet, a look of pure and utter boredom on her face. She looked at Bruce, then at Clark’s shirt, then rolled her eyes.

“Fine, give the only girl in the relationship the baby. That’s not sexist or anything.”

“I could just put him on the bed?”

“Smart move, breeder. Put the baby who can’t lift his head on a bed with thick sheets. There’s no way he’d suffocate to death.”

Clark blinked, holding the baby sized version of his boyfriend, talking to the 16-year-old teenage angst version of his girlfriend. Who apparently thought of Clark as a ‘breeder.’

“I really have no idea what to do or say here.”

“Of course you don’t,” she scoffed. “This never would have happened if I just stayed on Themyscira.”

Diana walked over to Clark and took Bruce out of his arms. She lifted him by his armpits, glaring at the baby as if he were the worst looking sewer rat in the world. Bruce started crying. Diana started crying louder. Clark went to change his shirt and hopefully find a keg of Budweiser in the closet.

They were still having their crying contest when he came back out. Diana sighed loudly, holding the still crying Bruce in the air.

“He’s annoying me.”

“Did you try calming him down?” Clark could feel a headache forming between his eyes.

She turned Bruce around to face her. “Hello, former billionaire grown adult man who somehow turned into a baby and now won’t stop going to the bathroom in his pants, can you please, with your large vocabulary, tell me what’s wrong?”

Clark placed a hand over his mouth, dragging it down his jaw in frustration at the sarcastic bite of her words.

Bruce kept wailing.

He closed the distance between them, taking Bruce from her. Once Clark was holding him, he settled, blinking away the tears in his eyes.

“I’m sleeping in here tonight. Alone.”

“Did you have this much angst the first time you were a teenager?” Clark asked as he finally reached the doorway.

“Yeah, I did. Then Antiope beat it out of me. Go away.”

Clark shut the door. He walked down towards the guest bedroom he used to sleep in before Bruce declared his love for Clark and Diana. The door opened quietly, and he crossed the carpeted floor to the full-sized bed. He sat on the bed, his back resting against the headboard and Bruce resting against his stomach.

“She’s sixteen now, and you’re still, what, a not even a year old? I haven’t dealt with any magic users lately. I know she hasn’t. So, what did you do?”

“Zah!” Bruce shouted.

Clark jumped.

“Did you just talk?”

“Zah, ah na.”

He turned Bruce around, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

“What is that? A name?”

“Zah,” he mumbled around the fist half shoved into his mouth. “Mm-Zah.”

“Zah,” Clark said. Then, “Do you think Zatanna could help?”

Bruce’s chubby baby cheeks dimpled with the strength of his smile.

“Do you think we could get Miss Teen Angst to join us?”

The baby gurgled.

“Yeah, didn’t think so. Maybe reverse psychology would work on her? It has to, right? I mean, I can’t just go to Themyscira on my own and get Antiope to train the attitude of her again. You’re in no state to go anywhere either. I guess you’re right about Zatanna. She’d handle this the best. John Constantine would probably just try to get baby you to smoke some of his terrible cigarettes,” he paused. “Okay. That was unfair. I’m overreacting. I’m just worried that the longer we wait… I’m worried that the two of you will be stuck like this. Don’t get me wrong; this baby you is adorable. But I miss being in your arms. I miss being sandwiched in between the both of you. I miss our battles together. I miss you, and I think I’m scared.”

The room was quiet after that, only broken by the snores that came from Bruce and Clark minutes later.

The sun rose, and for the first time in a very long time, Clark did not rise with it. In fact, Bruce felt heavier on his chest. He cracked an eye open.

He was eight years old again.

“Aw, come on,” his childlike voice burst out. “Seriously?”

Breakfast was chilly. Alfred had gone to fetch Diana, and she sassed him. Alfred had barged into the room, telling her very loudly that she may have recalled that he was the man who raised Bruce Wayne, and he had no time for entitled demigoddess princesses.

“Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes,” Alfred said through the door.

“Whatever,” Diana said from the other side.

“Do be kind enough to leave that attitude in there,” He called as he went to the guest suite. “Good morning, Mister Kent.”

“Morning, Alfred. Can you help me carry Bruce down? He’s kind of hard for me to hold now.”

“It would be my pleasure,” the butler smiled as he picked up Bruce. “When did your change occur?”

“Last night,” Clark stretched as he got off the bed. “Went to sleep and woke up 24 years younger. What’s for breakfast?”

“Eggs benedict with breakfast sausage, yogurt and strawberries. It would seem that I overestimated the amount of coffee needed this morning.”

They sat in the dining room a few minutes later, Clark digging into his breakfast with a ferocity that would have impressed Dick when he was eight years old. Upstairs, the door to Bruce’s bedroom banged open, and Diana stomped down every step. She sat at the far end of the table, dragging the chair out with a very loud, very long, and very anguished sigh, as if pulling the chair out was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She threw herself into her chair and began eating breakfast with her hands, no utensils.

Alfred’s eyelid started twitching.

“Hi, Diana!” Clark waved down the table.

She paused her disemboweling on the egg long enough to stare at Clark.

“Oh! I forgot to tell y'all,” Clark began around a mouthful of food. “I think Bruce was trying to tell me last night that he thinks Zatanna could help. You wouldn’t happen to know if she was in town, would’ja, Alfred?”

“She is,” Diana muttered. “She’s in town. I called her last night.”

“That’s great!”

“She said she wasn’t aware of any de-aging spells, so I guess I’m stuck at sixteen and Bruce is stuck as a baby until further notice.”

Alfred left the dining room as she broke a sausage link in half.

“Why’re you so mean?”

“I’m not mean, I’m angry.”

“What are you angry about?” Clark asked.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Grow up!” The eight-year-old shouted from his end of the table.

“I’m older than you!” The sixteen-year-old shouted from her end.

“Ah!” The 10-month-old added from his highchair.

“Hello!” Zatanna greeted the magic portal she arrived through. “I figured out a way to turn you all back. I just have to send pictures of you all to Justice League Dark, and then I’ll get the spell. Diana, hanging up on me last night was very rude.”

One picture later, the trinity were adults again. Zatanna patted Bruce on the back, told him he made an adorable baby, and then she was gone.

“I want to apologize,” Diana said, her eyes looking at the floor. “I didn’t… my behavior was horrible.”

“I puked on Clark,” Bruce shrugged. “I think we can all just… forgive whatever just occurred. I was the one who was tracking a witch, so really it’s all my fault.”

Diana and Clark nodded, smiles on their beautiful faces.

“That wasn’t the response I was looking for,” Bruce grumbled as his cheeks heated up.

“You thought it was a good idea to hunt down a witch while you’re dating a guy who has a weakness to magic and a girl who is also susceptible to magic?”

“Shut up, Kent.”

“I think I liked you better as a baby,” Diana said as she slung her arms around her boys waists.

“I think I liked him better as a baby, too,” Clark agreed.