#once the anger and/panic has worn off he is just so so sad

[journey-to-the-attic]

zhao and ik get nightbrought and lucifer goes NUTS on simon istg. he gets so angry that he’d have created a second satan until mammon (somehow) calms him down and reminds him to think rationally.

(he gets all emotional holding ik’s little sweater that he had just finished ironing earlier that day)

without mammon they'd have to straight up sedate him somehow, because losing his adopted teen is awful enough in the jtta timeline - but losing both his husband AND their small daughter in ddvd is a hair's breadth from breaking him entirely, especially given there's literally nothing he can do about it

it'd take a good week for him to fully calm down from having gone absolutely crazy, and after that he's just Sad. when they decide that solomon will have to go get him alone, he gets it, but he is SO pissed off nevertheless. fully tells solomon that if he's not bringing his family back in one piece, he shouldn't bother coming back at all

also i just had a thought (not directly related but)... what if zhao's wedding ring was the ring of light..... the absolute Implications when past lucifer sees it. sure zhao can lie, but i feel like lucifer absolutely wouldn't be fooled by that

[agrymonia]

aw good luck with your blog!! happy to see a new face ^__^ can i request cozmez anne and hajun finding our their s/o has been hiding the fact they have a phantometal/trap reactions? thank you lovie!

notes:

- kanata, nayuta, hajun, anne

- warnings: kanata's part turned out a bit angsty (sorry)

- hope u like it<3 and thank u for the message 🥺

Hiding your phantometal/trap reactions

Kanata

• Your phantometal was a bracelet that you used to take off every time you got home

• But after one busy day, you forgot to take it off, and by the time you remembered, it was already too late

• Due to the nature of his old job Kanata has seen plenty of phantometals in all shapes and forms, it didn't take him more than one quick glance to recognize the object wrapped around your wrist

• "What's that?" You expected anger, but by the tone of his voice you could sense that some part of him was actually hurting

• Even though Kanata really struggles with trusting others, and small inconveniences can waver the trust he has to offer, he wasn't upset at the fact that you possessed a phantometal. Instead, he was worried that you hid it from him. What if he failed to protect you too? He has seen the consequences of phantometals with his own two eyes, he has already lost everything that was dear to him once thanks to them, he can't afford to lose you too. He's upset because he can't even have the chance to protect you if you don't tell him anything about it in the first place.

• Seeing his reaction was enough to make you make up your mind. You don't want to make him worry so you decided to not hide these kind of things from him again

Nayuta

• He found your phantometal by accident while doing housework

• It was a long silver necklace, too cold to the touch

• Just like his brother, Nayuta had the opportunity to be in contact with lots of phantometals before. He could tell what was in his hand even with his eyes closed

• He didn't know why you haven't told him anything about it yet, but he had been in the same exact situation before and understood that you might have your own reasons to keep it hidden

• Still, as your partner, he wants to be able to communicate properly with you. He knows better than anyone else how messy things can get when important things stay hidden

• He wasn't mad but after thinking for a while he decided to confront you about it next time he sees you. He would appreciate if you talked to him about it, if there's a complicated reson behind the fact that you decided to keep it a secret he will encourage you to work it out together

Hajun

• You were good at hiding your trap reactions but you weren't as careful with the remnants of it

• Sometimes you would come back home with an evident lingering uneasiness

• And details like that couldn't escape Hajun's sharp eyes

• Having suffered himself some of the worst consequences of the phantometal, he could tell apart the symptoms of a trap reaction from an usual panic attack

• Once he started to suspect you might be dealing with trap reactions he pulled some strings from behind to confirm that you were participating in small-scale battles with your metal

• He decided to keep that information to himself and bring it up only if it's necessary He would rather wait to see if he can hear it coming from yourself even if he already knows the truth

Anne

• Anne found about your phantometal due to bad timing. Your trap reaction started way earlier than usual and it didn't give you enough time to go back home, unfortunately you were still hanging out with your partner when it abruptly started

• Anne got extremely worried at your sudden distress but when they tried to hold your hands to comfort you, they noticed a small silver ring with an intricate pattern that you've never worn in front of them before

• In that instant, Anne managed to put the pieces together

• First it was surprise and then a bit of sadness mixed with it. They never thought you were dealing with trap reactions. Anne understood it probably was a hard topic for you to talk about and they didn't want to be too intrusive

• But they still decided to have that conversation later when your head feels clearer, for you to know you could rely on them and for them to know how to comfort you

• Right now, they kept their thoughts about the topic to themselves and held your hands gently, waiting for the trap reaction to wear off so they could take you home and take care of you while you recover

[whumperooni]

Belonging

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 3k

Tags/Warnings: incest, possessive behavior, exhibitionism, mentions of being roughly handled by your big bros while daddy was away u.u

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

This is written in response to a big brained, beautiful minded nonny <3 I was going to put it in the answer to the ask but I’m gonna chuck this in ao3 too so I’m making it a separate post.

THANK YOU nonny for this /chef’s kiss of an ask and please feel free to slide into my inbox again because this is primo content right here.

I hope you enjoy your crumbs <3

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

How long has Enji been away from home? Two days? Three days? Four? Certainly not away long enough for you to be in this condition.

Enji frowns despite the sweet kisses you’re peppering all over his face and grabs onto your waist, lifts you up and holds you back so he can look you over. You’re a mess- bruises on your wrists and hickeys mottling your neck so much he can’t see a speck of your natural color. You look tired, worn out and Enji can tell that you’re exhausted, that things have been busy since he’s been away for his team up. He’s not happy about the vivid bruises on your thighs or the fading carpet burn on your knees. He is really not happy about the bandage on your forearm. Enji’s frown deepens and you grow nervous before him- smile twitching anxiously and hands clenching at the fabric of one of Touya’s shirts that you’ve been made to wear. When he puts you down and reaches to grab your arm, you flinch- barely noticeable, so tiny in your movement; something that anyone who wasn’t him would miss. Enji’s eyes narrow, big hand circling over your wrist and he tries to soften his expression when he feels you tense up underneath him. Whatever has happened while he’s been away is not your fault- he knows this. He is furious that you’re so skittish from it, though. Again, not your fault- his sons are sure to blame. “...what happened?” You tense up even more- eyes darting anxiously around the room and smile wavering and fading from your face. He thinks that you might pull away from him whenever he runs his thumb over the bruises on your wrists, but you remain as good and obedient as ever and simply twitch in place where you are standing. “N-Nothing, daddy,” you mumble, lips trying and failing to smile once more. Enji frowns at you and you squirm under your father’s stern gaze- anxiety whipping through you and upset starting to creep all over your face. “It was just...they didn’t mean…” Oh, yes, they did mean. Enji scowls and he sets his irritation toward the bandage on your arm, has to clench his free hand into a fist so he doesn’t hold onto you too tightly. “What is this from?” he demands. “Give me the truth, little one.” Your bottom lip quivers and he can tell that you are torn. You are such a sweet daughter, a sweet sister- you cannot bring yourself to lie to the father that you love so much but you also do not want to get the brothers that you hold dear in trouble either. You are a good girl- you should not be in this position right now. Enji breathes in deep and he lets it out slow, tries to keep a leash on his temper. You are the only thing he truly loves in this world- his little one, his youngest, his perfect little girl. He doesn’t want to see you cry over something your brothers have done. Enji huffs and he pulls you closer to him, picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist on reflex- arms looping around his neck and face burying into his chest as he positions you. There’s a quiet whimper from you whenever he cups your bottom and Enji feels his anger grow even darker when he feels you sniffle against him. “Are you sore there?” he asks, gruff as he totes you off to his bedroom. You don’t answer him for a  moment and even then you can only give him a tiny nod in response- arms clinging tighter to him. Enji lets out a tch and he’s careful as he sits down on the bed, as he sits you in his lap. Your upset is more than clear on your face now- bottom lip wobbling and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Enji frowns as your head lowers and he rubs your back with one big hand, touches your cheek with the other. “Did they spank you?” he asks. Your squirm in his lap- eyes averted and fingers curling into his shirt. Enji waits, patient, until finally your lips tremble and you give a tiny nod. “Touya-nii...he wasn’t...he wasn’t happy that I slept in Natsuo-nii’s bed,” you whisper. “They’ve been…” You trail off, nerves and upset skittering over your expression, and Enji grunts his annoyance as he eyes the bruises littered all over your body. “They’ve been fighting over you. Again.” A wince passes over you and you hang your head as if you are ashamed. There is a sniffle and that is all it takes to further cement Enji’s decision that his sons need a reminder of their place. “I- I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper- eyes wet, lashes wet, voice trembling. “I- I tried to be good so they wouldn’t fight, but- but Touya-nii told Natsuo-nii that I- that I belong to him and it made Natsuo-nii mad and then- then Natsuo-nii was sad after and I tried to cheer him up and then that made Touya-nii mad and then- then they started fighting and then they kept dragging me to their rooms and I couldn’t- I couldn’t make them happy and I’m sorry, daddy! I didn’t mean to make them fight!” Your voice pitches with a whine of a sob and Enji grits his teeth, wraps his arms around tight so he doesn’t let his temper explode. “It’s not your fault, little one,” he tells you- gruff, stern, but soft for him. You sniffle against him, tears wetting the fabric of his shirt, and Enji rubs your back, places a kiss to your hair. “Tell me how your arm got hurt.” You sniffle, again, and it is pathetic, weak. It grinds at Enji’s fury more, but he closes his eyes as you press against him and seek comfort. “I- I fell,” you mumble to him, voice wobbling. “N-Natsuo-nii was holding my hand and- and Touya-nii didn’t like it so he...he grabbed my other one and he yanked me away, but I- I lost my balance and I fell...I hit it against the table and it...cut me…” Your voice gets smaller and more quiet with each word- reluctance to get your brother’s in trouble making it so hard to admit what happened to your father. Enji’s control snaps as he listens and his fire flares from him- something he is quick to put out whenever he hears your panic sounding against his chest. Enji breathes in deep and he buries his face into his daughter’s hair, holds you just a little too tight in his arms. “...okay, little one,” he says once his temper calms down enough that he can talk without growling every word out. “Did anything else happen?” You shake your head against him and it’s a bit too swift of a denial for his taste. He senses that there is more- knows that there must be- but he does not push; he does not want his little one to collapse further into upset. Enji takes another deep breath and lets you go, cups your cheek to smooth away one stray tear. “You’re a mess,” he tells you. “Come- take a shower with me and then we will relax.” You nod- one small, upset sniffle leaving you- and Enji presses his lips to your forehead before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. He strips you down and reduces Touya’s shirt to ash- letting it fall into the waistbasket with a scowl. You do not comment on it, but you hug yourself tight- eyes wide and worried and body littered with bruises. They have been especially rough with you this time and Enji is not pleased. He is careful with you as he washes you- big hands moving as gently as he can manage but still firm as he washes your tangled hair, scrubs down your tired body. You relax as he takes care of you, melt under his warm fingers and let out soft, sweet noises as your father eases the anxious tension that has wound your body up so tight. He kisses you when you tilt your head back to look at him- your eyes half-shut and sleepy, a serene look on your face as he runs his hands over your breasts. It is a chaste kiss- loving and brief- and Enji feels a certain satisfaction whenever you sigh after, lean against his broad chest. “Daddy takes good care of me,” you mumble- words fuzzy with exhaustion and the gooey warmth spreading through your body and making your mind melt from much needed tenderness. “Not like…” You trail off softly, guiltily. Enji knows what you mean, though, and there is pride in him from it- a possessive, vindictive pleasure as his little girl nuzzles against him adoringly. You are daddy’s little girl- you always have been and you always will be. Enji finishes cleaning you and he sets you out of the shower to wrap yourself in a towel and wait for him. Your clumsy attempts to clean him before he does are cute, but he knows that you are tired and does not wish to push you just yet- he has plans and he needs you to rest while you can. He cleans himself and you wait for him obediently- wrapped up in a towel and yawning, propped up on the sink where he had sat you down. Seeing him emerge from the shower is a treat- water steaming from him and dripping down rippling muscles, through chest hair and a thick happy trail. A soft noise leaves you as you watch him dry himself and your cheeks pinken without notice despite heavy eyes and a fuzzy, tired mind that’s begging for sleep. Enji watches your soft thighs rub together and he goes to you, kisses you like you deserve- lovingly, hungrily but not forcefully. He breaks it once a sweet, low moan sounds from you and then he kneels, parts your legs and hooks them over his shoulders before burying his face into the honeyed crux of his little one. The bathroom echoes with your whimpers and mewls as Enji runs his tongue through your folds and burrows his tongue deep inside your cunny. He keeps your hips still whenever they begin to twitch, but he allows you to grab onto his hair, grunts with approval when you arch your back and whine out a needy little, “Daddy, please!” You come whenever he slips a thick finger into you- slick and warm insides fluttering and clamping down onto the digit as you cry out, grip his hair tight. Enji works you through it and he slips a second finger in at the peak of your orgasm, makes it trip into another and has you whimpering, gasping out “daddy, daddy, daddy!” “That’s right, little one,” he praises- voice coming out low and husky as your cunny clenches and cums around his fingers. “Who makes you feel good?” “Daddy does!” Enji hums, pleased by your mewled answer, and he allows you to ride out your pleasure before slipping his fingers from you. You look so sweet as you pant and flush- so worn out and vulnerable; a tender girl flustered by the dulcet, mellowed pleasure that you have been craving for days. You whimper whenever Enji stands- arms reaching for your father and eyes bright with needy tears. He picks you up and he kisses your cheek, cups your bottom whenever you wrap your legs around him and teases your wet, fluttering hole with a stretched out finger as he totes you off to the living room. The boys are there- arguing as always, in each other’s faces with heated, hissed words and glaring eyes- and they only look up when Enji slips a finger inside your cunny and coaxes a moan from you. Their reaction is immediate- heads snapping up and shock halting their anger only to multiple it. Touya’s lips pull back into snarl and Natsuo’s eyes widen, narrow as he watches your hips grind down against Enji’s finger. Enji glares them down as he eases another finger into your eager cunny, kisses your cheek when you whimper and cling to him even tighter. “Little one,” he asks, voice gruff but calm even as he glowers down at the furious brats that he calls sons, “who made you feel good earlier?” “Daddy did,” you mewl out- sweet and sleepy and showing the pleasure that is slowly wrecking your tired body. Enji hums and he spreads another finger to smooth over your clit, makes you moan softly and try to grind your hips against him. A growl rips from Touya and your lashes flutter from it, a tiny noise of worry leaves you and is instantly forgotten when Enji curls his thick fingers inside of your honeyed insides and causes your mind to blank from pleasure. “And who is making you feel good now?” Enji demands- hard and nearly imperious as you tremble and cling tighter to him. “D-Daddy is!” “Do you want your brothers to fuck you, little one?” Enji asks, narrowing his eyes in challenge when Touya takes a step toward him. A hiccup of a sob leaves you and you shake your head, bury your face against him with a whimper. Enji’s lips twitch with the hint of a smirk and he pushes you to answer with, “And why is that?” Another sob and you shake as guilt, frustration, repressed anger and upset at your brothers twine through you along with the honeyed, warm pleasure that your father is giving you. You sniffle- hips rocking against thick fingers and your syrupy, sticky juices leaking from you and coating your father’s hand. “Because- because,” you whimper as your heart pounds and your cunny throbs with need. “Because they’re- they’re mean! I don’t want- I don’t-” Guilt causes you to whine against your father and Enji hums as he teases a third finger against your entrance, looks over his sons. Touya is furious- hands clenched into tight fists and shaking with anger that’s close to exploding out. Natsuo, at least, has the decency to look guilty, ashamed. He ducks his head and looks away as Enji spreads your little cunny wider and makes you cry out as he slowly stuffs your squishy, warm insides full even more. “Who do you want then?” Enji asks- voice low and gruff. He grunts as your insides spasm around his fingers and his cock flexes against himself- hard and big and so ready to fill his sweet baby girl. “Who do you want to fuck you, little one?” You choke on a sob- the questions overwhelming your tired mind and your body racing toward another orgasm. You arch against him, head tilting back with a cry whenever he places a hot kiss to your neck. You can’t help the way you pant and shake against him and you can’t help your answer either, the way you moan out a loud, needy, truthful- “Daddy! Want- I want Daddy!” You cry a little after from guilt and need and the pleasure that is making your mind melt and your head spin. Enji lets out a growl of satisfaction and he slips his fingers from you- soothing you with a kiss whenever you let out a panicked whine. Enji slides you lower down his waist and presses the head of his cock against your fluttering hole, looks at his sons with challenge and superiority in his eyes, the set of his lips. “And who do you belong to?” Enji asks- voice low and demanding, making a desperate shiver crawl up your spine. You whimper and you lift your head from him, turn it so you can look at your brothers. There is no fear in your gaze- not like how there was over these past few days whenever they yanked you to and fro between them- and you shudder against your father- eyes heavy and cheeks flushed, body soft and pretty and clinging to him with pressing, loving adoration and need. “Daddy,” you mewl out sweet as honey. “I belong to daddy.” “Good girl,” Enji murmurs to you, sliding his cock into your eager cunny. “My good girl.” Choked anger tears itself from Touya and he snaps out a “fuck you” to Enji before stomping out of the room- singing the doorframe whenever he slams his hand against it in fury. Natsuo is frozen in place- eyes wide as he watches you come along your father’s cock- and he flushes from frustration, from anger whenever he finds himself hardening at the sight of Enji’s dick stretching your pussy and making your glistening folds part as he slides into you slowly. He clenches his fists whenever your moan and then he stomps out of the room- angry and needy as your chanted mewls of “daddy, daddy, daddy!” sound behind him. Enji smirks as his sons flee in a temper tantrum, smiles as he kisses your cheek and rocks his hips up to make you moan and go limp against him in pleasure. You nuzzle against him with a needy, tired whine and Enji hums his satisfaction at that, turns to carry you back to his room and his bed. “Shh, little one,” Enji tells you. “Daddy will take care of you.” A whimper leaves you and you tremble before giving a weak nod against him, clench around his cock even as he slips out of you to lay you out on his bed. “Love you, daddy,” you slur out through your pleasure and exhaustion, the overwhelmed feeling making your mind melt. “Love you so much.” Enji braces himself over you and he kisses your forehead, soaks in the soft mewl that sounds from you as he sinks his cock back into your honeyed insides. “I love you too, little one,” he tells you. “My little one.” You nod, panting and dizzy, and Enji kisses you, starts to fuck you slowly. You’re his. You will always belong to your daddy.

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 15

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: mentions of panic attack, mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Would you like to explain to me why you’re here?”

“I think you already know why I’m here.”

Your therapist eyed you annoyingly at the bitter response. After your little episode during sex, Bucky had finally put his foot down. He realized you clearly weren’t getting anywhere on your own and he wasn’t the most equipped to give you the care you needed, so he set up a therapy appointment for you. 

The therapist was under the same practice as Bucky’s own but he made it very clear you two couldn’t see the same doctor. You’d never admit it, but you were thankful for that. You couldn’t imagine sitting across from the woman who Bucky also dumped his trauma onto. 

So, that was how, after some intense back and forth with Bucky, you ended up in front of a therapist you couldn’t remember the name of. It was pathetic, really, but in your defiance, you hadn’t learned her name. As if that somehow kept you disconnected from the whole process. At best, you knew her name started with a G and that’s all you were going to go off of.

“Sure,” Dr. G shrugged and glanced at your file. “I know what happened to you but why are you here? What made you want to see someone?”

You sighed. “It was just time.”

“Why?”

You slammed your hand on the side of the couch in frustration. It had been this weird back and forth for the last ten minutes. Honestly, you were hoping you could just drain the time but this doctor wasn’t giving either of you the luxury.

“What would you like me to say, huh?” You spat out, a new kind of anger springing within you. The dam wall had broken. “Do you want to hear about how for almost my entire life I haven’t been able to escape the nightmares of my soulmate? Or about how I get one little moment of peace with him and then it all goes to absolute shit? Because that’s just how the cookie fucking crumbles, isn’t it?” You bit your lip, holding back from the sob rising in your burning throat. But you certainly weren’t done. You forced on, “Maybe you’d like to listen to me ramble on about how my own goddamn apartment feels like a prison. Or how I can’t even have sex with my soulmate because everything, every little fucking thing, reminds me of that night. And it’s not just enough to remember it, I guess. Huge shoutout to whatever kind of soulmate bond this is.” You paused. “I was barely gone for two days and somehow it hurt me, it damaged me. But, really, it shouldn’t have, right? It was nothing compared to-,” Him. His experiences. Your words got stuck as you gasped, letting the sadness roll over you. The tears were flowing freely now. 

You just didn’t understand. You didn’t understand your reaction to any of this. You were barely touched, never even experimented on yet you couldn’t seem to actually escape it. You were flinching at touches. Backing out of sex. Not to mention the images of Bucky. Real images, no longer just dreams, but almost like your memories came into play. You were forced to be stuck in a tragic playback of that time. Over and over, every night, and you were to move on? Yet how does all of this come about from being gone for a few hours? You felt there was maybe more to this all and anxiety gnawed at you about it.

Your therapist sighed and placed your file on her side table. She leaned forward, hands clasped together. “Trauma is trauma, no matter how small or insignificant your brain thinks it is.” She passed you a tissue which you accepted.

You dabbed your eyes. “It’s just not fair,” you mumbled. “I finally found him and now I fear I’m ruining it.”

“You aren’t ruining it,” the therapist insisted. “You went through something catastrophic and your mind is reacting. It’s beyond justified. Don’t you think he, out of everyone else in this world, understands that?”

You gave a pathetic shrug knowing she’s completely correct. But that wasn’t how this was supposed to work. You should’ve been his rock, right? 

“Well,” Dr. G sighed as she leaned back in her seat, “I think he understands and you have no reason to beat yourself up over it. You aren’t responsible for any of it. You’re just responsible for recovering and, sorry to say, that isn’t exactly done overnight.”

You scoffed. “Well, where does it begin?”

“Talking,” she said. “Brainstorming. Shooting the shit. Whatever you want to call it, just find a way to let it out of here.” Dr. G motioned towards her heart. You felt your own pounding.

***

Bucky was right where you had left him sitting in one of the chairs in the corner of the waiting room. He didn’t notice you at first as he was engrossed in some technology magazine. You couldn’t help but notice how interested yet relaxed he was. He really did have a bit of a nerdy side to him. 

“What’s so fascinating?” You asked, taking a seat next to him. He jumped a little at your sudden appearance. You held back a chuckle, finding it quite amusing you could surprise the ex-assassin.

Bucky looked back at the magazine and shrugged. “Some new tiny cameras this company in Europe developed. Smaller than your pinky yet has the quality of a full-fledged camera, or so they claim.”

You smiled at his light skepticism. For a man that was easily wowed by the world he sure was hesitant to indulge in it - hence the flip phone he still kept insisted on. 

With a sigh, Bucky closed the magazine and placed it back on the table. He looked towards you again and asked, “How did it go?”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to talk about it, but that also sort of beat the purpose of getting guidance from a therapist. She emphasized that communication was a major key - for both of you. You didn’t want to dismiss that advice right away but you also didn’t exactly want to make your soulmate more concerned than he already was. He had insisted on coming with you to this appointment despite being confined to the waiting room. Bucky didn’t mind, clearly overshadowed by the worry showcased on his face.

“I have to tell you a few things if you’d like to accompany me back home.”

“Home?” He frowned. “Home as in-,”

You shook your head. “My apartment.”

Wordlessly, Bucky stood and outstretched his hand towards you. You mustered up a smile the best you could, letting him guide you out of the building and onto the city sidewalk. 

For as many concerns as you had running through you, you were finding some new sense of pride walking down the street with Bucky. Your soulmate. You had felt something there beyond it all. 

How many times had you walked these streets simply letting your gaze wander about hoping to just spot him? And then you didn’t even find him in the most conventional way. 

But you had to remind yourself of that hopeful gazing you partook in for many weeks. All you had to go off of was his actions. His violent, albeit unwilling, actions. And yet, in all that, you still wanted to meet him. Wanted to hear his voice and maybe get a peek into what he may be like. You certainly got way more than you had bargained for. And you wanted to keep it. Maybe you had been forgetting that in your worries of ruining it. These worries stemmed from wanting. You just had to remind yourself. 

You two had been lost in your own worlds. You were quite surprised by how quickly you had arrived at your apartment building. Everything outside of it was the same like the world had just stood still. You dropped Bucky’s hand and began fumbling for your keys. He kept a protective arm around your waist, trying to offer some comfort for the daunting task. 

After a shaky moment, you led him inside and up the stairs where your apartment door sat, seemingly untouched. You knew that wasn’t exactly the case. Agents had been in and out of your apartment upon your disappearance, Bucky had explained, but they must’ve been stealthy ones. It looked like every other door. 

And, really, that’s all it was, you told yourself. It’s just a door. It’s a first step, your therapist had claimed, but it was also just a door. You had wrestled with yourself over this concept for a while now and here it was in front of you. 

“You don’t have to do this.” Bucky’s voice broke your concentration. “You’re more than welcome at the compound. No one would blame you if you - you wanted to stay.”

“I know,” you sighed. “Thank you but I don’t want to wallow in it.”

Bucky didn’t say anything more and just nodded his head once in understanding. Taking a deep breath, you unlocked the door and flung it open.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. Part of you was ready to be ambushed by Hydra men. Another part of you thought the place would be a wasteland. But neither of those was the case. It was just...normal. It looked exactly how you remember leaving it in all its worn-down glory. Relief washed over you. 

You walked in as you had a million times before and threw your bag on the couch. You headed straight for the kitchen, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge. Bucky didn’t comment on anything and just took a seat on your couch, waiting.

Making your back to the couch, you offered Bucky water but he declined. Amazingly, you floated around the apartment with no worries. It felt like you never left while also felt like you were reclaiming. 

You took a seat next to Bucky, keeping some space between your bodies.

“What’s on your mind, doll?” Bucky suddenly asked. You glanced back at him nervously. If he was at all anxious, he sure wasn’t showing it. Damn that assassin mentality.

“That nightmares have come back,” you admitted. The words landed like a million little bombs around the apartment. Bucky leaned back on the couch, his eyes wide with concern. 

“What?” It was all he seemed able to manage to say. 

You shifted on the couch uncomfortably, mentally working up the courage to continue on. “It all started back up after that… that night,” you explained. “I-I was suddenly seeing you fighting those men. I was seeing pretty much into your brain, feeling all that anger and relentless rage.” You paused. “I couldn’t believe it, really. I hadn’t had a single nightmare ever since we got together and now...it’s like a million steps back and I don’t know how to fix it. The doctor suggested talking and that’s what I want, Buck. You can’t turn away. Not right now.”

Bucky wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead taking strong interest in picking at your couch cushion. He seemed quite uncomfortable, which was beyond understandable, but he also had to have heard your pleas. 

“Y-You see all that?” He finally asked, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Just on a playback loop? Despite us being connected, really connected.”

You didn’t know what to do besides nod in confirmation. Bucky let out a deep sigh.

“And this, on top of everything else, hasn’t been helping you to recover, has it?”

You shook your head. Bucky now looked like he wanted to put his fist through your door. Tears welled in his eyes. 

“Of course not,” Bucky mumbled. “I-I thought it was supposed to get better.”

“Me too,” you admitted. “I didn’t tell the therapist this but I… Well, I fear there’s something faulty with this bond.”

The thought had initially popped in your head out of nowhere. One night you were half-awake, already witnessing the shine of Bucky’s arm as his hand contracted around the goon’s throat, when you began trying to think about the good memories. The reader Bucky you got to see. How lovely that was to bring up. How the conversation that followed was refreshing, fun. You wouldn’t be able to bring anything like that up again because you lost them. It took a bit for your theory to prove certain but once it was, you realized, you were stuck. 

But you also hadn’t exactly wanted to act on this theory, figuring this could be handled on your own. Date night proved wrong. 

Bucky eyed you, curiously. “What do you mean?”

“It’s very challenging to recover from something when it’s the only thing you’re reminded of, right? Well, that’s the case, nightly. Despite how serious we are in this relationship, it’s cutting through, even though it seemed like in the beginning…” Your words trailed, a bit unsure. You changed the focus. “The memories and thoughts are still transmitted disturbing reminders. I can talk about it until I’m blue in the face, but I just don’t think that’s all there is to it. The bond isn’t letting me move on regardless of our circumstances. Everything you saw...”

Your soulmate nodded in his attempt to understand where this was going. You even had to admit, it was sounding a bit bizarre. You did think it was just trauma and in many ways, it is. It all comes back to the trauma derived from the situation but to have to relive it through your soulmate’s eyes. To have to see him personally killing someone was just… It was a whole new level of memories. You were personally attached to them. You weren’t just living through it in some fucked up metaphorical way - you actually had lived it. Besides - it shouldn’t be this way.

“You think we need to see someone about it,” Bucky concluded.

Hesitantly, you confirmed his suspicions. “Are there really doctors who study it? I've heard rumors but I’ve never seen someone.” Thinking of it now, you never knew why you didn’t. Probably because those who studied soulmate bonds were truly myths. There wasn’t exactly anything tangible to study. Who was going to waste their time?

Bucky shrugged. “I think I may know someone.”

[thechangeling]

Tell me a story

Ty doesn't believe in fate.

A shout out to @ilikebooks8 for convincing me to make a fanfic about autistic!Eleanor Blackthorn. Autism is genetic so it makes sense for Ty to have autistic ancestors. If you are autistic I guarentee you have someone in your family who is also autistic they just haven't been diagnosed yet. For me, I've got my dad.

Cw: mentions of ableism, abuse and the death of a minor character. Very anti Andrew Blackthorn.

"Tell me a story," Tiberius' asked, in that mature, matter- of-fact way he spoke. Ty was only eight but already he sounded like a boy twice his age in terms of his vocabulary and the way he spoke.

Although he still had the voice of a child which was rather amusing. Eleanor turned to face her son with a groan as she felt searing pain shoot through her bones. She had been laying down all day due to feeling extremely unwell. The noises and lights of the outside world were especially brutal, but she had gotten used to it overtime. She had learned to cope. To smile and nod and make eye contact. To control her movements and still her hands and laugh at their jokes.

Eleanor played the part of the proper shadowhunter and the dutiful wife, the attentive mother. It didn't matter that it had changed her. Had completely turned her into a different person, someone harsher and colder. Someone who was so quick to anger and venomous hatred.

Someone who only knew how to be in pain.

She always tried to not let that side of her show to her children. They didn't deserve it. But the past few weeks in particular had been brutal. Her body felt broken and it was becoming harder and harder to put up that facade.

She faced Ty with the best fake smile she could muster. "Which story would you like to hear?" He climbed up on the bed beside her and sat down in an odd twisted position where his legs were in a W position. He began tapping his hands on his knees as he appeared to contemplate his choices.

Eleanor could remember a time when she was younger when she used to do that. Before her parents had stopped her. She knew she should really tell Tiberius off to discourage him from doing these things in public. He was so blatent and open in a way that frightened and almost angered her. There was no telling what kind of reaction The Clave might have.

She didnt want him to end up with the dregs, or worse.

"I don't know," Ty said finally scrunching up his eyebrows. "I can't think of one right now. Could you make one up?" Eleanor smiled in spite of herself. She had always loved making up stories ever since she was a kid. She had always been a creative person, painting and drawing as often as she could. Shadowhunters didn't really appreciate a creative streak.

Eleanor nodded. "Ok sure, let's see." She took a breath, trying to ignore the agony spreading through her back and shoulders. "Once upon a time there was a prince who was trapped in a tower that was guarded by an evil ogar. The prince had been rumored to have special powers so he was forced by his parents to stay locked away in the tower forever to keep him safe. He wasnt allowed to make friends with any other children so he grew up alone. Teaching himself how to read and write and playing games to amuse himself."

Ty rolled his eyes. "Isn't that rather cliche? The whole prince trapped in a tower story? I've definitely heard that before."

Eleanor laughed. "Where did you hear the word cliche Tiberius?" Ty shrugged, not seeing the amusement in the situation.

"It was in a book. Can you keep going?" He whined impatiently. "I wanna hear the rest."

Eleanor sighed, shaking her head good naturedly. "Alright then. So the prince was trapped for a very long time. Then one day a mysterious adventurer came exploring nearby the tower."

"Can it be a detective?" Ty interrupted, bouncing up and down. He had been obsessed with Clue lately.

"Alright sure, it was a detective. He was searching the answers to a murder mystery. The murder of a young women."  Ty instantly looked interested. Perhaps murder was not the best subject for a story being told to an eight year old, but Ty was a shadowhunter. They were trained to deal with blood and death.

"His was searching for information and came across the tower," she continued. So he decided to investigate. He snuck passed the ogar and into the tower, where he was ambushed by the prince!"

Ty gasped excitedly, wriggling in place. "What happened next? Did they fight?"

Eleanor opened her mouth to continue, but then the bedroom door flew open, startling them both.

It was Andrew. Instantly Ty shrunk himself down, hunching his shoulders. Eleanor knew that Ty didn't always get along with his father but she knew Andrew still loved him deep down. He glared at them both.

"Ty your mother is meant to be resting," he said pointedly.

Eleanor shook her head. "Oh no it's alright. He wasn't bothering me." Andrew didn't seem to hear her.

"Tiberius let's go," he said harshly. Ty hesitated for a moment, looking up at her.

"But I wanna hear the rest of the story!" He protested. "I wanna know what happens to the prince!" Eleanor sighed solemnly. She didn't want to disappoint Ty, but she was feeling pretty worn out.

"Another time baby," she assured him. "I promise."

But unfortunately she never got the chance. She never got the chance because little did they know, Eleanor Blackthorn had cancer. Something that silent brothers couldn't cure. Something that shadowhunters were powerless against.

"What are you thinking about ?" Kit murmered from his spot curled up against Ty's chest. His breath tickled Ty's chin.

Ty paused, not quite sure how to answer. They were lying on the roof of the LA institute again. It was their special spot. Kit had suggested a night of star gazing for a date since the weather was nice.

Things has been a little weird between them lately. Kit had been pretending that everything was fine and he was unfazed, but Ty could tell that something was bothering him. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

At Magnus and Alec's anniversary party, Jace made a joke about how Kit and Ty would probably be the next ones to get married and Ty immediately went into a blind panic. He completely froze up at the mention of marriage. At the mention of him getting married. His body instantly went into a complete overload almost as if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

He didn't take the time to think about any of it. He just snapped and yelled that he wasn't getting married. That he wasn't ever getting married. Ty wasnt even sure where it came from. Kit was pretending like it wasnt a big deal but Ty knew he was hurting. He could tell.

Ty traced a pattern across Kit's arm. "Honestly it was nothing," he assured him. "I just-." Ty stared at Kit, studying his face. The curve of his lips, the adorable blush of his cheeks and the tiny beauty mark under his eye that Ty loved to fixate on. Everything ached, but it was a good kind of ache.

Ty loved him.

"I just want to stay like this forever," he murmered. "Here with you, where I feel safe and warm. And loved." Ty nuzzled his nose against Kit's. "I want to be with you forever."

Kit smiled distantly before breaking into a slight frown. "Then why don't you wanna marry me?" He asked sadly. And Ty could instantly hear the old ghosts of self loathing and insecurity still haunting Kit's thoughts.

Ty sighed. "It has nothing to do with you I promise. I just really don't want to get married and I'm not even fully certain of why exactly."

Kit stroked his cheek slowly. "Is it the idea of a big wedding? Because we don't have to do that you know. We can totally just skip it," he said assuredly.

Ty shook his head. "That's part of it but it isn't the only reason." He paused to contemplate what exactly it was that was making him feel this way, feel so afraid.

Strangely enough, Ty kept coming back to his mother. His mother who was always a little peculiar in private. Who always seemed sad and exhausted even before the silent brothers diagnosed her. Who was constantly going along with whatever her husband wanted for whatever reason. Because she assumed he knew what he was doing? Because she didn't want to make waves in a society so rigid and obsessed with conformity?

Ty had been considering it more and more lately.

He sat up, displacing Kit from where he was resting. "I think my mother was like me," Ty admitted in a shakey voice. "I think she was autistic and that's why she ended up in the situations she did."

"Ok?" Kit looked confused. "But that still doesn't explain-."

Ty interrupted him. "She was trying so hard to fit in and do the right thing and she would just let him control her. She kept compromising for him because she thought that's what she was supposed to do and also because despite it all I think she really loved him! And it made her so stupid!" Ty shouted.

"I just don't want to become trapped like that," he confessed.

Kit was silent for a moment, just staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Ok, but Ty you realize that I'm not your dad right? Like I would never try and control you or make you into something you're not. I'm not trying to own you, I'm trying to love you!" He argued. "Ty, marriage isnt supposed to trap you. It's about making our relationship into an Offical legal thing that everyone's forced to acknowledge and accept."

Kit took Ty's hand in his. "It's about making each other family."

Ty looked away. He couldn't meet Kit's eyes when he was staring at him looking so hopeful and desperate. It did strange things to Ty's insides. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching up his face along with his fists for a moment before letting go.

"I just don't want to let someone have power over me in that way," he explained. Kit sighed, then smiled softly before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Ty's. Ty let out a little moan as he let the tension release from his body with a sigh. Kit placed his hand over Ty's heart.

"But don't you get it Ty?" He asked softly. "You already have, whether you meant to or not. I'm in your system sweetheart, in your blood just like you're in mine." Ty felt him smile. "Like we were made for each other. Like we've spent our entire lives waiting for each other."

Ty pulled away from him. "No I don't believe that," he stated firmly. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or soulmates. I think it's an overt  romanticization of life and the human condition which can have disastrous consequences. It leads people to believe that they are somehow incomplete without a romantic partner which is incredibly problematic." Ty realized he was probably going on a bit of a tangent as he was known to do. But he couldn't be bothered to care.

Kit pouted a little. "Yeah I get that. But I don't know. I like to romanticize things in life. After everything that I've been through, I guess it just makes things feel better you know?" Kit glanced at him hopefully."I don't care if you don't believe in any of those things. I do. And despite what you might believe, you aren't always right about everything," Kit said pointedly.

Ty scowled at him. Kit was undeterred. "And I get that you're coming at this from a scary trauma place. I understand that. I have those too. But you don't have to be afraid of me," he pleaded.

Ty couldn't resist reaching out and touching him, pushing a curly lock of hair behind his ear. "Can I maybe think about it?" Kit smiled and snuggled up against Ty's chest again. "Of course," he murmered. Ty leaned back and resumed his earlier position, staring up at the sky.

He nuzzled his face against Kit's hair. "I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore," said Ty.

Kit snorted, turning to face Ty. "I'm never mad at you love. It's pretty much impossible." Ty grinned and leaned forward to kiss him slowly, savoring the feeling of Kit's lips against his.

Kit broke off and kissed Ty's cheek, then his orbital bone. Ty giggled and closed his eyes which prompted Kit to place a kiss on each of his eyelids.

"I love every inch of you," Kit whispered. Ty couldn't speak. He was too overwhelmed. He just wrapped his arms around Kit even tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They lay in peaceful silence for several moments before Kit spoke.

"Tell me a story."

In case you missed it, the story Eleanor was telling Ty is the story of kitty in Lady Midnight basically. Also. Not me projecting my fear of marriage onto my comfort character! 😂

Tag list: (lmk if you wanna be added/removed) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @heloisacosta23 @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper

[handibrain]

Hello Madness Combat community i have brought you some 2BHank angst for you :)

Title: I need a doctor

Type: lyric fic(I need a doctor by Jack Stauber)

Genre: hurt to comfort then back to hurt

Warnings: death mention, major character death, injuries, past abuse mention(not from Doc or Hank to each other)

Hank had once again gone on another raid, and once again got injured. It wasn’t unusual for him by any means, but this time it wasn’t something he could patch up himself. Unfortunately he also didn’t leave any of the doctors alive so he couldn’t even attempt to get help from them. He would doubt they would even agree, but that’s not the point.

All he was left to do was bleed out on the floor until he died from blood loss, starvation or dehydration, or if backup was sent and he was killed. To the agency, this was great. To him, this was one of the worst ways to go.

I need a doctor, oh!

He heard footsteps approach, not ones like a lone agent though. He was tired too, he wouldn’t fight even if it was one.

“Well look at that, Number One Killer/criminal of Nevada on the brink of death, eh?” The voice said. It was scratchy and worn, and it had sounded muffled, like it was from behind a mask. He heard the person say something else, but couldn’t make it out. He felt himself get picked up before he went unconscious from the blood loss.

I’m not a doctor but I think I might be able to help.

And well, it had been a few months since that last encounter and they had formed a bond. Hank would raid agency buildings for supplies, and Doc would patch him up the best he could.

Something was eating away at Doc though, about how Hank acted towards physical contact even if it was meant to be caring. He has seen Hank fight and didn’t take much mind to the contact during then, but whenever Doc made any contact with Hank they would either stiffen up, flinch away, or after a bit get overstimulated and have to go to another room for a bit before continuing what they were doing before.

“Why do you act that way when I touch you?” Doc asked when Hank once again flinched when he checked Hank’s ribs to double check none were broken.

It’s not a simple symptom, no.

“Nothing.” Hank replied, gruffly. Doc could tell there was dread behind it, like he was afraid to answer the question.

“Did.. Did someone hurt you?” Doc asked, which caused a very slight but noticeable reaction from Hank, a negative one at that. Doc both hated and enjoyed how Hank didn’t mistake that question as the everyday ‘agent and/or killer clown’ someone hurting him.

My diagnosis is that no one has been treating you well.

Doc took a steady deep breath before continuing.

“Hank, I want you to know that I am always open if you need to talk. I know I act like I don’t care, but really I do. Remember that I'm here for you, ok?” Doc said, wrapping up his examination and cleaning up the last few minor wounds on Hank. There was no response from Hank, which Doc expected.

So what do you prescribe?

As Hank went to leave, he stopped before he left the office infirmary.

Love’s the only medicine.

“Doc, thank you.” He said, an unusual calmness on his face underneath the wrappings and goggles. He said something else at the end, to which Doc heard but couldn’t make out.

Doc sighed and smiled.

Is this a lie?

“No problem, Hank. Also, what did you say at the end?” Doc asked.

“I..,” Hank took a shaky breath before continuing,”I love you, Doc.”

“I love you too, idiot.” Doc said, a wide smile on his face now.

No! Take three of these a da-ay!

“Alright. Just don’t get yourself killed, ok? And if you need any medications you know where they are.” Doc chuckled, covering half of his now blush red face with his hand and waving Hank off with the other, which got a laugh out of Hank.

“Thanks, and I’ll try!” Hank said, before walking out the door and probably off to another raid in a couple of hours.

Jebus, that smile made Hank’s heart flutter. He kept recalling that memory, he wished he had the guts to confess earlier. Past experiences made it hard for him, even if he knew he could trust Doc. He was glad he did nonetheless.

Oh, I think I’m cured.

Finally, he felt the same happiness he did before all of his madness, and he was glad for that. He went out to do a small raid to celebrate, not noticing the AAHW vehicles a distance away.

Cool, are you alright on your own?

When he got back, he wasn’t greeted with the usual shout of acknowledgment from Doc. This instantly made him worry and panic.

‘What happened?’ He thought, quickly making their way to Doc’s office.

No, I’m not sure.

As they entered Doc’s office he saw his dead body on the floor, with most of the desk belongings strewn across the floor as well. His laptop sat shattered as well, the screen just holding together enough to show one message still left in the typing bar.

“Hank, I need help ge” it read, before being cut off. He could only assume he ran out of time to write for backup before the agents entered his office.

Okay..

Hank dropped to his knees, checking for a heartbeat or breathing. Neither of which were found. Grief, anger, and deep sadness wracked through his body and he let out broken sobs. The first time he felt this way since his last relationship, feeling worse that this was probably the first and last person to truly care about them.

Oh! I think I’m sick again…

Author's note:

I usually look for criticism on my writing works but for this one I'm not just because I lost steam halfway through editing but decided it was good enough with where I left it. I definitely could do multiple things to fix it and flesh it out though so I may rewrite it in the coming months. By all means feel free to use this as a baseline for your own story though!(with credit of course) I would love to see what you come up with :)

[torilovestowrite]

Dabi x Reader; Try Again pt. 8

Synopsis: Years ago, (Y/n) was left by her villain boyfriend, Dabi after discovering an unexpected news. Ever since then, she never had a lover— focusing on her only son, Yuta. Later on, she meets Todoroki Touya— a new co-worker who seem to be persistent towards winning her heart and attention.

Ship: Dabi x Fem! Reader

❗❗❗Content Warning: Mentions of Abortion, Unplanned Pregnancy, Manga spoilers, Dabi is a Todoroki theory

🖤 » Chapter Navigation « 🖤

"Yuta L/n, you're not going out!" Y/n strictly reprimanded as she tried to keep her son still from his position, lying on bed with a cold towel on his forehead.

It was during a Wednesday when Yuta, y/n's son, had a fever that reached over 41 degrees. Y/n felt threatened about this because her son has never reached this temperature. It's too high— and he also stated something about his body feeling heavy. What could be happening?

"B-but... we're about to watch a movie in school today! I don't want to miss it!" Yuta began bawling his eyes out while Y/n sighed at his dramatic tone. Does it really have to be like this? Yuta has to be emotional and sensitive every time he gets sick? This only reminds her of him— the way he would caress her soft hands every time she would tend his wounds every after a tiring day— the man he used to love, Dabi, would appear to be more gentle and affectionate every time he gets worn out... or ill.

"We're going to watch a movie while you take a rest here at home, okay?" Y/n gently tapped her son's side in an attempt to make him close his eyes and sleep. "For now, take a rest. Or else, it would take longer before you could go outside."

Immediately, Yuta turned his back from his mother in an attempt to be more comfortable; and to have a good sleep. Y/n smiled at his actions. Good thing, her son has always been considerate on her hardwork and the way she disciplines him.

It wasn't too long until she heard a notification from her phone— a message coming from Touya.

touya ❣ : good morning y/n. how's ur pretty face doing?

It's been four months since y/n realized her feelings for Touya. Both of them started dating two months ago and so far, he has been understanding towards her obligations as a mother. Most of their dates included Yuta and there are times when Touya would volunteer to watch over him while she's away during her day shifts. Y/n could never ask for anything— Touya was doing his job greatly; as a boyfriend and as a paternal figure to Yuta.

you : yeah, i'm all good babe. thanks for asking. but yuta's sick rn... i dont really have anyone to take care of him and i need to go for my day shift.

touya ❣ : you want me to go for it? i mean, i only work during nights anyways

Y/n's smile lit up as she read his message. Finally! She thought. She could go to work!

you: sure thing babe 💗✨

Few more minutes, when Yuta has finally travelled to dreamland, Y/n left the house, wearing her thick f/c coat with her hair styled to become more neat-looking. Another day for work, she thought.

It's been two hours since Touya arrived in Y/n's home. Using the spare key under her house's doormat, he decided to enter her house that was silent when he went inside. Until he heard a child's high-pitched scream coming from Yuta's bedroom. His instinct caused him to immediately run towards this direction; but what he saw caused a heavy sensation in his chest. Those familiar blue flames that was once his signature— as Dabi; the heartless villain who claimed 30 innocent lives.

"U-Uncle T-Touya!" Yuta cried in panic while his right hand was burning with blue and heated fire. "W-What should I do?! M-my—"

"Breathe." Touya immediately replied as he kneeled next to him, rubbing his back with his huge and rough hands. "You have to control your breathing and your emotions. You have to control it because the more you panic, the more it will get stronger."

Yuta closed his eyes and focused in calming himself down— taking deep breaths and thinking about things that he liked in life— ice cream, Y/n, Uncle Touya, pro-heroes... all the things that makes him happy. Slowly, the fire became smaller and smaller— until nothing appeared on his hands.

"I-It's gone! The blue flames!" Yuta exclaimed as a grin crept on his face. "Did you see that awesome thing on my hand, Uncle Touya?! That must be my quirk, right?"

"Yes, it's an awesome quirk that you have." Touya smiled sadly as he stared at the young and naive child— as if he was seeing his past self; the pure child who was corrupted by his father's evil desires and deeds. It was all fun and games knowing he has an awesome quirk like that... until his father, Enji Todoroki, decided to ruin everything for him.

But he swore to be someone better than him; to be a man suitable to be called a father.

That afternoon, Y/n arrived at her home with such beautiful sight; Touya and Yuta scooped in each others' arms while the movie was left streaming. She smiled at the sight. It was so cute. For a few seconds, she almost believed that Touya was Yuta's father. The young mother couldn't help it but to take a picture of the two while having their peaceful slumber.

"I saw you," Touya spoke, "Delete it."

Y/n giggled as Touya stood up from his position as he tried to grab the phone away from her hands. It was such a cute sight. She was sticking her tongue out while she was trying to chase him. Y/n couldn't help but to feel as if they were all.. what? 17? Whatever, it felt cute, though.

"Yeah, whatever. Have that pic all you want. You can even make it your wallpaper." Y/n got her cheeks pinched by him as he gave her a light kiss on the nose. "I'm going now, sweet cheeks, I'm attending night shift for tonight."

"Sure, sure." Y/n smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek, as she watched his lean and toned figure leave their house. All that's left is her and Yuta. Slowly, his eyes opened to see his mother watching him sleep.

"Mommy?" Yuta spoke in a drowsy tone.

Y/n responded, hugging her son beside her while his eyes still looked sleepy. Seems that the sleep wasn't enough for him, huh? The young lady laughed at this, ruffling his hair, and deciding to ask him. "How was your day with Uncle Touya? Is it better than it was when you're at school?"

The young lad aggressively nodded and decided to tell Y/n the greatest thing that he discovered today.

"My quirk just manifested, ma! I have blue flames!" Yuta exclaimed as he tried to show it off with the tip of his fingers. Y/n's eyes widened at this— it created a tingling feeling in her heart. It was like a slap on her face. Yuta is really Dabi's son, isn't he?

"T-That's awesome." Y/n replied, trying to stop tears from flowing.

While her son was still busy talking about his day, her hands were able to feel something on the couch. It was... hard. She pulled out to see a black leather wallet. Did Touya forget his stuff here? Y/n sighed at his forgetfulness. Well, he's a person, she thought, so he has flaws too.

"Did Uncle Touya forget that, ma?" Yuta asked in a polite tone. "Bring it back to him tomorrow, okay?"

Y/n smiled at what he said. She really raised her son well. "Sure!"

It was night time. Yuta went back to sleep and Y/n was busy contemplating inside her room— walking back and forth; thinking about whether she should check his stuff or what.

It's not what others would think. It's just that it's been two months since they got together but Touya only says few things about himself. All she knew is that his parents are living overseas and he's left alone here. He has siblings who lived with their parents in abroad. Nothing more, nothing less.

Aside from that, it wouldn't hurt to peek just a little bit, right?

Y/n sighed as she finally came to a conclusion to check his wallet to see if there's something that would tell more about himself. It's not like she was nosy. She just wants to get to know him at a better level. He's quite of a silent and mysterious guy himself, which got the young lady curious about him.

Of course, there was nothing new; just few IDs, bunch of credit cards (which Y/n thought was odd because if he had this much money, why would he work in an old bar as a bartender), and a thin wad of cash. Nothing else— until something that was so unordinary in her eyes— fell.

Her eyes widened as she saw that memoribilia. No words could come out from her mouth. Her vision felt so dark; as if it was slowly fading; and her heart hurt so much. Only tears could come out from her eyes. No scream, no words, no phrases— simply, nothing.

"Y-you..." Her fists clenched tightly as her form started shaking— she didn't know what to feel. Is it anger, sadness, remorse— what should she feel first? She began to wail as she stared and touched at this object from the past. Whatever that happened was too painful for her to bear.

"You fooled me... Dabi."

That night, Touya was looking for his wallet. It was nowhere to be found; not even in his car. Maybe he left it at your place? Well, whatever the circumstances are, he was hoping that none of you would be able to find it. Maybe, he'd drive towards your place again and—

His thoughts were interrupted as his phone rang. The caller ID showed Y/n— and a selfie that she sent him as the profile picture. Immediately, he answered it.

"Hello, bab—"

"Don't you babe me. We have to talk." Y/n's voice sounded cold and harsh. She was angry... and he knew it. Touya knew that tone several years ago; and if he hears that, he knows that hell will break because of her wrath.

"What is it?"

"Stop acting dumb." Y/n scoffed.

"How the hell are you alive, Dabi?"

Taglist [OPEN]: @babayaga67 @marydragneell @xxtrash-kingxx @paranoiac-666 @velvet-kissesss @orenjineki @mermaid-starlet @ikita454 @yo-girl-lunar @pansexual-booknerd @daimiyu

a/n: i kinda did stop updating this but like bnha chapter 290 got me like 😭😭😭😭 dabi can i give u a hug plspslslslsl 😗😗

[engie-ivy]

do you have a fic where remus confronts Sirius of believing he was the spy (like maybe canon divergence - they all live) and refuses to agree that just because there was a war doesn’t mean he should’ve not trusted him or used the excuse that he’s a werewolf not to believe him

Hi!

I have fics that deal with the suspicions and false accusations during the war! But these do take on a more Fluffy path, and eventually lead to them being understanding and forgiving of each other's behaviour😅

You might like the confrontation in

If Tomorrow the World Crumbles

“Well, what am I supposed to bloody think, then?” Sirius shouted back. “You’re obviously keeping things from me! How is this sketchy behaviour going to make anything better? Why couldn’t you just come talk to me, so you could have proven that you’re not-”

“Because I shouldn’t have to proof anything to you!” A hint of pain was seeping through in Remus’s frustration. “All my life I’ve had to proof myself to everyone, and all my life I’ll have to continue proving myself, simply because of what I am, but not to you. Never to you. You’re supposed to believe in me! You’re the one person who’s supposed to be on my side.”

And here's an excerpt from my longer fic

If Only You Knew the Whole Story

He’s sitting in a chair. His arms are handcuffed behind his back and his ankles are chained to the legs of the chair. Protective spells are placed around him, making it impossible to come any closer than half a meter in his vicinity, though there isn’t much he could even do without his wand. His long, dark hair is tied in a messy bun with loose strands falling over his face, and he still has the muggle clothes on he was wearing when he got arrested.

He’d been wearing muggle clothes a lot. When James teased him about it, he told him to go try and ride a motorbike in flapping wizarding robes and then come talk to him. No one particularly minded seeing him in tight fitted muggle clothes anyway, as the man has always been unfairly good-looking.

He looks up as Emmeline enters the room, his grey eyes empty and emotionless.

Sirius Black.

“I didn’t think you’d come back. You seemed rather pissed off when you left the last time.”

“I’m pissed off at you by default. But I did some fact-checking on your previous claims.”

Black rolls his eyes. “If you looked him up in the Animagus register, I could have told you-”

“Actually, I went to a more direct source.”

“Hello, Black.” Remus steps in the room, his eyes focused somewhere on the logo on Black’s worn-out band shirt, deliberately not meeting Black’s eyes, his mask of indifference firmly in place. Emmeline understands his need to not show any emotion in front of Black.

Black’s face, on the other hand, is a whole different story. It’s hard to imagine his eyes were so void of emotion just a moment ago, as a variety of emotions passes over his face.

Disbelief. Hope. Fear. Guilt. Pain.

When he speak, soft and barely audible, his voice sounds so broken that it sends a shock through Emmeline’s body. She can tell Remus feels the same, as his eyes snap up to Black’s face.

“Remus? Please...”

“I messed up, Remus. I messed up so bad. But if only you knew the whole story-”

“You’re going to tell me the whole story,” Remus interrupts, his voice cold and bitter. “The real story.” He opens his palm to reveal the small flask of Veritaserum.

Now, Emmeline was expecting anger. Anger as Black would realise he wouldn’t be able to make up stories anymore. Anger as he saw his plans of manipulating Remus with his lies go up in smoke. Emmeline may have understood shock, that they would actually dare to force him to take the truth potion, or maybe even panic, now that his ploy is officially over.

What Emmeline did not expect, however, was the look of sheer hope on Black’s face, like he’s a dehydrated man who has been wandering the dessert for days and Remus is holding a glass of fresh, cold water.

“Yes,” he says pleading. “Yes, please...”

It completely catches Emmeline off guard, and she can tell Remus is also thrown off. He stares at Black dumbfounded and seems unsure what to do next. He fumbles with the flask, opening it and sliding it across the table towards Black.

As they can’t get near Black with the protective charms surrounding him, Emmeline doesn’t know what they would have done of he had simply refused to drink the potion, but then again, that would have said enough of itself, wouldn’t it? Now, however, Black wastes no time in bending forward, taking the flask between his lips and throwing his head back, gulping the potion down.

After Black has dropped the empty bottle back on the table, he sits motionless in his chair, his eyes closed. Remus is staring at him intently, his mouth in a hard line and his knuckles turning white where he’s gripping the edge of the table. The moment can’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Despite all her talk about only doing this for Remus, not believing anything will come of it, Emmeline feels nerves coursing through her body. There’s a heavy tension hanging in the room and the air feels thick. Emmeline can only imagine what this moment must be like for Remus.

After what seems like hours, Black slowly opens his eyes. “It wasn’t me.”

So few words hardly more than a whisper, but their impact couldn’t have been greater if he had shouted them in their faces.

Remus’s legs threaten to give out from under him and he supports himself on the table, staring at the wood while gasping for air.

“It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me.” Black repeats the words like a mantra.

Remus lifts his head, and upon seeing the pain, hope and confusion on his face, Emmeline wants to run to him, support him and start questioning Black, but at the same time she feels like she needs to stay out of it for now, this needs to be between them.

“What wasn’t you?” Remus breathes. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Everything. Any of it. The murders, the betrayal. Rem, I wasn’t even the Secret-Keeper!”

“But... But...” Remus tries desperately to order his thoughts. “Peter?”

Black nods silently.

Remus shakes his head. “No, no. James insisted! He would never choose anyone but you!”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Black replies as he shifts his gaze downwards, sadness reflecting in his eyes. “Not until I convinced him to. Merlin, I thought I was so clever! A perfect way to throw them off track. Who would even consider it being anyone else?”

“But you told me it was you! Those evenings we spent talking about it...”

“I lied! I lied to you, Remus.”

Remus stares at him for a while. “You didn’t trust me.” It’s not a question.

“We knew there was a spy,” Black says, looking absolutely miserable. “We just didn’t know who.”

“And I was the logical choice,” Remus states. “I assume because I’m a dark creature?”

“Yes. It was because you’re a werewolf.” Black looks Remus straight in the eyes. “Because you have fifteen years of experience keeping secrets and hiding who you are. And you’re so damned good at it! Better than anyone I know. Dumbledore always chose you for the most secret missions. You were the only one amongst us no one had any idea of where they were going or what they were doing.”

“That wasn’t by choice!”

“I know, I know. Remus, you have to understand. We didn’t think you were the traitor, we just couldn’t be absolutely sure that you weren’t the traitor.”

Remus swallows and looks away. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that I felt with every fibre of my being that I could trust you and you would never hurt us!” Black speaks. “But at that time, I couldn’t allow myself to feel, I had to think. And logical thinking, shutting off all emotion, said that none of us could say with one hundred percent certainty that it wasn’t you. With Harry’s life at stake, we couldn’t afford to take any chances. It was best not to tell.”

Remus nods, but he’s still not meeting Black’s gaze.

“Remus, please look at me,” Black says earnest. “I need you to know this. We still would have died for you in a heartbeat, Lily, James and me. We still thought the world of you.”

“But I thought the worst of you!” Remus’s breath hitches. “I despised you, wanted to hate you! If I had found you that night, I would have...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, doesn’t need to.

Black doesn’t look shocked, or even angry. He just looks immensely sad.

“Why wouldn’t you have? I fucked everything up, Remus. I lied to you, I trusted the wrong people, I distrusted the wrong people, I convinced James to take a path that lead straight to his death. And I can’t even do the only thing James asked me to do in case the worst would happen! I can’t even take care of Harry, like I promised I would. I abandoned him in my failed attempt at revenge, another one of my numerous mistakes. I literally can’t think of a single thing I haven’t screwed up these last weeks.”

Remus just stares at him. Only after a long silence, he speaks.

“You really are... you.”

Black just blinks at him.

“I mean, the boy who snuck out of the dorm to keep me company in the hospital wing, the boy who bribed the house elves to make my favourite chocolate cake on my birthday, the man who wanted me to stay with him when I had no place to live and never let me go, the man who once attacked five Death Eaters on his own because one of them had tried to use the Cruciatus curse on me... That person was not a facade, an act or a lie. That person was really you. You’re really that person.”

“Telling you I was the Secret-Keeper was hard for me, as it was the first and only time I ever lied to you, I promise.”

“I know,” Remus slides down in the chair across from Black. “And it’s okay, Sirius. It’s okay.”

Sirius closes his eyes for a moment. As he opens them again to look at Remus, they’re filled with relief.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s just... You’re the only person who I couldn’t bear to see me as a monster.”

Remus smiles softly. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

I hope you still like it, though it might not be exactly what you're looking for!

[nightbts]

through the night | jjk | 07

pairing: jeon jungkook + stylist! reader

word count: 6.5k

genre: fluff, angst + idol! au

parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

author’s note: and that’s the end everyone, thank you so much for everyone who has loved and supported this fic; it was definitely rough at times but I’m glad I was able to finish it! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :’)

listen to this playlist while reading! 

best of friends. that’s what you and jungkook were. as their stylist for several years now, you and jungkook got along like no other and over time developed a friendship that was special to the two of you. but what happens when an IU collaboration deal, a jealous childhood-best friend and secret feelings get intertwined with the simple life you thought you were living?

Humming one of their recent tracks mindlessly, Jungkook slipped his phone back into his pocket after sending Jimin a quick reply, telling him that he’d be there in the studio in just a couple minutes.

As he walked down the hallway, his eyes momentarily fell upon the staff room, knowing if you were to be found anywhere at this time, it would be there or your office.

But after already taking the long way to walk by your empty office, he knew there would be a good chance of you inside those doors. A slight hesitation in his step, he groaned inwardly as his feet automatically walked towards the staff room. Damn, his weakness.

He didn’t even know what he would say to you if you were there. Hello? How are you? Even the thought of it sounded ridiculous to him.

You had been the one to avoid Jungkook, no explanation given, yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty when he gave you the same treatment. He didn’t like it, not a single bit. Not when it pained him every second to see the distraught look on your face, when he just wanted to have you in his arms and tell you to tell him everything, that’d he be there no matter what.

Finding himself reaching for the doorknob, his grip faltered when he glanced up. Jungkook felt his stomach instantly drop as he looked through the small rectangular glass window on the door, his eyes falling on you and Jiho with your lips connected, as you stood there, pressed against the countertop.

Hands trembling, Jungkook looked down at the floor. He knew he had no right to feel hurt, or jealous, yet there he was feeling those emotions in the worst way possible, his heart twisting uneasily in his chest. Before he could fully comprehend the situation, the door had swung open, causing him to back up several steps. There you stood, face flushed with a flustered look painting your soft features. Yet, the second your eyes landed on him, he watched as all the color drained from your face, your eyes widening in fear.  

“Jungkook.”

“Y/N, I—” Jiho’s voice echoed from behind you, his words trailing when his eyes fell on the figure standing in front of you. Frozen, you watched as Jungkook’s gaze slowly moved behind you, instantly hardening as he let out a small scoff. Just when you were about to say something, Jungkook excused himself, twisting around and walking away.

“Jungkook, wait!”

Jungkook heard your voice yet he didn’t stop, only getting more determined to walk faster. “Jungkook—”, you pleaded when he felt your hand grab his wrist, tugging at his arm, causing him to turn around.  

You looked a mess. A panic-stricken expression clouded your face, eyes wide and ears red. Yet as Jungkook’s eyes trailed down to your slightly swollen red lips, it was like another punch right to his gut.

“Please, hear me out.” you started, “Whatever you saw, that wasn’t what—”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Y/N.” Jungkook answered without looking at you, “It’s none of my business.”

“No, no, please. You’ve got it all wrong.” Grabbing both of his hands, you made him face you. Despite the usual feeling Jungkook got whenever you touched him, this time he only felt anger bubbling inside of him. “I- I know the last couple weeks have been all kinds of messed up, but please just listen to me—!”

“Y/N”, Jungkook cut you off, this time letting his gaze meet yours, “I already said, you don’t need to explain yourself. Why do you? It’s not like we’re in a relationship or something, right?” he laughed bitterly, yet the words felt harsh even on his own tongue.

Your face falls at that as you slowly drop your hands to your sides; there wasn’t a single lie in the words he said, yet you couldn’t help but wince as they cut through you like knives.

“R-right. I just...I don’t want you to get the wrong idea—” you started when you heard him scoff under his breath, “The wrong idea? You sure didn’t seem to have a problem with that for the last couple weeks.”

You took a step back as you watched him squeeze his eyes shut, his fists clenching together at his sides. Jungkook had tried remaining calm, civil at best, despite what he had stumbled upon. But the more you spoke, he couldn’t.

“You gave me no explanation, no warning, no signs, nothing.” he spat with clenched teeth, as the image of Jiho’s lips on yours appeared once again in his mind, “So don’t act like you’re saving me from getting the ‘wrong idea’ right now when that’s what you’ve been giving me for weeks.”

“Jungkook, you don’t know what you’re talking about—” your voice trembled, despite the hint of warning laced within your words.

However, Jungkook barely took notice of it as your words only caused him to chuckle humorlessly, “I don’t know what I’m talking about? What a joke.”

Moving closer to you, he narrowed his eyes at you before spitting, “I had you go from talking to me every day to now barely even sparing me a glance. And guess what’s worse? You only acted that way with me, not with any of the other members or staff. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that and even when I did, that I’d be oka—?!”

“Well, what did you expect?!”

As the question slipped past your lips, Jungkook saw the way your once pleading eyes quickly hardened as you stared down at the ground, biting down on your lip. Staring at you in slight surprise at your sudden outburst, Jungkook’s brows furrowed. But before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“It must be easy for you to forget Jungkook, but it isn’t the same for me,” you spoke harshly. Watching as confusion clouded his features, you chuckled bitterly, “Of course you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about.”

Your heart started to feel heavy in your chest; simply standing in the presence of Jungkook for this long was enough to make you want to cry and yell at the same time. How were you supposed to make him understand, when the things you wanted to tell him were a secret you had held so dearly for years now?

From the second you knew you had fallen for Jungkook, you had a feeling a day like this would come. You weren’t going to be unrealistic, there was no easy way confessing to your world-wide famous best-friend, that you also worked with, that you were in love with them. But you were still foolish; you told yourself you’d find someone else, or that over time reality would strike you again and you’d magically lose feelings, but you should’ve known none of that would ever happen when you had loved the boy standing in front of you with every ounce of your body.

Mustering up the strength you had left, you asked him the question you had been dying to know the answer to since that night, “Did the night at the studio mean nothing to you?”

Jungkook took in a sharp breath.

After a long time, Jungkook looked straight at you. You watched his gaze soften, shifting into something that appeared to be a dangerous mix of sadness and warmth.

“Of course it didn’t Y/N. That night meant everything to me.”

His words should’ve comforted you. His words should’ve had your heart racing in your chest, had your palms sweating like crazy by your side while you would’ve fought the urge to break out into a heartwarming smile.

Instead, all that left your lips was a bitter chuckle.

“Everything to you?” you repeated dryly, “Is that why you went on the show and serenaded and flirted with IU like your life depended on it?”

Pulling harshly at the loose strands of your worn-out sweater, you spoke, voice shaking with every word, “Listen Jungkook. I never asked you for anything. You chose to be my friend. You chose to get close to me. And you chose to act the way you did that night. So, you have no right to be upset when you did all that. You gave me hope, made me feel things I never felt before and then just—” you hiccuped as a lump formed in your throat, “just acted like none of it mattered to you.”

As silence filled the space around you, the tension became so thick one would need a knife to cut through it. What you had said was enough for even a child to understand; you didn’t have to say it directly for Jungkook to know how just how you felt towards him.

Feeling the emotional exhaustion bear down on you, tears pricking the corners of your eyes you finally spoke, your voice much calmer, dangerously still, “I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore right now.”

Your words seemed to finally jolt Jungkook back into reality. Still in shock from the things you had said, his mind unable to fully comprehend the meaning behind them, you watched as he shot you a frantic look, “No, Y/N, wait—”

You stared at his feet, your throat dry, “No Jungkook. I’m sorry, I’m leaving.”

“Y/N,” he sighs but you raised your hand up to shut him up, as you slowly backed away. Turning around, you came face to face with another person that only caused your head to ache even more. You watched as he gazed at you worriedly, his hands reaching out towards you when you gently pushed him off, “No Jiho, not today. I need to be alone.”

You turn away from both of them, as you walked away, leaving them behind as they stared at your retreating figure. Your hair did a good job of covering your face as you let the tears roll down your cheeks, hoping to lessen the pain and confusion that overwhelmed you.

“It’s okay to cry, Y/N. Just let it all out.” the soft voice comforted you through the laptop speakers. Whimpering, you pulled your knees up to your chest as you cried harder. Several minutes passed before your sobs began to quiet down.

“God, I hate my fucking life.” you cried, as you wiped the tears that had claimed permanent residency on your face during the last couple days, “I knew from the moment I felt something towards him, nothing good was going to happen.”

Sighing, Chungah shifted so that she propped her chin up on her palm, her face bobbing up and down before finally settling in front of the camera. Frowning slightly at the sight of her sister, she said, “Y/N. You know it’s not your fault. It was inevitable.”

“What about Jiho?! That was never supposed to happen!” you groaned in frustration, falling back against the pillow as you stared up at the ceiling.  

Pursing her lips together, she nodded slowly, “While that did come as a surprise to me, it kinda makes sense too. After all, he was your friend for a long time and had stuck through a lot of your shit.”

Narrowing your bloodshot eyes at her, you replied sarcastically, “Thanks. It’s not like I asked for confirmation on how horrible my life was.”

Moaning for the nth time that day, you sniffled, “I just...I thought Jungkook felt the same way you know? Especially since he almost kissed me that one night—”  

“Well, maybe he does.”

You snap your head up to look at your sister, “What?”

She shrugs. “Have you ever consider hearing him out? It’s not like you walked in on him making out with IU, it was a variety show. Doesn’t a shit ton of editing and directing happen to create something that’s desirable for viewers?”

You opened your mouth to retort, however as you let Chungah’s words sink in, you found yourself having nothing to say. Still, the bitterness you felt inside you would take a lot more than some common sense from your sister to leave.

“But then why didn’t he tell me that? Didn’t he think that would hurt me?”

“Y/N. Did you ever think maybe he didn’t know you liked him either? What makes you think he knows to begin with? You aren’t exactly an open book.”

“Are you on his side or mine?” you scowled defensively.

“I’m not on anyone’s side.” She laughs lightly. “I’m just saying, you were the one to ignore him first and he didn’t even know why. And then, he was the one who saw you and Jiho kissing. Now, if Jungkook really did like you, imagine how much he’s hurting.”

Pursing your lips together, you hung your head low as you let out a soft sigh. You knew she was right. Looking back on it, you knew this all along. Yet somewhere in you, the fear of being wrong about Jungkook was far more frightening to you.

“Y/N.” your sister calls you. You look up and meet her eyes through the laptop screen as she gave you a small smile, “I know everything is confusing right now, and things are hard because these are two people who mean a lot to you. But, you are causing yourself and them more pain by ignoring them. Just, try having a normal conversation. Hear each other out. I promise, it’ll clear things up and have you feeling a lot better in the end.”

That night, you had trouble falling asleep. You let yourself scroll through all your social media accounts mindlessly, however without fail you’d see something BTS-related and there he would be, staring at you with his heart-fluttering smile through your iPhone screen. Groaning, you twisted around in your bed, moving towards your nightstand to put your phone away when you heard your phone vibrate.

[12:47] jungkookie: hey, r u awake?

You stared at the notification banner with wide eyes. Contemplating whether to answer him or not, your sister’s advice came into mind; with hesitation, you clicked on it and started typing your response.

[12:47] you: yea can’t sleep for some reason

[12:47] jungkookie: same, me too

Biting down on your lip, you finally sighed before locking your phone, unsure of how to respond. However, before you could put it away, your screen lit up again.

[12:48] jungkookie: can we talk?

[12:48] you: it’s pretty late jungkook... don’t you have a recording tmrw?

[12:48] jungkookie: i'll be okay can i call?

[12:48] you: i don’t think now’s a good time, jungkook

You knew what Chungah said was right, but everything was still fresh for you. You were afraid, that whatever Jungkook might say to you that night—anything really—you’d be too emotional to handle it properly.

You needed time.

[12:48] jungkookie: maybe tomorrow then?  

[12:49] you: i have a lot of meetings tmrw maybe some other time

You watched as the grey typing bubble appeared and disappeared for several minutes after you had sent your last text message. You sat in fear, hoping he would drop it but also couldn’t help but anticipate what he had to say.

[12:50] jungkookie: that’s okay, some other time it is goodnight Y/N

You stared at the text for a while before pressing the lock button, shoving the phone underneath your pillow. Sleep, you needed to sleep.

“One second!”

Holding the iPad closer to your chest, you took in a deep breath as the studio door swung open. Dressed in simple sweats, yet managing to still look effortlessly handsome, you watched as Jungkook pulled his headphones back, so that it was only covering one ear. Gaze resting on you, his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Y/N?”

Looking away, you mumbled softly, “I was assigned to discuss styling plans for your upcoming interview regarding the collaboration.”

Eyes glancing back at the digital clock that rested on his desk, he [said], “Right! I forgot about that. Come inside...”

Reaching out, Jungkook held the door back as you quickly slid yourself past him, moving to the opposite side of the room. Closing the door behind you, he turned around to face you.

“We can sit on the couch if you want.” he offered.

Nodding slowly, you made your way over to the navy blue couch which sat  across from his recording equipment. Following you, he sat beside you while still remaining a significant distance away.

You didn’t know whether to feel hurt or relieved.

“So—” you started, clearing your throat as you forced yourself to push your emotions aside and act more professional, “IU’s stylist sent me over what she’s planning on wearing and he suggested that we try to color-coordinate.”

Unlocking your iPad, you opened up your dropbox which was filled with different sketches and samples of outfits you had pre-planned for him. You clicked on the file IU’s stylist had sent you, “This is what she’ll be wearing.”

Jungkook moved in slightly closer to you, as he peered over your hands to see the image you pulled up. Sketches of a pale satin blue sundress appeared on the screen, followed by an image of IU wearing the dress itself.

“Wow, she looks amazing.” he whispered in awe when he suddenly looked up at you, a flustered look spreading across his face, “I-I mean, so would anyone else—”

Ignoring him, despite the pang of jealousy that came with his side comment, your lips pursed into a thin line as you continued to scroll down the files. Jungkook gulped beside you, scolding himself mentally for being an idiot who couldn’t control his thoughts.

“Pants or Jeans?” Jungkook murmured softly, causing you to look at him in surprise.

“Huh?”

Pointing towards the notes you had scribbled in the bottom corner of the page, he said, “You wrote, pants or jeans here. Personally, I think black slacks would work well with this outfit.”

“Ah, that.” you replied, quickly nodding, “I think you’re right too. Here, let me show you some of the sets I had paired.”

Within minutes, the discomfort you had initially felt had worn off as you and Jungkook continued to discuss more about his outfit choices and all the specific technicalities that followed with choosing certain brands than others.

“Honestly, you know I’m not too picky. These aren’t really my style, but I’ll wear what I need to for the interview.” he said to which you laughed slightly, “Jungkook, if we let you dress up in your style, you’d just wear all black.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with that?!” he grinned, flashing you a cheeky smile.

You had missed moments like this. Moments where he would crack jokes with you, give you a playful wink when he made a cheeky statement or smile at you when you could lend him words of encouragement. Moments you had decided you couldn’t handle anymore because of your growing feelings.

But maybe you could return to normalcy; maybe if you tried hard enough, things could be the same.

Shaking your head in amusement, you gave him a knowing look before bringing your attention back to your notes. Circling the option the both of you agreed on, and adding some final notes for alterations, you pressed the lock button.

Looking back up at him, you noticed he was already staring at you, a soft smile resting on his face. Upon being caught, he quickly lowered his gaze, staring down at his hands that were clasped together tightly in his lap.

“I-I should get going now,” you said softly, the tension slowly starting to build up to what it was when you first got here.

“Y-Yea...”  

Giving him a small goodbye, you got up from the couch and made your way towards the door. Watching you from behind, Jungkook had to hold himself from reaching out and grabbing your arm to stop you from leaving him. He should’ve asked you more questions, more details about his outfit, more about the interview itself even though you wouldn’t know the answers to them, just to keep you with him here longer. Instead, he watched as you walked away.

Reaching the door handle, your sister’s words rung through your head, causing you to hesitate. Sighing under your breath, you contemplated turning around or simply leaving. But before you could come to a decision, a voice pulled you out your thoughts.

“Y/N, w-wait...”

Fingertips barely grazing the top of the handle, you stiffened as you heard the couch creak, followed by footsteps moving towards your direction.

“Can we talk?” you heard him ask softly.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you let out a shaky breath before turning around halfway. Jungkook was looking down at your feet, his brows furrowed tightly together as he shifted from one foot to another.

“I just—” he started with a sigh, running his hands through his hair, “The way I said things the other day were really harsh, and I regretted them the moment I said them. I just feel like, there are a lot of things unspoken between us and I just wanna talk—”

“Okay.”

Stopping mid-sentence, Jungkook looked at you in slight surprise, “O-Okay?”

Nodding, you completely turned around so that you were facing him, “Yea, let’s talk. Chungah said I needed to hear you out...” you trailed off, ending with a soft mumble, “Or something like that.”

At that, the corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitched, “Chungah said that? Guess I owe your sister, huh?”

Laughing lightly, silence quickly filled the room soon after, neither of you knowing what to say, or where to even start. Finally, as the tension grew enough to suffocate you, you let out a huge breath, lifting your eyes to meet his, “Jungkook—”

“Wait, before you talk, can I say something first?” he quickly intercepts, his eyes pleading as you gave him a silent nod.

“The things you said the other day had me thinking a lot,” he started, “When you mentioned the night at the dance studio, and then the show with IU, I started thinking about what you were trying to say because in that moment, I was filled with so much pent-up frustration that I didn’t even try to understand. But after I was much calmer, I thought about it and...I think I get it now.” Scratching the back of his neck, you saw what you thought was him blushing as his face flushed a deep shade of red, “A-and, I wanted you to know that I feel the same way too.”

Blinking at him, you stared at him for what seemed like too long before he gave you a flustered look, “I just—I thought about how I felt that night in the dance studio with you and then I thought about all of the other times you made me feel the same way, whether it was when you were by my side during the tour or when you were always supportive of everything I did, everything started to make sense.”

You knew exactly what he was saying, yet you couldn’t believe your own ears. Your hands shook at your sides, as you quickly clutched the material of your skirt in attempts to hide your nervousness from Jungkook.

“W-what made sense?” you asked in a soft whisper. Meeting your gaze, he saw the way you looked at him earnestly, anticipation dripping from your gaze. Chuckling softly, Jungkook stepped closer to you. His hands slowly reached down to yours, removing them from your skirt and enclosing them within his own.

“It made sense that all this time Y/N, I was in love with you.”

You blinked furiously at him, his words causing your heart to beat so loud, you could feel it drumming in your ear. Yet as you stood there staring at him, his eyes suddenly making your knees weaken, the only words you could muster up  were, “W-was?”

Lips parting, Jungkook stared at you before stifling a laugh. The look on his face was enough to break you out of your initial shock; frowning slightly, you gave his shoulder a gentle shove.

“I’m being serious...” you murmured, feeling embarrassed as you looked away.  

Jungkook smiled, almost shyly, before lowering his head and crouching down to match your level, forcing you to meet his gaze yet again.

“Am.” he whispered softly, his brown orbs staring lovingly into yours, “I am in love with you. So damn much.”

Tears pricking the corner of your eyes, you shook your head in disbelief as you felt every neuron in your body explode, a million fireworks going off as you stood there staring at the boy who you loved so much, admit that he loved you back.

Before you could regret anything, you threw your arms around him and pulled him into a hug, your head resting on his chest as you could hear the way his heart thrummed against it.

“Jungkook, I love you so much too.” you finally whispered, laughing lightly through the tears that escaped your eyes.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you closer to him as he held you tighter, his head resting perfectly into the crook of your neck, “I never thought I would hear you say that.”

Pulling away, you gave him a silly look, sniffling, “You’re an idiot. Who wouldn’t love you?”

Laughing softly, Jungkook said with a fond look, “I didn’t care about anyone else, except you Y/N. You were all that mattered to me.”

Feeling a new wave of tears come about, you were about to ask him when he had learned to get all gushy like that when a certain someone came to mind. Noticing the smile on your face had faded, your brows furrowing together, Jungkook looked at you in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

Pressing your lips together, you looked up at him, “I need to explain myself too, Jungkook. That day when you saw me with Jiho—”

“Y/N, it’s alright—.”

“No, it’s not! You deserve to know—”

Pressing a finger to your lips, you closed your mouth as you looked at him with wide eyes. Laughing at the expression on your face, he finally said, “We talked about it. Jiho and I. He told me everything, so don’t worry. You don’t have to explain.”

At that, you blinked at him in surprise, “You and Jiho talked? When?”

“The same day. When you had left us both standing there, I kinda got upset at him but in the end we talked it all out and he told me everything.” Jungkook replied. He remembered the way he had turned to face Jiho as soon as you had left his sight, his gaze blazing with anger at the older man when he suddenly saw Jiho with his head hung low, defeat evident in his eyes. Both of them had sat down in the staff room, the room where just minutes ago Jiho had kissed you, a moment he knew he would regret for his entire life. There, he had told Jungkook everything. From how he knew Jungkook had liked you, how Jiho had loved you for so long and how he didn’t think Jungkook deserved you. But eventually, Jiho had admitted that it was his own selfishness and insecurities which were stopping him from accepting Jungkook.

“Ah, really?” you mumbled. Your eyes fluttered close as a soft sigh evaded your lips. During the time you spent avoiding Jungkook, you had ignored Jiho’s texts and calls too. You felt like the world’s biggest hypocrite.

You felt a hand brush against your cheek, pulling your attention back to the boy who stood before you.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I can’t even imagine how much he’s hurting. But, this isn’t your fault, okay? Just remember that.” Jungkook told you in hopes of reassuring you.

A moment passed before you finally spoke, “I-I just...I wish I had known before. I wish he had told me so I could’ve told him that all my life, he’s always been the older brother figure in my life. The timing of all this is just horrible, you know?”

Pulling you back into your arms, Jungkook rubbed your back softly as you took comfort in his touch. One on hand, the guilt gnawed at you but on the other, you knew this was what your heart had been waiting for all your life.

“Y/N, don’t feel guilty about being happy. We’ll figure this out together, step by step, alright?” Jungkook whispered into your ear. Hearing his words, you felt your heart fill with warmth, the word together causing you to break into a smile as you nodded.

“Yea, together.”

“Jungkook! Where are we going!”

Flailing you arms about, trying to grasp onto something to make sense of where you were, you felt a warm hand slip into yours before Jungkook scolded you in a hushed whisper, “Could you be any louder!? I snuck away from late night practice for this. Hoseok hyung will kill me if he finds out!”

Attempting to roll your eyes underneath the blindfold Jungkook had haphazardly tied across your eyes, you instead chose to pout, whining softly, “Hey, you’re the one who kidnapped me. I just wanna know where we’re going~”

Suddenly, you felt your cheeks squish together, the motion causing you to go still as you felt Jungkook’s hot breath dangerously close to your face. Lips puckered like a fish, you stammered, “J-Jungkook—”

“Stop acting cute or I’ll kiss you, dumbass,” he mumbled softly, his words causing your cheeks to heat up.

Releasing your cheeks, Jungkook grabbed your hand again as you bit down on your lip to prevent yourself from saying anything else. You let Jungkook lead you up a staircase, when you heard the sound of a door creaking open, a sudden gust of wind welcoming you.

“Are we—” you started when you felt Jungkook move behind you, untying the blindfold as the cloth fell from your eyes. Blinking, you let out a soft gasp as you took in the sight in front of you.

“What is all this?” you whispered out loud, as you looked around in awe. You were standing in the rooftop of the BigHit building as the area looked completely different to how it usually does; blankets were spread around with pillows of all sizes everywhere, some even resembling a fort. Beside that laid a mini grilling set, meat and veggies resting on the side as a pack of beer cans sat beside it. String lights were hung from across the area, the soft yellow lights twinkling like stars as the brought a gentle warmth despite the darkness that enveloped the night sky above you.

"D-do you like it?”

Glancing up at Jungkook, you stared at him as he peered down at you nervously, rolling his lips between his teeth. Shaking your head in disbelief, you threw yourself onto Jungkook, your arms wrapping around his neck as you grinned, “Do I like it? This is amazing Jungkook, I absolutely love it!”

You watched as he sighed in immediate relief, his shoulders relaxing as you turned back around to look at the set-up one more time, “Jungkook, why did you do all this, I’m—”

Wrapping his arms from behind you, he rested his head in the crook of your neck as you turned to look at him, his face just mere millimeters away from yours, “I wanted to do something special for you. A surprise first date.”

You raised a brow, before musing, “A date? I didn’t realize we were dating, Jungkook.”

Jungkook suddenly looked flustered, his eyes widening as he broke out into a fit of coughs, nervous laughter spilling past his lips, “I-I, uh, um—”

Stifling a laugh, your hand grasped the collar of his jacket before pulling him down to your level, kissing him right on the cheek. Pulling back, you gave him a playful wink before grinning, “I’m kidding, dumbass.”

Blinking, he watched as you pulled away from his grasp and made your way to the area he had set-up for your date. His fingers slowly grazed the spot on his cheek where you had kissed him, the feeling of your soft lips still stuck in his memory.

“Jungkook, are you coming or not?” he heard you call, as you tried your best not to laugh at the flushed look on his face, despite having your own heart race as your lips tingled.

//

After you and Jungkook had eaten every last ounce of meat, even playing an endless round of rock-paper-scissors to see who would get the last piece, (Jungkook won, but still ended up feeding it to you. “It’s called true love,” he grinned cheekily.) the both of you were finally full and were now resting against the mountain of soft pillows around you as you overlooked the bustling nightlife beneath you. 

Cracking open a beer can, Jungkook handed it to you as you gave him a small thank you, before taking a sip, the cold liquid rushing down your throat.

“Mm, that’s good stuff,” you hummed in appreciation, quickly taking another sip as the bittersweet taste fills your mouth. 

“Slow down there, I don’t want you getting drunk that fast.”

“Why, you planning on doing something?” you teased boldly, not knowing where this surge of confidence within you came from. Rolling his eyes in amusement, Jungkook simply moved closer to you before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to his side, allowing you to naturally rest your head on his chest, his own resting atop your head.

Snuggling closer into his touch, you let out a sigh of content before you finally said, “You know? This reminds me of the time you called me to drink with you on the rooftop of your old dormitory.”

“Hmm, really?” 

“I remember saying some really dangerous things back then when I was drunk,” you chuckled softly, “I’m pretty sure I asked you back then if you liked me.”

Taking another sip, Jungkook’s brows quirked, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement, “You did? Wow, what did I say?”

“You didn’t hear me,” you replied with a snort looking back on the memory, “And then I caught myself, so I quickly changed the question to ask you whether you had ever liked someone.”

Shaking his head, Jungkook laughed, “Of course you did that. Imagine if you had actually answered me Y/N, you could’ve saved us several years.”

At that, the smile on your lips fell. Removing yourself from him, you turned to stare at him with wide eyes, “W-what?”

His brows knitted together in confusion as he took in your shocked appearance, “What? What happened?”

“What do you mean by I could’ve saved us several years?” you repeated slowly, your gaze unwavering while Jungkook blinked, before you saw his lips curve upwards into a smile.

“Y/N,” he started, his eyes softening. The way he looked at you reminded you of when he had told you he loved you, your heart fluttering at the memory. Jungkook gently tucked the stray strands that fell out of your ponytail back behind your ear, before he whispered softly, “Did you think I only started loving you recently?”

You blinked once. Twice. Until his words seeped into your brain. 

“W-hat?” you stammered. The bold character you played so confidently seemed to fall apart as you stared at the boy in front of you, his gentle gaze making you feel something almost indescribable. 

Jungkook’s hand was now cupping your cheeks, as his fingers gently brushed against your cheekbone, “I didn’t know it at first. I always thought we were just really close, nothing more than best-friends. But later I realized—” he chuckled softly, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe it himself, “—I realized that, all this time, what I felt towards you had always been love. I’ve loved you since the beginning Y/N...” 

“Jungkook.” you whispered with a soft smile, tears shimmering in your eyes.

As his name left your lips, Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze once again, your cheeks flaring up in response. Just as he started moving closer, your eyes began to flutter close when you felt his hands graze yours, before he carefully removed the beer can from your hand, setting it aside. Glancing at it in slight confusion, you blinked curiously at Jungkook when suddenly you felt a pair of gentle, warm lips meet your own. 

Lingering for only a little while, it was enough to have you chasing as you immediately pulled Jungkook’s neck back towards you so that you could kiss him again, your chest bursting with a feeling you had never knew existed. The softness of his lips enveloped yours as they gently, lovingly glided across your own, his hands trailing down to your waist as he pulled you flush against him.

Losing your balance, before you knew it you had fallen against Jungkook, pushing him back as the both of you fell against the pillows around you. Pulling away with a soft chuckle, your foreheads were touching as you felt completely breathless, a shaky breath escaping his own lips as his eyes fluttered open to meet yours, sparkling like the stars above. 

Leaning back in, he pressed a soft kiss to your nose, and then your forehead, his touch sending flutters down your spine. Finally, Jungkook pulled you into a hug, and you basked in the warmth of his body as you hummed in content. You thought you could probably stay like this forever, and if time decided to stop at this exact moment, you’d be fine to be in this exact position, under the stars with the boy you had loved so much. It was crazy to think how long you had dreamed of this, to be able to hold him, kiss him and call him yours. Yet, before you knew it there you were, living it all. 

“I don’t wanna leave. Can we just stay here?” Jungkook murmurs, arms tightening, “like, all night?” 

Chuckling, you leaned back and rested your arms on his chest, “You know we can’t, Hoseok would kill you.”

Even though he knew you were right, instead Jungkook chose to purse his lips together into a pout. Laughing, you brought your hands up to his cheeks and pinched them lovingly, cooing as he simply batted your hands away, whining softly. The both of you burst into soft giggles as you gently brought his face back to yours, hoping to continue where you left off. 

Bang!

Freezing in the position you were in, Jungkook and you turned around abruptly as you saw the rooftop door swing open, slamming the wall behind it, the sound echoing in your eyes. Your eyes widened as they fell upon a figure standing at the entrance,

"Shit.” Jungkook murmured, while you ducked your head back into Jungkook’s chest, your face flushing in embarrassment. 

Hoseok crossed his arms across his chest disapprovingly, despite the hint of amusement that played across his lips. 

“Jeon Jungkook!” 

[gwen-ever]

Until My Last Breath (Chapter 1)

Summary: When Smaug arrived, he not only killed the dwarves of Erebor, but he also destroyed the lives of the few who survived... whether he did it on purpose or not.After a hundred years, a part of Thorin's past will come back to haunt him in the form of a dwarf who last knocks on the door of Bilbo Baggins' house, resurrecting old grudges and the pain of a life no one wants to talk about. Geira, daughter of Geiri, is anything but an open book, an exiled who no one wants around, a warrior who has no one to fight for, but only an oath she must fulfil.

Relationships: Thorin x FemaleOC

Rating: M

Warnings: angst,sad,

AO3 LINK: HERE

Notes: I would like to thank all of you, who commented the prologue, rebblogged it and liked it. It was a very heartwelming and I hope i wont let you down with this first chapter. In particular i need to thank@lathalea for always checking my chapters and make surei dotn mess up and, trust me, this week she really put a lot of effort to do so hahahahahha.The style its quite different from the one I will use in the rest of the story, it is just a general introduction but i really hope you cvould guess some things <3 <3 <3

Mashkil: Dirt

'Angûna: Filth

"What is she doing here?!" roared Thorin Oakenshield, an accusing finger pointing at the newcomer, who in the meantime had placed her wooden bow in a corner and removed her heavy black travelling cloak, worn out by numerous weather conditions.

She felt the king's gaze burn like fire, but tried avoiding glancing at him, even when he took one step towards her like an animal ready to attack. She shifted her gaze upwards, focusing instead on the tall figure of the sorcerer who was smiling at her with the side of his mouth.

"My dear, let me introduce you to the master of the house, Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf announced in a quiet voice, ignoring, as she did, the dwarf lord's question.

With small steps Gandalf stepped to the side, indicating a small hobbit in the middle of the hallway with his hand.

The hobbit bowed his head slightly to the side to get a better look at her. He probably didn't like being surrounded by all those intruders, and now that another one had been added, he was in complete panic. She could understand him, as she could imagine him being unaware of everything that was going on around him.

For a moment she felt genuine compassion for him, yet it was not as if she had entered in the best of moods and maintaining that facade of indifference was beginning to be difficult for her.

Keeping her composure she smiled at him slightly, making a small bow with her head as brought a hand to her chest grasping the flap of her red tunic.

"Geira, daughter of Geiri, at your service," she introduced herself.

"Traitor to her folk!" Dwalin added contemptuously, shouting at the top of his lungs.

She tries to ignore the dwarf words smoking with the side of her mouth to the Hobbit infront of her. But then another voice spoke, a voice which she could never forget either in a thousand years.

"What are you doing here, you dirty mashkil?!" Thorin growled loud, his voice echoing between the whole of the whole house.

Her intention to remain calm was shattered like a crystal glass thrown to the ground. A shiver ran down her spine and a sigh escaped her mouth. She slowly lowered her hand from her chest and the armour of indifference she had built up wavered at the mere sound of the dwarf speaking to her.

Geira looked up, finally returning Thorin's gaze. His blue eyes stared at her as cold as a winter night in a blizzard, and what she felt was... nothing.

She felt nothing, or so she told herself.

"You have not been asked for introductions, King Under the Mountain," she spit, as angry as ever.

As soon as she finished those words several elderly dwarves around the table burst into exclamations and in the blink of an eye some of them stood up and she recognised them, every single one who stood up..

She knew who they were and they knew who she was.

One dwarf in particular kicked the stool he was sitting on and slammed his two iron fists into the wooden table, making it creak under his force.

"You filthy traitor, say that again!" roared Dwalin, looking her straight in the face. “Try to say it again!”

Geira didn't have time to dwell on how much she could recognise him even after all those years, for her gaze was caught by the muscles in his arms that seemed to flare with anger, and the scars on his forearms seemed to come alive with a life of their own. So many years had passed, yet she felt no nostalgia, only a great emptiness, that was all she had to feel. Yet she had to pull herself out of that situation, for the sake of what she had promised herself.

"Sit down, Dwalin..." she murmured, brushing her fingertips over the pommel of her sword strapped to her side.

"Don't you dare tell me what I must do, you 'angûna, just breathing your air disgusts me. You should die just for daring to show your face here!"

"This is not dwarven territory..." she explained, gritting her teeth.

"As long as I'm under this roof, everything around me is dwarven territory!"

At this point, however, she could not control a grimace. "Ironic how you're watching and paying attention to my presence instead of thinking about how to take back your territory." she spit glaring up at him.

The dwarf roared, moving away from the table in one swift motion. "One order from you Thorin, and I will make her bitterly regret it! Bloody traitor!" he yelled out of himself.

Geira shifted her gaze to the dwarf king still standing, looking him straight in the eye as she waited for a silent response to the demands of the warrior dwarf beside her: and she got it.

The frown in the middle of his forehead deepened, but his eyes remained as cold, as icy, and as terrible as the ones he had looked at her with one last time so long ago.

A dominance in his gaze, an anger, a hatred that had brought her to her knees back then. A look that had drained her of all light inside, like the words that had followed shortly afterwards, the last words he had ever spoken to her.

But this one she was not begging him at his feet. If he wanted to take her life away once again this time, Thorin would have to do it by looking her straight in the eyes and fighting as equals.

Thorin had opened his mouth to give an order as she sharted to count her breath and moving her hand closer to her hip, but they both were preceded by the most unlikely voice of all, which unexpectedly defended her.

"Excuse me, but I don't think that's any way to talk to a lady." All eyes shifted to the side of the hallway, to Bilbo, some admiring, some confused, some threatening, even her owns, which grew wide eyed at such words. The hobbit stammered under that attention and linked his feet, "though, I mean... that's what you say it is.... that it is," he concluded, glancing at Thorin, "at least, not in my house. No sir!" he adjusted the braces of his trousers, more out of the discomfort he felt than anything else.

Geira let go of the hilt of her sword at her side, surprised at how the little hobbit had spoken to Thorin, perhaps because she didn't know who he was, but that small gesture of courage intrigued her, as something hadn't intrigued her in a long time. She noticed an amused look from Gandalf at the hobbit as he continued to rock back on his heels, probably expecting for Dwalin and Thorin to sit back down in their seats, but they did not.

Instead a clatter of crockery and a couple of chuckles rose from the door next the living room, intruding on the vast silence that had spread across the room, breaking the layer of ice that was growing thicker between all of them.

"Uh. uh someone has angered Master Dwalin, hold this pint brother, be very careful."

"I am careful, you're the one standing on my foot Kili!"

"Then move it, no? We're missing all the fun because of you!"

The entire room quickly turned towards the source of the noise, all but one dwarf, Thorin, who didn't take his eyes off the dwarf maid figure for a moment, and like the others, kept his attention towards the side door of the dining room.

Before Geira had a chance to wonder what was going on next door to the small dining room where the dwarves were sitting, two young dwarves appeared, two pints each in hand. One with hair as golden as molten gold, the other with brown hair, frizzy and terribly familiar.

Geira held his breath for a few seconds.

"Oh shut up Fili, you're always in the way, if you'd move over maybe I'd see why they stopped shouting too," the younger dwarf mocked his brother, raising his pints in the air to go sit in his seat.

"Surely uncle has finished," replied the other making the same movements as the brunette, "or the other burg...lady... has arrived...".

The blond-haired boy could not complete the sentence as soon as his blue eyes rested on Geira.

His mouth opened wide, causing the two beads on his moustache to sway to the side of his mouth.

The hazel-haired dwarf tilted his head to the side as he looked at his confused brother, slowly sitting back in his seat. "What is a burg...lady?"

Finally, his gaze landed on her as well, but unlike that of the dwarf still standing beside her, his open mouth soon turned into a warm smile.

"SO YOU ARE THE OTHER NEW MEMBER! WELCOME!" he yelled, opening his arms in the air, raising the two pints he still held in his hand.

Geira said nothing, remaining impassive, feeling the other brother's eyes still on her.

"WELL WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? TAKE A SIT! I ALSO HAVE ANOTHER PINT, IF YOU WANT IT !" The other dwarf invited her with a dramatic gesture of the goblet, but she did not move an inch.

“Kili…” Thorin murmured to the brown haired young dwarf, glancing at him.

“Why were you yelling like that then? And why are you still up, we were about to tell Mr Beggins how-”

“Kili,” the older of the two brothers, froze suddenly, casting a glance towards Geira's side calling his brother to attention.

Geira noticed him and casually covered the visible seal on the pommel of the sword with one hand and knew from the glittering brown eyes of the younger dwarf that he understood.

His big brown eyes widened, as did the blonde-haired dwarf's mouth. "You are a..." the dark-haired dwarf murmured as his mouth curled up in a small smile.

"Fili, Kili, be quiet!" Thorin stopped them, but the two young brothers continued undaunted, not realising that they were only making things worse.

"Oh, come on uncle, it's wonderful! It'll be all..."

Uncle.

"I said silence!" roared Thorin, slamming his fist on the table.

At the dwarf lord's growl the two brothers were astonished, opening their mouths wide but remaining as he had ordered in silence, however, casting pointed glances towards the opposite side of the room. They knew immediately that something was wrong.

Geira's hand slipped away from her pommel and she did not let them see what had caused her to hear those last words as the two young dwarves did as their uncle told them, sitting down in silence, but not stopping to look at her.

Geira looked up at Dwalin, who glanced at Thorin, who most likely replied with another glance, because he nodded in return. However, he did not fail to look at her one last time with a look full of fury.

The dwarven king narrowed his eyes slightly before he turned his attention to the sorcerer once more in complete silence.

"I want her to leave," he said emotionlessly.

"I am afraid it can't be possible," replied Gandalf calmly, as he returned to his seat.

"I won't let her stay here. I won't let her stand around my company, and put them in danger by only her presence," he growled low, talking as if she wasn't there listening. "I don't trust her! And I don't trust anything she says!" Thorin retorted seriously, not once looking at her face.

Geira clenched a fist, trying to keep her composure, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

How dare he speak of trust? Him of all people, when it was he himself who had betrayed hers. How dared he!

She gritted her teeth as a blind fury clouded her vision.

Gandalf remained silent for a few moments, observing the king of all dwarves before replying.

"You will have to, I did what I thought was right and calling her back from exile is the right choice," he explained.

"The right choice?" resumed Thorin, his blue eyes twinkling menacingly "And how, shall we hear?"

Gandalf gestured with his hand towards Geira, inviting her to speak with a movement of his head; thirteen heads turned towards her, and even Thorin laid, finally, his eyes on her face.

For a moment his gaze alone made her flinch, making her eat back words she had not yet spoken. And yet, she had to say them. For herself, for her father, for her one hundred and seventy years of exile and for all the pain she had to go through because of that damn dwarf who was staring at her. She swallowed up her anger and her vision slowly became clear again.

"I am here, to fulfil my oath," she explained, looking the dwarf king straight in the eye.

A thin chill spread through the room, seeping into the bones of the newcomers; Bilbo, however, watched the scene in curiosity, struggling to understand. Perhaps now he would receive the answers he had been waiting for since the beginning of that exhausting evening.

A dull clatter echoed through the room, the sound of a cup slamming against the wooden table.

"This is too much!" roared Dwalin as he pulled himself up onto his seat again. "One word from you, Thorin, and I will rip her head off her shoulders, as I should have done years ago!"

Thorin didn't answer; he stood up, continuing to look her straight in the eyes as if what she had just said was none of his business at all.

"Your oath?" he asked her calmly, too calmly. With a couple of strides he approached her, his fists clenched and his jaw contracted. "Your oath is worthless now. It was broken long ago. Your words, your oath are nothing more than a pile of cold ash," he began growling low.

She almost dug her nails into the skin of her hand.

"It is a lifetime oath, you were there when I had sworn it," she addressed him as calmly as he had.

Thorin's jaw clenched a second time and his breathing became irregular.

"And I was there when you broke it," he uttered a low growl. "I saw you break it, you did it before my eyes..." he added contemptuously.

A pang of pain cut through her chest as everything that had happened that day appeared in her head. She seemed to see his gaze again, to feel the tears running down her face, to feel her heart being torn from her chest. She seemed to see her world burning before her eyes, her life burning before her eyes, and then... the exile.

The exile to which he had condemned her.

"I don't want to keep my oath for you if that's what you're worried about, King Under the Mountain," she spit staring directly into his eyes.

"I don't care why you want to keep it, I don't need you to keep it!" Thorin shouted at her, roaring out of his mind. "Your words mean nothing to me, a'lâju Mahal!”

A scraping of a chair followed the dwarf lord's words. "Thorin..." whispered Balin, but Thorin was as unstoppable as a blazing fire.

"You have no place among us, you have no honour, you have no name, you have no clan, you are nothing!

Your oaths were broken when you turned your back on us! Your blood is as tainted as your father's!"

For Geira that was the final straw. He shouldn't even dare to mention his father, shouldn't even try, king or not! Oath or no oath, he had no right.

Her hand tightened on the pommel of her sword. This time she approached him, with a couple of strides. She looked down at him as words began to pour out of her mouth like a flood.

"Then let Dwalin cut off my head now, this instant, for I assure you, Thorin son of Thrain, that I would rather be buried underground than fulfil the words I spoke to your kin years ago!" she retorted mercilessly. "If I could, I would retreat them one by one!"

"Be quiet, traitor!" he yelled at her, slamming his fist on the wall next to him.

"ENOUGH!" the darkness fell over those present before Geira could reply; they all fell silent at the power unleashed by Gandalf, who now stood menacingly over them, glowering. He glared down at them, a gesture that made them feel almost smaller than usual. Almost. For, as certain as the sun rising in the east, dwarves were not so easily frightened, not even if the subject in question was a wizard.

"You dwarves and your stubbornness! You will bring us to ruin before we even begin our journey! Geira will come with us. If I say her presence is essential, then it is essential! Her reasons do not matter to me as they should not matter to any of you!"

"It does matter," Thorin's deep voice rose from the silence that had enveloped his companions. "You cannot ask us to trust her, Gandalf. What she has done is..." the dwarves' attention shifted from her to Gandalf again.

"I know of it, but I ask you for the sake of this quest to leave old grudges aside; otherwise, we will not get very far if you continue to quarrel. When we reach the Lonely Mountain..."

Gandalf froze for a moment averting his gaze to her for a moment and then back to Thorin again. "Geira will accompany us there and then help us to reclaim it and th-"

"Then I will leave, if that is what you wish for Thorin Oakenshield," she concluded, giving a glance to his hand still on the wall next to her.

Thorin raised an eyebrow and slowly began to back away a few steps returning to his seat. "It is what I wish for as of now, for you to leave us, and that will not change," he stated, casting a glance at her hair, so short that it showed her neck, and her shoulders and part of her hear. The same length she had when he saw her for the last time.

"I don't want it to change..." she answered back as after a long time she felt ashamed again of those short locks.

The cut he gave to her.

And that was what they were for, to make her disgusted with herself, and in the absurdity it had been her choice to cut them so much that she had scratched her scalp the first time she had done it. She had cut every single lock and braid, counting them one by one as well as the short sideburns on the side of her face, shaving as short as she could the side of her head, leaving her right side a bit longer than nothing.

And with a last disgusted glance of Thorins on her head the discussion stopped.

Geira bit her tongue, lowering her gaze, and after that long wait, accepted a chair that the Hobbit gently offered her with a smile on his face all the while the chatter that had taken place before her arrival resumed.

But the grave atmosphere continued to permeate the walls of the room.

Nor did the tense mood change when everyone's attention turned to the Hobbit.

Geira wondered if his stammering was from the bewilderment of the various news stories, or his actual way of speaking: probably the first option. She saw him frown, countless wrinkles forming on his forehead as he tried to figure out what kind of trouble they were getting him into. She felt tremendously close to him at that moment: she would have gladly walked through the round door to get away from there, but she had promised Gandalf that she would stay. She had promised herself and her father; no more running, no more hiding. It was time to show everyone that she was not what they said she was, she had never been.

She paid no particular attention to the various explanations Gandalf and Thorin gave Bilbo, but it was when they handed him the long contract that her attention was caught again. She saw the hobbit intent on reading it, concern palpably making its way into his thoughts and gestures.

"Incineration?" he asked incredulously, unfolding the parchment better; perhaps he was convinced he had read it wrong. "...I'm going to faint.... " he said, his voice uncertain and trembling.

"Think of a furnace with wings: a flash of light, searing pain, and poof! You are nothing more than a pile of ash!" began Bofur, looking out of the doorway where she sat.

Bilbo lost all colour in his face, turning pale, too pale. It sounded like an alert to Geira; she held her breath until the other fainted, falling to the green carpet like a sack of potatoes.

Had his courage in speaking to Thorin been a flash of courage, then?

It was only then that they all sprang to their feet and tried to reach him, but in doing so they created an immense confusion, whereupon Gandalf ordered them all to go outside for some air. Dwalin and Nori helped him to lift Bilbo up and bring him to his senses, while Geira, again on Gandalf's advice, fumbled around in the kitchen to make him a cup of tea, trying to do as little damage as possible. She risked, for example, to spill the water from a nice blue and yellow cup, plus splash the boiling water from the teapot all over the place. Cooking in a real kitchen, that was something she hadn't done in a long time, as well as tinkering with this kind of fine crockery. She adjusted her black armguards and with a sharp movement of her hand and rolled up her sleeves a bit. She completed the laborious mission, delivering the drink to the owner of this house who, in the meantime, had woken up and was sitting in the living room in a comfortable armchair.

As soon as he heard her coming, he followed her every gesture with watchful eyes, until she broke the silence, handing him the cup full of aromatic tea.

"Your gaze has not ceased to follow me since I crossed your threshold, Bilbo Baggins; I have a feeling you have many questions for me," she told him, trying to force a smile and be as friendly as she could be.

It was all so difficult.

"Well, I... " he was stunned, not knowing how to continue, perhaps embarrassed at being caught in the act. He watched her in silence as she found a place by the lit fireplace, resting her back against the side of it. "Well, you... you're like them, aren't you?"

"A dwarf?" she asked him in turn, hinting at a smile at such innocence.

He nodded his head, passing the hot cup through his hands. "But, well, I had heard that dwarf women... they had..." The hobbit froze suddenly and fell silent, passing his gaze quickly to her face just above.

A sigh escaped her and she decided to tell him a half-truth.

"I cut them off a long time ago..." she explained hastily, but without ever trying to offend him in any way. She took a breath, trying to find an excuse in her head that would satisfy his curiosity. "A sign of... mourning..." she murmured.

It was not the whole truth.

Bilbo looked at her carefully, trying to see in those black eyes all the suffering they concealed; and suddenly his mind asked so many questions that it became involved: how long had it been since he had felt so interested in someone? He had kept to himself as much as possible, letting those four walls envelop him like a warm, soft blanket, in a slight torpor that had been shattered by the arrival of the dwarves. And Geira's.

His curiosity got the better of him, and he could not keep his mouth shut, not even putting the cup to his lips and sipping the hot tea.

"M-may I ask you another question?" he asked her, watching her eyes gradually lose themselves in the flames of the fireplace. "Is it true what they told you earlier? Those names they refer to you... are they true?"

"Are you afraid I will stab you in your sleep?" she answered him piquantly, raising an eyebrow.

Bilbo cursed himself, cursed him and his curiosity Tuc.

"N-no... no..." He was about to apologise when the girl shrugged, evasive.

"I'm exiled, it's true, but a traitor... that... no... no, never…” she looked again into the fire, which was crackling quietly before them. "I am here for one purpose only, and to keep a promise I made, long ago, far too long ago..." she murmured, turning back to him: curious but respectful grey eyes in deep, haunted black ones.

"You all have a purpose, a mission in this whole thing... I...I am just a hobbit, I am not what you all think I am..."

Geira watched as the hobbit's fingers held the cup and his gaze suddenly clouded over.

These were good questions he was asking himself, yet Gandalf believed in him, and the dwarves in the other room believed him more than they did with her, one of their own kind.

For a few moments he reminded her of a young dwarf lady in a large luxurious room in a distant mountain years and years ago wondering what she wanted to be in life.

Slowly she approached him, kneeling beside his green armchair and resting her hands on the armrest.

"I think you will only find out if you come with us; there is more to you than meets the eye, Bilbo. I saw it before, and... even if you don't see them, they're there, they're always there," she told him gently, marvelling at her own words.

Why was she talking to him like that, in that tone, as if she knew him? As if another person, as if he was interested in her opinion, perhaps because she hadn't spoken to someone like that in months. Still, it wasn't enough of a justification, but Geira found herself continuing.

"The journey will be fraught with danger, from outside and within the Company. That will take courage, but also a deep fear of the unknown to do what we must do. Because what we will find on the other side of the known world could be anything… or nothing. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to come with us.”

"Danger… within... the Company?"

Geira was about to answer, but their eye contact was interrupted by the arrival of the wizard, who had come to make sure of his friend's health.

"Excuse me," the dwarf-woman took her leave of the two, leaving them alone to talk; she fastened her cloak, but as soon as she placed her hand on the door knob, Bilbo's voice reached her.

"Thank you, miss Geira," he said.

“You can call me Geira” she answered, turning her head to the small hobbit sittin on the armchair.

H just nodded, looking at her with big eyes before shifting his attention to the cup in his hands

She turned, seeing a tense but grateful smile on his lips; she half-smiled as well, opening the door and stepping out into the light night breeze.

She had to calm her nerves, she had to calm down in order to regain her self-control and her coolness, which had been severely tested by the events of the evening: from an inside pocket of her cloak she took out her long white wooden pipe; from another, she took out her pipe-weed. Shortly afterwards she was blissfully smoking, sitting on the bench just outside the door; the long puffs produced small clouds that dispersed in the air: she followed them with her eyes until they disappeared, while her mind was lost in the meanders of her twisted thoughts. Did Bilbo feel out of place? And she, what was she to say? Of course, she had known from the beginning, from the moment Gandalf had introduced himself to her in that village of Men, that this would be anything but a walk in the wood: too many prejudices hovered among the dwarves, including herself, too many things left unsaid.

She felt like a flower in the frost, or perhaps she was the frost.

She shook her head, sucking in another breath that made her think better: she was there for a good reason, she had explained it to Bilbo; she just had to concentrate on that and that was it. It mattered little if they ignored her, if they did not speak to her along the leagues they had to travel, or if they were suspicious and indifferent. She would let them, their gazes should slide over her like water over her skin, she should just... just end those years.

What the wizard had told her had been gnawing at her for weeks. The likelihood of a hope, that if she fulfilled her oath perhaps, if she didn't die in the process, she would restore her name and she could... return home. But the real question was, did she want to go home and why was she still holding on to a broken oath?

"Are we interrupting?"

A young voice shook her from her outcast thoughts, finding one, or rather two young dwarves beside her... They were the two who had tried to convince Thorin to include her in the group - Fili and Kili, if she remembered correctly, the ones who had figured out what she was, who she was... Thorin's nephews. Two princes.

She took the pipe from her mouth and a mixture of emotions stirred in her chest, a desire to drive them out mixed with the urge to ask them to stay.

They were waiting for an answer to the question, she realised only after she found two pairs of puzzled eyes, waiting.

"Depends on what you want," she replied cautiously.

She didn't like the answer much, but the two stood there, undaunted. The black-haired dwarf with a youngster’s stubble sat down beside her, not waiting for an invitation; although he sensed Geira's suspicious glances, he did not pay heed to them. He took out his pipe and, after lighting it, squatted down more on the bench, puffing out small clouds of smoke.

"We just wanted to share some tobacco with you, nothing else," he insisted, sketching a brief smile.

"But maybe I don't want to share," Geira replied stubbornly.

The boy widened his eyes and looked at her almost displeased. Geira scolded herself, perhaps that wasn't the right way to go: they were her companions now, and she should at least try not to pick a fight with them. Yet it was proving so complicated, and the second boy's blue eyes didn't make it easy for him at all.

The nephews... the sons of…

"You should, if you don't want to isolate yourself before we leave..." the blond-haired, bearded dwarf attacked her: even in the moonlight she could see his blue eyes shining; so familiar it hurt.

Her fingers gently touched the inlaid hilt of her long sword, with which she never parted, seeking some form of strength, courage or, why not, peace of mind.

She forced himself not to let the acidity of his words show, "I thought I was already an outcast before I left, Master Dwarf. And forgive me, but I still don't know your names, which doesn't seem fair since you know mine."

The one sitting next to her laughed, throwing back his head, "You are right, forgive us, but the circumstances before did not allow us. I am Kili, this is my brother Fili, we are the sons of Vili and princess Dìs,"

Sons of Dìs.

A bite in her stomach made her pipe clench in her hand and suddenly her chest became incredibly heavy. The sons of Dís, Princess Dís.

How many years had passed? Had it really been that long? Had time around her really begun to move so slowly that she did not know how many years she had lived that life?

They were kids, but they were older than she had been when everything changed.

“Very well, then, Fili and Kili…” she murmured under her breath.

Geira remained silent and tried to calm her heartbeat after the latest information she had received. She sucked in another puff of smoke realising that there was, in fact, no more tobacco; she cursed silently and wiped it off, then put it back in her pocket. She wrapped herself a little more in her cloak as a gust of air penetrated her heavy clothes, fit for travel.

"Not very talkative, are you? Yet with the hobbit you spoke, I heard you!" asked Kili, sitting too close.

"You are talkative for both of us, young prince," she said, his eyes widening for a moment and then narrowing to slits, unexpectedly suspicious.

Geira caught herself explaining before the situation escalated. "You called Thorin ‘uncle’ earlier; I do not possess magical powers, if that is what you fear,"

"I didn't think so. But I am surprised that you called me young: yet, you do not seem as old as Balin, or Dori or Master Oìn..."

This time it was Geira's turn to smile. She barely lifted a corner of her lips, but it was enough for Kili: if only he had known.

"Looks can be deceiving: to me, you are certainly quite young, just boys."

"Then how many..."

His brother Fili interrupted him forcefully, "The sword, where did you t-"

"Lads, please return; the hobbit has made up his mind," Balin interrupted Fili's question, and allowed Geira to avoid answering uncomfortable questions to say the least.

The old dwarf gave her a brief but penetrating glance, but he did not bother to ascertain whether she was following him or not, so Geira opted to stay out there a little longer, alone; she left the door to Bag End half open and, from the confusion that followed, deduced that Bilbo had denied her help. Part of her felt terribly sorry and sad: she had accepted the fact that she would be leaving in the company of dwarves who hated her, but the torture seemed less heavy, knowing that a face less hostile than others would be at her side. She sighed loudly, trying to catch screams, reproaches or furious, stubborn phrases, but her ears met with the silence that reigned in the house; curious, she got up and, without making the slightest noise, looked out of the door to peek inside. She recognised Thorin's broad back covered by a fur cloak, his long, neatly wavy hair falling past his shoulders; he was leaning against the fireplace in the hall, where she had been standing before while everyone else was standing around him.

A melody sung with his mouth closed emerged from the silence; then his voice, deep and warm, filled the room, spreading through the air like perfume.

Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away, ere break of day

To find our long-forgotten gold.

Geira held her breath, melody from the very first notes, but.. the words, they were different from what she remembered. She frowned but then stop to worry and started to listen as Thorin's voice passed through her ears and went straight into her heart. She felt a strong grip on her chest, as if some invisible hand had tightened around her heart; those words tasted of something long forgotten, of longing for something lost. They tasted of home, of family. Her mind played the terrible trick of making her see again the places she had walked in Erebor as a child: squares, streets and alleys, palaces full of gold, stables, armouries... and then dwarves walking, working, children running and screaming. All this had died with the city, swallowed up by the terror of the dragon, and she had not had the chance to see it one last time. Soon, Thorin was not the only one singing; the others joined him, singing the last verse that reminded them of the same feelings.

The pines were roaring on the height,

The winds were moaning in the night,

The fire was red, it flaming spread,

The trees like torches blazed with light.

The song ended, but the sadness lingered on. Geira drew back quickly, returning to the embrace of darkness, her long-time friend; far from prying eyes, she wiped away the tears that had mockingly escaped her lashes, forming a small furrow on her rosy cheeks. She blinked several times to squeeze out more tears and breathed deeply, trying at the same time to calm down and listen to the king's instructions for the next morning's departure.

"Try to get as much rest as possible; Gandalf will show us to our quarters..."

There followed a great commotion, a sign that everyone was gathering their knick-knacks: as she did not want to show himself in such a pitiful state, she decided to wait outside; perhaps, with the favour of darkness, no one would notice the signs of crying.

As expected, the others came out, dark in face; they glanced at her in passing, then disappeared down a path towards a small inn. As soon as the last of them, Ori, was out of sight, she went into the house, looking for her bow, which she found where she had left it, leaning against the wall of the small kitchen. She took a quick glance around, noticing the cleanliness and order that once again reigned supreme, as if nothing had happened. It was indeed a fine home, fit for someone who loved his life and would not change it for all the gold in the world.

She secured her bow to her back, picked up her quiver, and hoisted it over her shoulder. She reached the hall with great, heavy strides, but froze when her eyes fell upon the long contract written by Thorin and countersigned by Balin on the footstool in front of the chair. With a knot in her throat, she saw that the place for Bilbo's signature was spotless, empty. She sighed again, brushing it with her fingers.

She felt guilty: it was she who had warned him of what lay ahead, who had told him that she would not blame him if he refused, and that she, too, might leave the Company to its fate; so when he had thanked her, had she already decided in her heart not to take part? She ran a hand through her short hair, touching every lock from her forehead to the back of her neck.

"He will come, do not fear," her left hand ran quickly to the scabbard, drawing the sword she carried at her side; it was only when she was in a defensive position that she recognised Gandalf, who had entered without her hearing him. He walked towards her, his hands clasped behind his back and the usual sardonic smile always on his lips; he watched her for long moments, with those blue eyes that could dig into you, until they read your soul. And Geira, in her heart, was afraid of it.

"That contract will be signed very soon," he insisted, now closer to her.

"'Are you so convinced? The young hobbit wasn't convinced, I've seen that kind of look too many times, from young soldiers, recruits, and even head guards," almost without realizing it, she found himself again brushing against that yellowed paper, and those handwritten characters of those who had once been part of her world.

"Oh, I hope so! But, usually, my convictions always turn out to be correct!"

"Like me coming here?" she said directly as she looked up at him.

Gandalf took a deep breath, tilting his head down slightly to keep it from slamming into the ceiling. "That is the uncertainty that, though you will not believe me, has plagued me these many weeks," he explained quietly. "I will not hide from you that I thought you were not coming.”

"I didn't want to," Geira admitted. "I waited in Aldburg for as long as I could," she concluded, smoothing out the traveling bag on her shoulder with a movement of her shoulder.

The wizard nodded his head before speaking. "I see. What made you change your mind?"

At that unexpected question Geira stiffened all of a sudden. She had spent weeks in the room of the inn in the small village in the kingdom of Rohan, mulling over the offer the wizard had made to her, and up until a fortnight ago she had been more than sure that she would not participate in the expedition. Why should she, why should she accept what Gandalf had told her outside that inn as true. He knew nothing of what was to come, and yet the prospect he held out to her was too much even for a hardened soul like hers.

He could revoke the exile, you could go back home, fulfil your oath and be free, Geira. Isn't it what you want? Being free again?

"Because I don't want to die like this, in the dirt of a Men’s village with an invisible chain wrapped around my chest ... I don’t want to be bound to him anymore, I want his nephews to see their home,they are the new hope for Durin’s folk" she explained hastily, speaking like a dirge she had learned by heart.

"And not him?”

She looked up to Gandalf . “Would you ask this to a victim of an executioner? Or to a leftover wife of a soldier?”

“It depends on how much the victim cared for the executioner, and vice versa,” he explained with a soft voice.

For Geira it was like receiving a punch in the middle of her sternum; she felt a sudden urge to shout out her frustration, her anger, to give vent to the rage she had kept jealousy inside her all evening. He knew, Gandalf knew, yet he dared to say that to her, if it was to achieve a goal of his as he had already seen him do, it would not work this time, not with her.That was the point of no return for her; controlling her tears was almost impossible, as was not taking the sword from the hilt and pointing it at the wizard, even though she knew what would happen.

Furious, she began to tremble, looking the wizard straight in the face and finally and, after months, asked him the question that was eating her alive.

“Why did you want me to come?!” she growled “You have warriors, you have clever dwarves and useful ones. Why did you come to me, and do not tell me you did it for me!” she nearly roared.

As he had done for the rest of the evening, Gandalf remained silent for a few seconds, watching her. He did not get angry or upset, but he looked at her in such a way that everything around her seemed to grow cold and sad and for a moment she felt the same way.

“Because you have to fulfill your oath,” he told her again.

“I did not intend to fulfill it! That oath was broken long ago as was the one that he swore to me! Stop lying to me! ” she insisted, pleading with him with her eyes.

He owed that to her, an answer a simple answer, she was not asking more. She just wanted to know why Gandalf wanted her to torture heself, why he wanted her so bad in that Company why he cared that much that forced Thorin to accept her as a member of his Company.

He sighed softly, smiling sadly with the side of his mouth “I didn't, I did it for the executioner, for the warrior, for the king...”

Geira parted her lips, astonished but quivering with anger; unexpectedly she smiled, a sad smile, without a hint of joy painted on her face. “You know Gandalf, now I understand why you lied to me, because if these are the real reasons, you know I'm sure I would have turned down your invitation back then.

And without saying anything more she turned and walked out of the rounded green door.

She left the hobbit’s house behind her, following the same path the others had taken, passing other green mounds - hobbit dwellings - and finally resting at the inn where the whole company was already staying, but still awake. And she would know that that night, like many others, she would not find rest, because a question had begun to arise, a question about a story she had been telling herself for too many years: was she really only doing this for herself? Yes was the answer, because if it were otherwise she would rather die by his hand than go through it all again. To feel again. To be betrayed again.

The flames burned up to the sky. The fumes came out of every window from every balcony from every hole in which they found a passage. The screams rose high in the air and thundered in the valley below her. The yellow and blue fabrics danced a dance of death and destruction as they walked out the shattered marble door. Children clung to their parents' necks in fear. The women and men wept as they watched the bodies scattered on the door under the rubble as they were pulled away by those few who had not yet been gripped by grief.

The once green pines and grass on either side of the mountain had become a heap of ash and coal.

Her tears would not stop flowing, her armor had become heavy as a boulder that prevented her from moving.

Then a desperate scream under the hill where she was about her came to her ears making her almost fall to her knees under the weight of her helplessness and guilt.

His formerly desperate blue eyes turned to pure amazement as they landed on her.

One scream, one last scream before the realization of what would happen as she watched her heart burn in the rubble with her oaths and with the one dwarf who possessed it.

"I told you coming here would be a waste of time!"

"To hire a hobbit, where did you get such an idea?!"

"I did not think such a small body could possess so much..."

"Stubbornness, Oìn?"

"Well, why would he help us if he doesn't even know us?" noted Bofur, returning to light his pipe with a tinderbox and sitting down better on the window sill.

"Gandalf promised us the hobbit would accompany us; and if he said so, we must trust him."

"How about a bet, then? Come on, Nori! What do you say?"

There began a long chatting that involved them all, those who bet for or against Bilbo's arrival by the next morning. The commotion that permeated the small room of the inn, where they were to sleep, allowed two dwarves to move into the corridor, away from prying eyes and ears.

"What do you think, laddie?" asked the older dwarf, smoothing his long white beard.

The other sighed wearily, the ever-present wrinkle in the middle of his forehead more than worth a thousand words; even after he had removed his heavy cloak and remained in his long blue tunic covering his breeches, his figure was imposing and commanded awe and respect.

No matter how hard Balin tried, he still found it hard to believe that this dwarf, a child, who later became a young boy, would become king so soon, faced two major battles that had taken everything from him and with which he had to deal every day, every night; the old dwarf knew this for sure: not even in his dreams was Thorin Oakenshield free, safe from rancour and remorse.

"I think this mission has started under the worst of auspices: I wonder..." he paused, not quite sure what to say next.

"Whether we should proceed?"

The king nodded, but his gaze was far from convinced, lost in thoughts unknown to most, but intuitable to Balin; or, at least, most of the time. But, to be on the safe side, he decided to broach the subject calmly, one step at a time.

"Don't distress yourself about the hobbit: if you hadn't beckoned to me and brought me here, I would have placed a bet in his favour, you know?" he gave a half-smile, but that did not relax his companion’s tense features, quite the contrary. He made a contemptuous sound, halfway between sceptical and desperate.

"Dwalin was right: it was a waste of time coming here. It was folly to believe in his help; but even without him, we must proceed. No, it's not his presence I'm worried about... no... not him."

Here was the raw nerve, the sore point: just as Balin had imagined; it was not the thought of the failed burglar that plagued him.

"Thorin..." he began, laying a hand on his forearm. But as soon as he did, the muscles under his shirt twitched and the old dwarf was stopped with a raised hand and a grim look.

Seeing him in that state did not help Balin either, after all: after all, he was like a son to him. And fathers were always distressed when their children were not calm and happy.

"No, Balin. I don't want to talk about it," was his curt reply; and no matter how much the elder dwarf insisted, he would not be heard. His king's pride was mightier than reason, which struggled to prevail: for if he had even tried to think, Thorin would have understood; but stubbornness and anger blinded him.

Balin sighed loudly and shook his head, but he hoped in his heart that this journey would bring other victories than the lost pride of the dwarves.

Dawn came too soon, and continuous yawns surprised Geira as she rinsed her face with cold water and then strapped the sword to her side, but first she pulled it from its sheath, examining the blade for new scratches. Daylight broke over it, sending blinding glints down the walls: her hand stroked the inlaid and worked hilt, which gave the sword its name, more closely. Forged by her, for her alone, and branded on the hilt by... him.

That sword was her past, her present, her future perhaps. All she still possessed was that sword, all that bound her to what she had been was that sword that had allowed the two princes to know who she was and what she had been. She had managed to avoid their questions but she was sure, having seen the two princes, that they would ask Balin, Dwalin... Thorin for confirmation. And what would they answer? Was her oath really broken and she was just fighting the wind? No. She was to the death and would fulfil it, or die rather than live like this any longer. Without being able to speak a word to any dwarf.

She put the sword back where it belonged, and stopped losing herself in useless thoughts; she took a quick, final look around the room, tracing the outline of the simple wooden bed, the chest against the wall, and the windowsill, on which was a vase of fragrant lilac and yellow flowers: perfect, she had forgotten nothing. She arranged her traveling back better on her shoulder and closed the door, going downstairs; he thanked the innkeeper with a nod and a coin, then went out into the warm morning air. Outside, a riot of colours and scents invaded her, leaving her stunned: everything was so wonderfully green, and as the evening before she wondered what life could be like there.

"Good morning!" Kili's smiling face took her mind off her pesnier again, just like the night before in every way.

He stood in front of her, crunching a stick of beef jerky between his teeth, soon joined by his brother Fili, who had two in his mouth. "Come, we'll show you your pony," he said.

"My Pony?" she asked, incredulous.

With a gesture of his head, Fili invited her to follow them, or rather to follow her younger brother, who had already started walking with his arms behind his head. They took her to the back of the inn, where three animals stood in a large enclosure. Kili opened the wooden gate and pointed out the pony, a female with an entirely white coat, tame and quiet: Geira approached her, stroking her gently; she neighed, appreciating the gesture and making her new mistress smile. From the bag she took out a red apple and handed it to her, watching her devour it voraciously: yes, she liked it, she admitted; and it would be a good companion for the journey.

"Thanks, lads" she said with a smile turning towards the two brothers.

The dwarves bowed their heads in response, finishing lacing up the last of their bags of supplies, then dragged their steeds out of there, where the others were waiting for them; Geira followed, not receiving any greetings from the other members, just a deep silence, making her clearly remember what the others thought of her. Even the smile on her lips vanished in the blink of an eye.

Without a word, she hoisted herself up onto the saddle, settling in better. When they were all still and ready, Thorin cast his gaze over them all, including Gandalf, as if seeking some support, some security... or fear.

He made no speech, there was no need: they all knew what they were getting into, what the risks and dangers were, but they were ready; they were going to regain their homeland, there was nothing nobler than that,

their hearts were for their home. They were for Erebor: and they would hardly be discouraged or lose the purpose of their journey

The king turned his pony, leading it along the streets of Hobbiton, followed by the others.

Geira did not look back, but kept her gaze fixed ahead, her heart a little heavy and a little relieved, she could not quite explain why. She remained silent as they left the city and entered the large clearing lined with huge old trees, thinking with regret of the sort of friendly figure who might have cheered her journey and comforted her when all seemed lost. Who knows, perhaps Gandalf tended to overestimate himself a little too much, if he believed that his convictions always turned out to be right and positive …

"Wait!"

"Wait!"

"Wait!"

A familiar voice brought her to a halt, and so did the others; she turned swiftly in the saddle, hardly able to believe her eyes: Bilbo Baggins had just stopped beside Balin's pony, exhausted from his long ride; he caught his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow as he held out the contract to the elderly dwarf with one hand, claiming to have signed it. As soon as Balin verified the authenticity of the signature - a gesture that Geira found amusing anyway - he announced that he was welcome to Thorin Oakenshield's company; applause and whistles of welcome followed, interrupted by the king.

"Give him a pony!"

Bilbo tried to object, as he had never ridden a pony before, but Kili and Fili cleverly hoisted him up; Geira managed to catch the hobbit's eyes and, to his great surprise, he was stunned: she smiled at him, a warm and sincere smile.

And then the hobbit knew he had made the right choice.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Bad End rewrite - Harry concept

-

Harry flipped through a thick old leather bound book, labeled ‘curses and gods’ since he was young he had wondered why his eyes turned red when got angry or his emotions ran high. he wondered why when his eyes turned red an urge to spill blood pushed through his mind. and after confronting his father about it, he finally knew why.

a blood curse, cast on James when he angered one of the fairies on neverland however many years ago, and cursed him. it would be passed down from James to whoever he created, meaning Harriet, Harry, and Cj were all born with the curse.

his father didn't bother telling him the name of the curse, only where he had gotten it from and the type of curse. and after confiding in FG she had told Harry where he might find that type of curse.

in the very book he was flipping through.

“blood curse, blood curse, blood curse-ah” he stopped at a very old and worn down page that had the words ‘Blood curses’ “there we go” he muttered trailing his finger down the pages until he landed on the words ‘red eyes’

he started at the beginning of the paragraph, sighing to himself as he settled in for a few minutes of reading from how much this one curse took up the page.

‘the victim under the curse will suffer from intense feelings of rage and insanity and their eyes will flash red, becoming completely red if they let the rage or madness overcome them. during these bouts the victim will get the urge to hurt and possibly kill depending on the severity, the victim may possibly hear voices, telling the victim to kill among many other things, those who have been under this curse say the voices tell them to spill blood. they say sometimes the voices are angry, sometimes sad, sometimes chaotic, sometimes helpful, but they always want one thing; Blood.’

Harry took a deep breath, well, the only thing that matched him was the red eyes, and the slight madness, even back on the isle since he was a kid he was a little mad, i mean....he did try to get tick tock to bit his hand off then when the croc didn't he tried to cut it off when Uma stopped him. but he did NOT have constant voices in his head telling him to kill...well...other than when he got way to into a fight. he continued to read, pausing as he read the small note at the bottom of the paragraph

‘victims also reported heightened strength, speed, agility, sight, and increased fighting ability's, even if the victim had no know-how of combat prior to fighting’

Harrys mind flashed back to when he fought Davy on the isle, how once Davy had mentioned Uma, Harry felt something snap and red incased his vision, he had done things he didn't know he could do even after he started sparring with (y/n) and Lonnie. he remembered lifting Davy off his feet by just pressing his arm to Davy’s throat, something that he had never really been able to to. 

he trailed his eyes back up, heart stopping as he reached the title of the curse he had found that matched his “symptoms”

-THE CURSE OF THE BLOOD GOD-

his eyes flashed back down to right below the title, swallowing down the pit in his throat as he read the description of the curse.

‘the curse of the blood god, also known as the madness curse. it is unknown if this curse holds a god behind its name and magic, but according to its victims, the blood god is a very real being that demands blood and death for unknown reasons. studies revealed that this curse can be passed through bloodlines’

Harry felt his leg start to bounce with anxiety as he re-read the symptoms paragraph, clenching his jaw as at the bottom right corner of the page was a small note ‘known victims of the blood god curse’

Harry took a deep breath to prepare himself, quickly flipping the page to just get it over with. his blood froze.

-known victims of the blood god curse-

the Queen of Hearts

Shan Yu

Red Skull

Wade Wilson

Harry stared at the name below ‘Wade Wilson’, feeling as if his whole world had shattered

 Captain James Hook

there were a good handful of names but Harry ignored them, he just sat in his chair, staring down at the words that he had hoped weren't true. the blood god curse...he was cursed, actually fucking cursed with something that would probably drive him fucking crazy! voices, bouts of rage and insanity, the almost constant urge to kill.

what-what if he hurt- 

Harry fumbled through the blood god curse page, relief washing over him as he found one of the final notes of the curse.

-studies reveal that victims of the curse, instead of the theory that they would hurt or possibly kill their loved ones, would instead would be pushed to protect and care for them. the victims seem to only attack those who hurt them or their loved ones, or people of whom they don't know that well. the victims revealed that around their loved ones the voices, instead of asking for blood, seemed to either quiet down, become silent, or yell praise and love at the loved one. and when the loved one was threatened, the voices yelled to protect and scream for the blood of the one threatening. it should be noted that it has been very rare for victims to become insane from this curse, as long as its taken care of properly, the victim can live an almost normal life-

Harry let out the biggest sigh of relief he had ever let out, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face, that meant he wouldn't hurt (y/n) or anyone else he cared about, instead it seemed this curse would only help him protect them if anything happened.

‘blood’

Harry froze, quickly sitting up and looking around the seemingly empty library “whose there!?” Harry called out, panic filling his voice

‘kill’ ‘blood’ ‘we want blood’ ‘do it do it’ ‘kill’ ‘blood for the blood god’ ‘stab something’

Harry covered his ears and snapped his eyes shut, tears burning in his eyes as he realized what was happening, the voices, just like the book said, asking for blood. why, why now?! why him?! after 19 years of nothing but his eyes flashing and bouts of mania all of a sudden, NOW, he hears the voices?! 

‘blood’ ‘blood’ ‘blood’ ‘blood for the blood god’ ‘do it do it’ ‘kill’ ‘stab’ ‘*crying*’ ‘*laughter*’

Harry stood abruptly and grabbed the curse book, slamming it shut and running to FGs office, she had to have an answer for this she just had to!

‘kill’ ‘blood’ ‘destroy’ ‘blood’ ‘we want blood’ ‘burn everything to the ground’ ‘destroy’ ‘blood’ ‘we demand blood’ ‘blood for the blood god’

-

*art i did a while back*

yep...the boi is cursed...along with Harriet and CJ but ill explain them in a sec. so Harrys curse was inspired by technoblades “voices” in the dream smp aka his chat that were made canon and canonically speak to him during the “story” and he is the only one able to “hear” them. it was also inspired by the madness curse he has in a “sea three go Auradon instead of C4 au fic”  

the song i linked at the top also helped inspire me to write this concept fic clip

okay so for a bit of “what happens after this fic clip” Harry goes to FG and confirms what curse he has and tells her about the voices, and asks her why they just suddenly decided to appear. and that's when FG tells Harry that the curse doesn't have its full effect until the victim knows they are cursed, and they also have to know exactly what curse they have. “its an odd rule i know but it only happens with this particular curse” she says. then she tells Harry that he can tell Harriet and CJ about the curse but there's a chance he'll risk the voices coming for them as well. 

but yeah i just wanted to...sprinkle a bit more angst in this au hehe.

anyways once again inspired by the dream smp and @disneyfan50​ “true defender” fic~!!!

[codename-adler]

Kevin Day and his Oblivious Literature Lover, pt. VII

Happy Birthday, Kevin. I’m so glad you exist. We all are. Here, I give to you friendship, love and care. You’re gonna get through this, I promise. ♥️

>> Table of Contents, TW and other parts are here!

Jean leaves

after their game against the Trojans, Kevin says goodbye to Jeremy Knox, and to Jean

Kevin feels heavy, he feels torn, and sad and scared, because he’s alone once again

and he’s afraid he’ll never see Jean again, that whatever they managed to have hear in Palmetto was their unofficial “break up” and that Jean will never speak to him again

Jean had cried, he’d begged, he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to be abandoned again, he didn’t want to be away from Kevin again

but Jeremy Knox had somehow worked his magic, and Jean had genuinely (well, as genuine as one can be after the Nest) accepted Jeremy’s offer, and even chose to move immediately to South California with him instead of waiting for the summer

Kevin hoped it wasn’t in an attempt to put as much distance between them and more because Jean was on his way to healing, even if it was away from him

they had hugged one last time, in Abby’s guest room, and poured everything they felt for each other in their embrace

they both knew things would be different from now on

they knew it would be hard, and painful

they knew the healing would be slow, that nasty things would resurface

but in that moment, they didn’t care

“Jean… Jean listen to me,” Kevin whispered in Jean’s ear. “Hell is over. You got through it. You got out. You’ll be safe, now, okay? I know- I know we have to process things… Take your time. Rely on Jeremy. Rely on your team. The Trojans are great. And I’m not just talking about Exy. Okay, Jean? You’ll be safe now. You’ll be far away from all this mess. And if there is anything, anything, Jean, you call me. I’ll be there. I don’t care why or how; I’ll be there for you, Jean.”

they held on tighter to each other, tears silently streaming down their faces

Kevin cradled the back of Jean’s head as Jean clutched Kevin’s shirt in his fist

they had to let go, they had to, and yet…

I care for you. I love you. I do. I’ll always love you.

words left unsaid, barely exchanged in a look, barely understood in their eyes

words that had never held any meaning to them, words they’d never heard, words they’d never said

they weren’t about to start saying them now, but their presence was strong

But this is goodbye, for now.

they let go

Jean leaves

Jean is gone

none of the Foxes know what’s happened, but they do feel the consequences

and it doesn’t help that their next and ultimate game is against the Ravens, at Edgar Allen, their last chance at winning Championships, at beating the odds and their nemesis

Kevin is a huge fucking asshole all week

he can’t seem to help it

he lashes out, he fights, he drinks…

he’s obsessed, he’s panicking, he’s a monster

the high of helping Jean has worn off, the high of their win against the Trojans has worn off

fear is all that’s left

Wymack has to forcefully bring him to Betsy at 6 AM when he finds Kevin at the court, having passed the whole night practicing, even after Neil and Andrew left around 3 AM

Kevin is shaking all over in his chair

Betsy doesn’t offer hot cocoa

Kevin doesn’t want to be here, never did, never will

Betsy has to thread carefully, has to approach him from the right angle

“How is Jean settling in at USC?” she calmly asks

“We’re not talking about Jean,” Kevin spits back immediately

“Okay. What are we talking about?”

“We’re not talking.”

“That’s alright. I’ll talk for a bit, then. As your designated therapist, your health is under my care as much as it is under Abby’s and David’s. What this means is, my word weights as much as theirs when it comes to who plays, and who doesn’t. Exy has been good for you, Kevin. Exy is good for a lot of you, actually. However, what my professional advice would be, in your case, is that you are to be forbidden from playing this last game against Edgar Allen.”

Kevin gasps

Before he can unleash the thousands of obscenities on the tip of his tongue, Betsy raises a calm hand to hold him off

“I won’t do that. I should, but I won’t. Ultimately, not playing would aggravate your mental state more than facing Edgar Allen and pushing yourself past your limits. You need this. You need closure. You need proof. In my opinion, it won’t solve your problems, it won’t solve your traumas, your alcoholism, your PTSD, your anxiety, your anger issues, and I’m being brief. But this is something you want to do, and I understand its importance. So I won’t be interfering.”

Kevin scoffs, uncooperative

“But hear this, Kevin: at the rate you’re going, you are not going to win this game. You’re not. You’re going to break, you’re going to lose, and then you won’t be getting back up. This? Right now? This is your point of no return.”

Kevin gapes at her

he can’t believe the words that just came out of Betsy’s mouth

not because they are cruel, or unprofessional, or harmful

it’s because they are true

Kevin finds that her words resonate in him, like the echoes of a desperate cry for help within himself

Kevin doesn’t cry, because he can’t, he doesn’t remember how to

he does however go into full-blown panic

without a bottle in his clutch 

it’s bad

it’s really bad

he hears half the words Betsy says next

“Kevin, this is a panic attack. You know this, this is familiar. Don’t be afraid of it, you are not going to die. Not on my watch. I’m going to hold you now, okay? Do I have your permission?”

Kevin nods frantically as he chokes on air

Betsy gets up to come sit beside Kevin on the couch and takes him in her arms

she buries his head over her shoulders and crosses her arms behind his back; without rocking as to not increase the nausea, Betsy begins squeezing Kevin every three seconds, raising her shoulders everytime to encourage him to breathe

“One, two, three, in, Kevin. One, two, three, out, Kevin.”

the pressure of her arms and her deep, motherly voice bring Kevin down from his attack after a good twenty minutes

“I’m going to release you now, Kevin, okay? Can I let go of you?”

Kevin slowly nods, his eyes fixated on a point behind Betsy’s back

she doesn’t even have the time to sit back down on her own chair, though, before Kevin pulls a Neil and sprints out of her office

Wymack can’t even catch up to him

he runs, and runs, and runs

his feet should take him to his dorm, to the alcohol cabinet, or even to the court, to his gear

they don’t

he stops running right in front of Jackie Hall

rationally, Kevin knows classes start at 8:30, that Jules has been getting back in class progressively, that she was slowly getting back on her feet

irrationally, Kevin fears she won’t be there, or that she will, but in pieces on the floor, or that she won’t want to see him, or that she’ll know, or that-

his feet take him inside nonetheless

in a haze, he once again faces door 418

he doesn’t realize he’s knocked until his fist meets the air when the door opens

he woke up Jules, and she looks like it; eyes puffed from sleep, bonnet half off, naked feet

“Kev? Wha- You’re here. Why are you here? Are you- Are you okay? Why are you dressed like that?”

Kevin looks down, at his Exy clothes

his Exy clothes

Shit.

“Okay, no, it’s too early for this. Come on, don’t just stand there. Go shower. I’ll be there after, yeah?” she says as she ushers him inside her dorm room

but Kevin can’t seem to move, now that he has stopped

so Jules grabs two of his fingers and pulls him inside

which then pulls Kevin out of his apathy

“I don’t- I can’t- I-,” he tries

“Do I need to call someone? Are you in danger?” Jules panics a little bit

“N-No… I- Clothes… It’s all I have…” Kevin explains with difficulty

“Oh.”

Jules locks the door behind them and goes to her bed, only to pull out a pile of clothes from under the corner pillow

she brings them to Kevin

“You left this last time you were here… I figured if you didn’t ask for it back, it’d be more useful here in case… Well… You know… That,” she explains, a bit embarrassed

Kevin furrows his eyebrows, he looks like he is on the verge of crying

he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, but if he could…

he gently takes the clothes and locks himself in the joint bathroom, without a word

Jules is left standing there, still shocked, nervous, overwhelmed…

she quickly undresses herself while Kevin is out of the room, puts on some more decent clothes that what he is used to see her in, washes her face in the tiny sink and fixes her hair for the day

she gets cold as she waits for Kevin, and pulls on a red polo sweater, the only one she has left that doesn’t need to be washed

she waits for Kevin on her bed

Kevin comes out of the bathroom at last, black sweatpants, black shirt, white socks on

he’s clutching his Exy uniform in his arms, close to his chest, close to his heart

Jules gets up to go fetch them two granola bars, the only two she has left of her oh so spare groceries

Kevin looks at it as if she’d handed him a live kitten

he gets that pained look again

“Are you sure that’s okay…?” he asks her

“Yeah, I’m sure. You need it, Kevin. Eat,” she answers him

she sits down on the floor and invites him to do the same

they eat in silence, Jules watching his every moves

Kevin barely nibbles at his bar

“Kevin… Tell me,” Jules finally speaks

and he can’t hold it in anymore

he tells her everything

everything.

from Betsy’s emergency session this morning all the way back to his mom’s death

and everything in between

Riko. The Nest. Exy. His hand. The Foxes. Thea. The alcohol. Andrew. Neil. The mafia. Jean, again, honestly this time.

everything.

it lasts for hours

or so they think

turns out the sun has barely been up for an hour when Kevin finally closes his mouth, emptied of all his bad history 

Jules has bitten the skin off of her lips, but has stayed put where she sat next to him nonetheless, through it all

after a while, breaking the heavy silence, Jules asked the only question one could ask after such a story

“What do you need, Kev?”

what did he need, indeed…

“I- Help me…” was the only answer he could think of

it chilled Juliet to her core

she couldn’t

she couldn’t do that

she was a mess

she didn’t have the strength

she was falling apart at the seams

“Kevin, I- Look at me… Look at my life… I am the last person you want help from… I can’t hold you up like that… I can’t be your anchor…”

she was on the verge of crying, too

but she could cry for real

it took her everything not to

Kevin blamed himself relentlessly

“No, no, no, no… I’m not- I just want… Someone,” Kevin tried to explain

Kevin took a deep breath, getting ready to confess

“I can’t do therapy. I can’t do it. Not alone. I just can’t. I hate is so fucking much. I can’t do it alone.”

Jules understood

her eyes widened in surprise

“You want to do… Joined therapy? With me?”

“Yes.”

“Why.”

“I can’t talk to her… I can’t talk to Betsy. I don’t know how to. I don’t even want to. But you… I can talk to you. I want to talk to you. But I can’t do that to you. We need an outlet. Hence, you, Betsy, and me… The dream team,” Kevin chuckled sadly

it made no sense

it was unconventional, unheard of

it was playing with fire, playing with their traumas

“Okay,” she said

“Okay?” he asked in disbelief

“Okay.”

---

and so they walked back to Betsy’s office, together

Betsy is quite surprised, to say the least

not that Kevin came back

but that he came back willingly, with a plan and desire to get better, and accompanied

before agreeing to Kevin’s deal, however, she has conditions of her own

“One: these sessions are to be once a week, and more if I deem it necessary, no arguing. Two: No more alcohol. You go sober or nothing of this will work. Three: As soon as this Exy season is over, you are to be put on antidepressants. Again, meds mean sobriety.”

Kevin nods, somber but willing to try

“Also: we will all sign a contract to prevent any more harm and to clarify the conditions under which these sessions are to take place. It will be a bit different, as you are not family, or a couple, but we can make this work.”

Juliet and Kevin consent

“One last thing: I will need a full session alone with you, Juliet. I have to evaluate you, evaluate if you are not a threat to Kevin’s well-being, and if Kevin is not a threat to yours. We also need to get to know each other, I’m sure you’d like to know who you’ll be dealing with, yeah? I promise I’m not usually so serious. Would that be okay with you, Juliet?” 

Juliet nods on her own, before she is hit with a heavy realization

“Ma’am- Doctor- I- I don’t have the money. I can’t. I should’ve thought about it sooner. I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” Jules apologizes

“Oh, that won’t be a problem, dear. I’m funded by the Palmetto Foxes. And believe me or not, they don’t use my services as much as they should. Right, Kevin? Besides, Kevin needs this. I need Kevin to do this. And I have a strong feeling you need this too. I assure you, money will not be a problem,” Betsy responds

“But… I’m not a- a Fox…”

“Oh, trust me, dear. You’re a Fox alright. Just not on a court.”

[thechangeling]

Out of our heads Out of our minds

So evil writer brain decided to cook up and incredibly toxic kitty fic because apparently I'm a terrible person lol. Blame @ilikebooks8 for letting this see the light of day.

The title is based on the song Out of this world by Bush.

Cw: slightly nsfw, violence, cheating, incredibly toxic behavior, beloved characters making bad choices, and implied sex.

Kit returns.

He returns to Ty with the same dazzling smile and charming witt, only now he seems to have grown even more impossibly beautiful as time has passed.

Now he's all hard lines and defined muscles and piercing sinful blue eyes that make Ty so angry he could scream.

Kit laughs and Ty wants to tear his insides out. Wants to rip Kit's heart right out if his chest just like he did to Ty. The painful gnawing rage of a betrayal that still stings after all this time. And yet still, Ty heard Kit was in danger and he came running like a man obsessed.

Ty knows deep down now matter how angry he is, he could never let anything happen to Kit. Nothing permanent anyways. Sometimes when the ache becomes to difficult to bare, Ty imagines punching that stupid smirk right off of his face. Or choking him hard enough to leave bruises. Of course Ty would never actually do such a thing. The sight of Kit in pain, any sort of pain is just too unbearable.

And that's the worst part. No matter how angry Ty gets he knows it can't last. And no matter how painful it is to be near Kit again, he still feels this unexplainable pull. This whispering in his ear to get closer and closer. To reach out and touch.

But it's stupid, and it's wrong anyways because Ty already has someone. Anush who was by his side the whole time at the scholomance and has never betrayed him. Anush who is sweet and thoughtful and gorgeous. Ty should be happy. After all, wasn't this what he always wanted? Someone to be there for him?

So he tried to distract himself from Kit by throwing himself into spending time with Anush and working the case. That's all Kit was now, just the latest problem to solve. A supernatural disaster. They would save him and stop the oncoming war and everything would be fine.

And then Kit would be gone. Blind panic teared at Ty's insides at the thought. There were these moments with Kit where they would make eye contact, or they would bump into each other in the kitchen and their fingers would brush and Ty would just desperately want to wrap Kit in his arms again.

He wanted to ask if Kit had really meant what he said that day on the beach. Sometimes when Kit stared at him with that soft sad smile on his face Ty wondered if they were going through similar things. Sometimes Ty wanted to tell him that he wished he had never met Kit either.

Kit Herondale was dangerous and unpredictable and loving him was like holding a live wire. But funnily enough the same could probably be said about Ty. Especially lately.

He felt like he was constantly in pain. Like his body ached with invisible wounds that made it impossible to breathe. The world was brutal and unforgiving, berating him with constant noise and blinding lights jabbing hot pokers into his brain. And the people with their sickly sweet smiles as they demanded he bare his soul.

But what if there was nothing left anymore? What if his soul had died with Livvy? Ty tried to cling onto the things that made him feel better. He hid away in his favorite spot, listening to his favorite music and pouring over Sherlock. Repeating the words to himself over and over again like they could pull him out of this tailspin. Ty distracted himself with Anush's sweet kisses and wandering hands as he tried to turn his brain off for once in his life.

But his soul was screaming out for another person to be the one touching him. He wanted Kit and that was infuriating. It made no logical sense. Not only was Kit responsible for breaking his heart but he also was notorious for playing fast and loose with his own life. Ty couldn't spend all his time constantly feeling like his heart was living outside of his body. Constantly in danger of being ripped open by some dark and evil thing.

Ty had everything he thought he wanted. But it still wasnt enough.

During another sleepless night, Ty found himself wandering the institutes halls. At this point he was simply just overtired. Too many nights spent worrying or studying or reading instead of sleeping. Now his body doesn't remember how to rest. Ty was far too exhausted to operate on logic or reason so he found himself standing outside of Kit's door, wondering absentmindedly how he got there.

Ty placed his hand against the door, fighting the urge to open it and walk through. He can remember the first time he waited outside of Kit's door, just like it was yesterday. He had no idea at the time why he was so drawn to the mysterious boy who had shown up at the institute after Ty had threatened him with a knife. The boy who turned out to be a lost Herondale. And honestly after all of this time Ty still couldn't explain it.

This is a bad idea, He thought to himself as he slowly turned the doorknob. This is a terrible idea. Ty, driven by pure need like fire under his skin, pushed the door open.

Kit was awake as Ty suspected he would be, sitting by the window and staring out into the night sky. Under the moonlight he was glowing. He turned around to stare at Ty, first with a look of shock, and then that same hallow desperation Ty had been seeing on Kit's face lately.

He also looked angry.

"What the hell are you doing in here Ty?" He sounded exhausted. Ty almost felt guilty in a sense. He stared at Kit for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"I don't know," he whispered, staring at the ground. "I suppose I was compelled." Ty let his gaze slowly rise up Kit's body, drinking it in.

Kit scoffed harshly. "Compelled? By what exactly, Tiberius?"

Ty looked up at Kit's face in surprise. He rarely called Ty by his full name. Ty really didn't like how it felt. Cold and distant. Ty sighed, pushing his fingertips against his collarbone and tracing it slightly.

"I don't know. I guess I just needed to know. I need to know why you left me." Ty tried not to let himself sound desperate or weak, but he had become worn down by this point. He couldn't keep up his defenses much longer.

"Why didn't you want me?" He muttered. "Why wasn't I good enough?"

And there it was. The painful truth that Ty had been avoiding. The fact that Kit had tossed him aside just like so many had before. Like Paige. Like his father. He had always tried so hard to make people happy. To live up to their expectations. But in the end it didn't matter how hard he tried, sometimes there was just no pleasing certain people.

Sometimes it seemed like there was no point in being good and following the rules if nothing ever changed. If Ty always ended up in the same place. If people always saw him as a problem or an inconvenience or worse, then he could just live up to their expectations. Be selfish and cold and cruel because no amount of begging and smiling was going to earn him respect.

Kit glared at him in shock. "Who the hell do you think you are? Coming in here to play mind games with me?" Before Ty could register what was happening, Kit was storming towards him and shoving him up against the wall with a loud thunk.

The feeling of Kit touching him again after all this time was dizzying. Kit was shorter then him so he needed to crane his neck a little to look up at Ty, which meant that his throat was completely exposed for Ty to stare at.

"I told you how I felt and you did nothing! You ignored me!" Kit cried. "I wanted you more then I've ever wanted anything Ty! I still do!" Tears were streaming down his face. Ty stared at Kit, completely frozen. His wrists were pinned to the wall by Kit's hands and their faces were inches apart.

Ty struggled to collect himself. "I didn't know what was going on," he gasped out shakily. "I was a mess Kit. I just had to get her back. But-." He cut himself off. It was all for nothing. Ty had lost Livvy in the end and he had lost Kit as well.

Ty shook his head. "Does this mean that you love me?" His voice sounded so far away. Like the words were being pulled from some unexpected place within him. Kit let out a soft gasp and squeezed his eyes shut before fixing his expression into a blank slate. He leaned forward slightly so that their lips were just barely touching, then gently trailed his mouth across Ty's cheek to his ear.

Ty felt him smirk slightly before Kit whispered in his ear. "Go to sleep Ty. Go back to your boyfriend."

And before Ty had time to think, he was lashing out. He shoved Kit backwards as hard as he could with a snarl. Kit went flying across the room and slammed into the opposite wall. If Kit had been human it probably would have knocked him out. Ty stared in horror at what he had done as Kit clutched his ribs and groaned.

"You seriously have some anger management issues!" Kit snapped at him, glaring pointedly. Ty knew that. When he was younger he used to have fits of uncontrollable rage all the time. Words didnt come easily to him so he would hit, scratch, bite or throw whatever was closest to make people realize he was in pain. When he wanted to say "don't touch me" or "you hurt my feelings" but he just could make the words form properly, he would get angry. And then he would lash out.

Ty thought he had been getting better at managing his emotions and communicating. But there was something about Kit Herondale that just evaporated every last bit of logic and reason he had until all that was left was the urge to scream.

Ty gaped in shock, searching for the right thing to say. "By the angel Kit, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that I swear!" He pleaded. His fingers were beginning to shake and flutter at his sides. He tapped desperately against his thigh, scratching at the material of his sweatpants to try and calm himself down.

Kit just shook his head and laughed humourlessly. "Honestly Ty, we should just tell the Seelie Queen not to worry. And Janus, and all the other people who want the first heir dead. You'll destroy me just fine on your own." He gaze was piercing and ruthless.

Ty's breathing was frantic and erratic as he shook in agony. He could feel he was on the urge of a meltdown.

Kit pulled himself to his feet. He stared at Ty longingly and then smiled slightly. A genuine smile. "But honestly what a way to go. Does that answer your question sweetheart?"

Ty gasped soundlessly, his hands shaking at his sides. He fought to get a hold of himself. Kit studied Ty for a moment, then slowly began to approach him.

"Why are you here Ty? Why did you come here exactly?" Kit was speaking in a soft lulling voice as if he was trying to hypnotize Ty.

"I'm here because I miss you," Ty admitted. "It's confusing. Because I'm still mad at you. But I can't stop thinking about you." Ty felt as though he was close to crying, which was concerning because he rarely ever cried.

Only for Kit.

Kit scowled at him slightly. "You're with someone else, remember?"

Guilt instantly pierced through Ty's chest. "Yeah I know, I'm a terrible person," he said bitterly. He didn't want to admit to himself that he had been trying this whole time to distract himself from Kit. That he was using Anush. But that was technically true. Ty saw the opportunity to lose himself in a pretty boy with an honest smile who loved him wholeheartedly.

Ty thought he could forget but then here he was. All roads led to Kit Herondale.

Kit sighed and reached for Ty, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. "You arent terrible. You're spiraling. And you come to me like I can save you from yourself? Please," Kit chuckled. "I can barely save myself."

"I don't need you to save me."

Kit stared at him with an expression that was hard to place. Then he smiled, but it wasnt a kind smile. It was a satisfied, knowing smirk. Kit traced his thumb under Ty's chin then back up to his lips, forcing them to part slightly.

"You think I don't know why you're here love?" He cooed in a voice that was both soothing and alluring. You think I don't know what you're after?" Kit sighed, sounding a little worn down. "If I was a better person, a stronger person. I would tell you to leave." He dipped his hands down underneath Ty's shirt.

Ty shivered at the cold feeling against his skin. He dropped his forhead down to lean against Kit's, revealing in the contact. "Lucky for you," Kit whispered against his lips, "I'm not."

Ty felt the last string of his self control snap as he kissed Kit roughly, grabbing onto his torso and pulling him closer. Kit responded to the kiss eagerly, parting his lips for Ty and laughing deliriously as their lips met again and again.

Kit was tearing off Ty's shirt as he walked him backwards, closer to the bed. As soon as he had slid it off if Ty's body, Kit tossed the shirt aside and went back to kissing him. Ty felt his knees hit the bed frame and he fell backwards onto the soft welcoming mattress, pulling Kit down with him.

Kit kissed a line down Ty's neck to his pulse point and Ty groaned, burying his fingers in Kit's curls. He was lost in a sea of pure desperation.

"Tell me to stop," Kit whispered between kisses. Ty froze for a moment. Then he understood.

Kit was giving him an out.

Ty responded by pulling Kit even closer and letting his head fall back against the pillows.

He closed his eyes and let Kit Herondale ruin him.

The morning after was the hardest. Ty pulled himself from Kit's arms and forced himself not to look back.

And that was when he finally cried.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

WHAT THE HELL FAE! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS OMG 😭

[drazzilder]

A Hellish Encounter

By Drazzilder 

WARNING: Graphic depictions of death/murder

Chapter 39: Smile

You appear in what looks to be an abandoned and worn-down warehouse. Enji is hanging near one wall and you rush over to him. You place a hand to his face and see that almost the whole left half of his face covered in blood and he can’t open his left eye. He starts to wake up from your touch.

“(Y/N) …” he says in a weak voice.

“Enji, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

“I was called here for a hostage situation *cough* but it turned out I was going to be the hostage.”

“Let’s get you out of here, we don’t have much time.”

You try to teleport Enji away but you can’t. You start struggling more and more but nothing. You then look at the chains. They have similar markings on them as the chains Zaheer can make.

“Brilron is here?”

“Why yes, I am.”

You turn around you see the demon, his right horn still broken from the last time you saw him. Right as you are about to charge towards him, black chains start coming from the ground to attach to you. They latch on to your arms and legs and one goes around your neck. You begin to struggle but black electricity starts shocking you. Screaming and writhing in pain, you struggle to not black out but you manage to hold on when the demon stops. You’re just hanging there near Enji, breathing slowly.

“Looks like I get to take my revenge on you. Never have I been so humiliated by such a weakling! That demon of yours didn’t even have a name, how DARE you do that to me. He isn’t even a full….” Brilron starts walking towards you but is stopped when that man speaks.

“That’s enough, Brilron. Sorry about that (Y/N), it’s so hard to find demons that listen these days. I probably have been through 50-60 of them so far but none as easy to control as that demon inside of you.”

“Let him go!” You scream.

“My my… still so full of energy. It’s no wonder I picked you so long ago. I knew you wouldn’t listen to directions, you never do, that’s why I stayed here waiting for you.”

“You picked me? YOU MONSTER!” You try to speak more but you are shocked again.

“Now, that’s no way to talk to the man who raised you.”

Enji finally speaks. “He is the man that did everything to you?” All you do is nod in response. “(Y/N), that’s All for One.” He then gets electrocuted and is silent again.

“Oh Enji, you spoiled the surprise!”

“What?”

“I am All for One. I am also the man who started that government program, but I may have lied a little on it’s true purpose. It was to create the perfect new body for me. You see, this body is old and frail, but you are so full of life, I could just take it right now. But alas, that demon is in the way.”

“His name is Zaheer.” You interrupt.

“That’s right, you named him. When I found him, he was a nameless demon, a weakling. A demon without a purpose or home; a misfit that wondered the earth for millennia. It’s only because he had nowhere to go that I used him to try to create the perfect body. His power could transform a person’s body to handle my power but I didn’t take into account that you would grow attached to him. When you killed all of those scientists, I knew that my plan was working. So much power, much more than any of our predictions. How many did you kill? I think something over 2000.

“You put me inside of (Y/N) just so I could prep his body for you? You are worse than any demon!”

“Yes, that’s exactly my plan. I tried to get Brilron to speed it up but he disobeyed my orders and cursed you two. He was supposed to separate you before you fused completely but he failed. He did put on a great show, making that girl spit on him was a good touch to make you begin to fight and lose control. I’m surprised that you are back together after that curse. I wonder who helped you. It wasn’t Rei, was it?”

“Please! Stop it!” Is all you scream.

“You know, those are the same words that Adam said when my associate shot him.”

“What!?” you look at him in panic.

“What a shame too, I really enjoyed him, fun to talk to. But I needed him out of the way. He was the only one that could release the energy inside of you, and I couldn’t have that happening again. What were his final words to you? Oh, I think something like ‘Zaheer and Enji take care of him.’ Such an empty request, you can’t even take care of yourself let alone with the help of them.”

Your only response is to look down at the ground.

“It’s sad really. You know, I almost picked your brother but your will power is so much stronger than his, so much more drive and life. Your parents were struggling so much, selling one of you was the only thing they could do; I made sure of that.” He says with an evil grin “They didn’t want me to take you at first but I gave them no other option. That day, you kicked and screamed in the car as we left. You fought for days until we finally put that demon inside of you. After seeing the show you put on, I knew you were the one I was looking for. Speaking of family, how is Alan anyway? I heard he separated from your parents. He’s all by himself now. I wonder how he is handling being alone. He’s probably scared to death.”

There is silence for a while only to be interrupted by the sounds of dripping. Enji looks towards the sound to see it’s coming from you. You’re looking right at All for One, your mouth is a gape, breathing heavily as pure red energy has begun to drip from your mouth. The demonic tattoos on your arms are glowing bright red to match your piercing red eyes and spectral flames begin to flick off your body.

“(Y/N)?” Is all that comes from Enji’s mouth as your chains start melting. Once your feet hit the floor, the ground starts cracking and lava oozes up from the ground. Your boots melt with each step and your feet start burning from the energy as you walk towards All for One and Brilron.

“Oh, did I say something to make you mad? Good, let that anger drive you, let it consume you! Brilron, let’s make things more fun, shall we?”

“With pleasure.” He says as he cracks his knuckles. He starts running towards you but is stopped in his tracks. He is lifted up in the air and looks to be choking as you keep your gaze on him. You approach him and take your hand to his chest and push your claws in. The demon screams in pain as you continue your push towards his heart. Once you find it, you pull his still beating heart out and the demon collapses to the ground in a pool of blood. Enji falls to the ground as the chains disappear.

“(Y/N)? What did you do!?” Enji says in horror.

“He stood in our way so we eliminated the problem.”

“I see. You want to fight me directly. You know, I was saving some of these quirks for All Might but it seems to me that I need to use them know.”

All for One’s arm starts growing in to a grotesque form as more and more quirks start piling on top of each-other. You continue to walk towards him, slowly and still dripping with energy. He then goes to punch you and you raise a hand and a wall of lava forms to block the attack. He goes for another punch and you block again this time with a wall of ice, still heading towards All for One. This goes on for a while as you march forward, backing All for One into a corner.

He starts to panic as nothing he is doing is even landing. He goes for an even larger hit, using all of his power, but you quickly teleport to his side and punch him to the ground. He is knocked out flat on his back and you get on top of him, holding him down with ice as you keep punching his head. Each has your full power behind it. Tears begin to fly off your face as your emotions take over.

“You took everything from me! You took my childhood! You took my family! You killed my friend! You tortured me for years! I killed thousands of people because of you! You took so much from me; I won’t let you take anything else!”

Blood starts splattering as his skull caves in but your onslaught continues until there is nothing of his head left. You stand up, covered in blood and burns; your hands are fractured and bruised. Enji cautiously limps towards you, holding the left half of his face.

“(Y/N)?”

You curl down as the ground begins cracking more and the room begins the shake. The special flames around begin to grow larger and brighter as you lose control. You try in vain to release the energy but more and more of the power starts to build inside of you. You try to stand but can barely stumble as you try to get away from Enji to protect him. “RUN!” is all you manage to get out as you slam against the wall as the power begins to melt the concrete. The wall collapses as the flames around you grow more intense by the second. The ground outside the building starts to shake as the cracks grow hundreds of feet long. Enji doesn’t run away as he is watching this. He stands up the best he can and just looks at you. After what feels like forever, you hear those familiar words. “Prominence Burn…” is all Enji says in a low voice and flames begin to erupt from him towards him. You are surrounded by his flames as you scream in pain and begin to convulse on the ground. This continues for a while until Enji starts to overheat and his flames die down. Enji just looks at you and says your name.

You try to stand but stumble, still surrounded by the demonic energy. “It’s finally over. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“You need to let that energy out. You can’t hold it for that long.”

“I can’t.” You say finally standing.

“What?”

“There is too much energy flowing. I took things too far. I wish I could release it but I can’t.”

“You have released energy before?”

“This is what we feared more than anything, the energy has fused with me and taken over my body.”

“Are you going to be ok?”

“I don’t know. I feel in control now but I can’t stop it. Who knows how long I can maintain control? I need to leave before it takes over again.”

“Where will you go?”

“Any place where I can’t hurt anyone. I’m so sorry, Enji, but I have to go.”

“Wait…” Enji then walks up to you and touches you to make sure it’s ok. The energy flows over his skin and tingles but doesn’t burn him; then he hugs you as you both start to cry.

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stop this so we can be together.”

“I know.” is all Enji says while holding you.

“I don’t want to be alone again.”

At that moment you start to feel strange, a feeling you had before as a kid. You look down at your stomach and see it’s glowing gold under your shirt. Enji looks at your eyes and they are glowing gold as well while he steps back. Your head snaps back and a large red beam of energy comes out of you and the building starts shaking again. The markings on your arms begin to lose their glow as the energy leaves your body. After it fades away, your left there standing, eyes back to white, and black and red. You fall on your knees and Enji rushes to you as you pass out.

Next Chapter 

[thicctails]

Summer Of Whump Day 23 [Sick/Survivor’s Guilt]

Ω

 Crosshair cursed as Cal went limp in his arms, the boy slumping lifelessly. Omega was right behind him, her eyes slipping closed as she wheezed in pain. Both kids needed his attention, but he could only focus on one of them at a time.

 ‘Damn it! This is why I need my vode here, then we could make sure they were both getting the help they need right now.’ He cursed mentally.

 He laid Cal on the ground and pressed his hand against the boy’s stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. Part of him seethed with anger at the fact that he had given that wretched creature a quick death. Keeping one hand on the wound, he leaned over and started checking Omega over. Spots of crimson bled through her clothes, soaking into the fabric and spreading further as the seconds ticked by. The bite on her leg concerned him the most, as the animal’s fangs were quite long.

 “What happened here-!”

 A woman’s voice had his head snapping up. There was a woman and a few kids now standing before him, horrified expressions on their faces. He moved in front of the downed children, bristling with protective fury. The woman, a Togruta dressed in familiar brown robes, moved into a defensive stance, lightsaber in hand but not yet ignited.

 “Easy,” She started, raising one hand, “I just want to help them.”

 “They would not need your help if you hadn’t stolen them.” He spat venomously.

 A flash of guilt came over the woman’s face. “I know, and I’m sorry. We thought that you were working with the Empire.” She inched a bit closer, and Crosshair’s hands twitched towards his rifle. “But I can help them. If you let me, I can save their lives, but we have to be fast.”

 Crosshair’s eyes flicked towards the wounded children, mentally calculating how much medical supplies they had and if he could even carry both of them back in time to use the supplies before they passed away. His decision was made for him when Omega started shaking and sounding like she was choking. He nodded quickly and scooped Omega and Cal up into his arms. The woman and an older teenage Bothan rushed forward, grabbing the other teens who had been injured during the fight.

 “Follow me.” The Jedi said, and he obeyed without argument.

 They ran through a network of caves until finally stopping in a pristine chamber. A pool of water sat in the middle, surrounded by thick white cots. Crosshair placed each of the kids in his arms on their own cot, turning Omega over on her side. She coughed up a horrible mix of foamy saliva and stomach acid, her sides heaving as she vomited. The sight disturbed Crosshair greatly. Clones didn’t get sick, so if someone was puking their guts out, it was usually because of one of three reasons.

 One, the person had had a bit too much to drink.

 Two, they’d seen something so bad it had turned their stomach.

 Or three, the person was dying.

 Judging by how Omega hadn’t been drinking and had been face down in the dirt for most of the ordeal, that left only the third option.

 “I’m sorry I wasn’t faster ad’ika.” He whispered, rubbing Omega’s back.

 Suddenly, the Jedi was beside him, her hand pressing against Omega’s leg.

 “What’s wrong with her?” He asked.

 “The same disease that drove that animal mad is coursing through her bloodstream. I must remove it before it reaches her heart.” The woman said, closing her eyes.

 Omega whimpered under her touch, and the sound was almost enough to make him turn and attack the Jedi to make her stop touching the girl. But he resisted the urge, knowing that Omega needed this Jedi’s help. Not wanting to be useless, he turned his attention to Cal, peeling up his shirt to examine the wound on his stomach. It was a large laceration, going from the tip of his left hip to the start of the right side of his ribcage. Blood spurted from the wound, sticking to the boy’s clothes and sliding down his pale skin. Crosshair cursed and looked around the room, searching for something to wrap the cut with.

 “Bandages are on the left side of the room. Top drawer.” The Jedi murmured.

 Crosshair got up and retrieved the bandages as quickly as possible, grabbing some clothes as well. He dipped the clothes in the water and began to clean Cal’s wound. Once the blood had been wiped away, he could see that it wasn’t as deep as he had originally feared. It would scar, but the boy wouldn’t need stitches. He carefully wrapped the gauze around Cal’s torso, making sure that it was tight enough to stop the bleeding, but not so tight that it would restrict his breathing.

 He ran a hand through the boy’s hair, unsure of what to do now.

 “I didn’t know clones could have children.” The Jedi mused, her voice startling Crosshair out of his own thoughts.

 “They’re- they’re not mine. I’m just looking after them.” He said, a bit shocked that she had thought that he was their father. Had he really gone that soft?

 “I knew that Cal wasn’t yours, but with how quickly you moved to protect them, I thought perhaps young Omega here might have been related to you. She has your ferocity.” The woman replied, frowning. “I can sense that she would be willing to kill to protect those she loves.”

 “Is that such a bad thing?” Crosshair questioned, eyeing her but not fully turning to look at her.

 “For someone like her, it can be. She is strong in the Force, unusually so, but she is inexperienced. She has no way of fighting off the temptations of the Dark side, and if she uses her abilities to hurt or kill, she may end up Falling.”

 “Falling?”

 “Falling means you’ve given in to the Dark side. She’s a wildcard, and her raw power makes her dangerous. There are those who would seek her out and drag her down into the dark with them. In the wrong hands, she could become the Galaxy’s worst nightmare.”

 “That won’t happen.” Crosshair growled.

 “I had a feeling you might say that.” The woman smiled. “You’re welcome to stay here while they recover, if you’d like.”

 “Thank you.” He said, knowing that she was taking a risk by having him there.

 She nodded. “I am Crèshe Master Azeu Mirthver, but please just call me Azeu. There are spare rooms available, or if you’d like, I can set up a bed in here.”

 “I want to stay with them. I need to make sure that they’re okay.” Crosshair said immediately.

 Azeu nodded again. “Omega will need monitoring. Her Force signature is radiating a sense of illness and exhaustion, and I fear that a fever may soon set in.”

 “A fever?” Crosshair arched an eyebrow. “This quickly?”

 “Her immune system is incredibly weak, and she’s practically bleeding stress and pain. This has been a long time coming.” The Jedi sighed, getting to her feet. “I’ve managed to remove the disease, but the puncture wounds are deep. They are the highest risk points for infection, so they’ll need to be checked regularly. I must go check on Tiger and Chex, can you finish applying her bandages?”

 “Sure.” Crosshair said, taking Azeu’s place at Omega’s side.

 “I’ll be back with a fresh set of clothes soon. I’ll be right down the tunnel if you need me.” Azeu said, quietly leaving the cave.

 Crosshair made a noise of acknowledgement as he started to clean the bites on Omega’s leg and ankle. Azeu had cut away part of her pant leg, making it seem like she was wearing shorts on one half and pants on the other. He dabbed at the puncture wounds until his cloth no longer came away bloody, hating how, for most of the time Omega had been around him, she’d been seriously injured or recovering from a major injury.

 “We need to get you some armor, eh shiny?” He joked softly, wrapping the bites gently in gauze. “Where would we even find armor that little, huh?”

 He ran a hand through her hair, smiling when she made a small noise and unconsciously shifted closer to him. Silently, he gently worked out any knots in her hair, occasionally plucking a stray flower petal from her hair. He glanced at them, a small twinge of sadness rippling through him. There had been two flower crowns on the ground when he had leaped down from his vantage point, well made and still mostly intact, if a bit dusty. He hadn’t payed them any mind at the time, too wrapped up in his panic as he tried to save Omega and Cal from bleeding out on the dirt. Thinking on it now, they were probably Omega’s handiwork, as there weren’t any flowers where he had first heard Cal’s voice coming from.

 “We’ll go pick some new ones once you’re better, okay?” He whispered. “But you’ve got to get well first. No running off ‘til we’ve got all of that nastiness out of your system.”

 He turned and looked at Cal, his voice still quiet as he spoke. “And that goes for you too, little jetii.”

 Maker he is going soft.

 It unnerves him slightly; how easily the two children in his care have made him drop his cold exterior. He hasn’t been this open, this vulnerable, since he’d been a small cadet, just barely beginning to learn what his purpose was. Back when he’d been shiny and wide-eyed and new, just like the rest of his vode. Back before the gruelling tests and painful experiments. Back when he had simply been CT-9904, although he didn’t miss the number designation. He’d worn the name his brothers had given him like a badge of honor, as it was something that had been freely given to him, the first thing that had really belonged to him.

 He thinks about that, about names. Omega, although it is not a traditional designation, is still the identifier the Kaminoans had stamped on her medical charts. It’s a name, but is it truly hers? Does she even know that, if she wanted, they would help her find a new name? Would she want a new name? What would it be? Something soft in nature, he thinks. Hunter and Tech had picked picked their names based on their enhancements, but he doesn’t think Force or Sensitive would make a very good name.

 Flower, maybe?

  No, that’s too soft.

 She’s good with her bow, so maybe Sharpshot or… just Bow?

  No, he doesn’t want her to have to be named after her fighting skills or a weapon like so many of his vode are. They were made for war, but he will do everything in his power to keep Omega as far away from it as possible.

 Omega shifts again, and the movement makes him realize that she’s shivering. Crosshair looked around, searching for a blanket. He can’t see any, so he moves to stand up and go look for the Jedi master to ask her where they are. Omega whines pitifully when he moves away, and the sound has him sitting back down right quick. Her face scrunches up in discomfort, and he can hear her murmuring under her breath.

 “Mnh… Wrecker, snap out of it…” She whimpered softly, and Crosshair’s heart breaks.

 He can’t leave her, not when she seems to be getting some form of comfort out of him being there, but he also doesn’t want her to be cold. There’s only two sources of heat in this room, and he’s not going to put her near Cal, not when he’s injured like he is. That left only himself.

 He’s never been the best cuddle buddy, too gangly and thin to be very comfortable to lay on. Tech had been the only one who could ever find him suitable to use as a pillow, the smaller clone curling up near his stomach. However, he’d been told that he ran warmer than his brothers, sometimes reaching fever-levels of heat after a particularly intense combat training session. So if warmth was what Omega needed right now, he’d simply have to make himself as comfortable as possible.

 He shed his armor and set aside his rifle, leaving himself in only his blacks. As if sensing his sudden increase in softness, Omega lunged for his stomach, pressing her face into the taunt muscles. Crosshair coughed quietly, wrapping an arm around her as he eased himself down to the floor. The area around eye was still bruised from when that damnable trooper hit her with his blaster, so he gently nudged her face so that she was resting with her bad eye off of his stomach. She snuggled down into him, sighing softly. Slowly, her shivers subsided, leaving her smiling as she slipped into a more peaceful state.

 Crosshair huffed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The floor was far from comfortable, but he’d slept on worse. Shifting, just slightly, making sure that no sharp points were poking Omega, he settled down to sleep. The weight was so familiar, so comforting, he found that, for the first time in years, sleep was coming easily. He blinked tiredly, his breathing slowing down as he relaxed. Lulled by the exhaustion of the day and his own heartbeat, he let his eyelids slip shut.

  Cal’s vision was blurred as he cracked his eyes open, groaning. His torso burned, a thin stripe of agony that stretched across his body. Bleary eyed, he reached out to the Force, searching for Omega. Her Force signature glowed warmly, drawing him in. Pushing himself up, he stumbled over to where she was, letting the Force be his guide. As his eyes adjusted to the now dim light, he spotted Crosshair and Omega lying on the ground, Omega’s face buried in the older clone’s stomach. Still groggy from sleep and unwilling to go looking for Master Mirthver, he laid down on Crosshair’s free side, leaning against his chest as he snuggled up to him. An arm fell over his back, pulling him closer. Cal yawned and closed his eyes again. For as long as he could remember, he’d slept alone, no matter if he had been sick or hurt or afraid. He’d always felt like asking to sleep with his Master would have been against the Code, even if he had just awoken from a terrible nightmare and really needed the comfort.

 Now, as he lay in this cave, cuddled up to a clone that, a few days ago, would have killed him for comfort, he found himself wishing that he had sought out that comfort, taken that time to experience the closeness that he only now realizes that he’s been desperately craving. Tears well in his eyes as he fists part of Crosshair’s outfit, and he knows it’s not because of his wound.

 He misses his Master so much that it hurts. It hurts more than any of his previous injuries combined. The guilt had made him feel like he was made of stone, but for the past few days he hadn’t had a moment to feel guilty, to preoccupied with either being terrified for his and Omega’s life or so filled with joy and warmth that he had been fit to burst. But now? In the stillness and quiet? The gnawing feeling came back, making him curl up into a little ball.

 What was he doing? He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to be comforted. He’d been a terrible padawan, possibly the worst padawan! He’d let his Master die, what kind of person did that? All he’d had to do was be faster, move quicker, think quicker, and yet he’d failed. He’d failed, and then he had been alone, lost and left to mourn amidst the wreckage of a war that would soon come to an end in the worst possible way. When he’d been captured, a part of him had wanted to simply attack, to get them to end his life the same they had ended his Master’s. But the fear that had been coursing through his veins had made him freeze up, to not call to his Master’s lightsaber, which was safely tucked away out of sight.

 He thinks, bleakly, that he might have overcome his fear if he had been thrown into that cell alone.

 Omega had been a burst of starlight in his life, the Force around her curious and untameable. She was unlike any padawan or Jedi he’d ever met, so open and bright. She projected her emotions and made no move to shield her thoughts, having no secrets to keep locked away. Being around her was overwhelming but it was good. It was good because he was so focuses on her that there was no time to think about what had happened, what he’d done. She’d saved him, kept his mind from going back to the dark place it had been in during his time alone on Bracca. A dark place that was slowly dragging him back, its sharp claws digging into his mind.

 “Cal?”

 Master Mirthver’s voice was quiet as she stepped into the cave, a bundle of blankets in one arm and a cot tucked the other. Cal sniffed and peered at her, his green eyes wet with tears. The Togruta gave him a sad look, moving over to kneel beside him.

 “What is troubling you, young Ketsis?” She whispered.

 “ ‘m a bad padawan.” He croaked, his voice trembling. “I let Master Tapal die.”

“Oh Cal,” The Crèshe Master crooned, draping a blanket over him, “that isn’t true in the slightest. No one would ever blame you for what happened that day. Jedi Masters that had been training for longer than you’ve been alive couldn’t stop the clones. Master Tapal’s death was not your fault.”

 “Yes it was!” He sobbed, the tears falling freely now.

 His raw emotions and sorrowful cry woke the two clones he had been resting with. Crosshair jolted a bit, his military upbringing making him snap to alertness. Omega was a different story, all slow movements and hazy questioning over their bond. Crosshair drew Cal into a hug, understanding that the youngster was upset but not yet knowing why.

 “What’s wrong?” He asked, rubbing Cal’s back. “It it your cut?”

 Cal pressed his face into the clone’s chest, making a noise of disagreement.

 “He feels guilt.” The Togruta explained. “He blames himself for something out of his control.”

 The Jedi’s words did nothing but make Cal cry harder. Crosshair looked hopelessly confused, unsure of what to do or how to make things better. Omega, now very much awake and practically being suffocated by Cal’s emotions, wiggled her way over Crosshair’s body and pulled him into a hug, holding him as tightly as possible.

 “Let it out.” She whispered. “Let it all out. You’ll never be really alright if you don’t get everything out when it starts to be too much.”

 The redhead shuddered, clinging to her like his life depended on it. Omega winced as she moved her leg, letting Cal cry into her shoulder. Her own tears slipped down her face as she shared his misery and pain, and she leaned against Crosshair for support. The man brought both her and Cal into a hug easily, wishing that he could help more.

 “You’ll be okay.” She rasped. “I promise.”

 Crosshair and Azeu looked at each other, neither one quite knowing what to say or what to do. Omega seemed to be the only one who could truly understand what Cal was going through, but neither adult wanted such pressure to fall on the shoulders of a young child. Azeu tentatively reached out with the Force, but quickly pulled back when she felt a sharp, almost electrical feeling. It was like a force-field, protecting those within and keeping any others out. She couldn’t tell if Cal had put it up in an attempt to shield his broken psyche, or if Omega was, in her exhaustion, was trying her best to protect her friend.

 Unable to do anything other than simply hug the distraught kids, Crosshair murmured quiet comforting words, both in Basic and in Mando’a. After a while, the sobs died down as the children fell back asleep, still holding onto each other. Silently, Azeu and Crosshair constructed a plush bed for them. Crosshair held Cal and Omega close, not wanting them to wake up and start stumbling around in the dark. There was a pool of water near by, after all, and he didn’t want them falling into it. There was no resistance on their end, the duo easily finding a comfortable spot on his chest and in the crux of his elbow.

 “I’ll be back to check on them in the morning.” Azeu whispered.

 Crosshair nodded, laying his head down. The blankets made sleep come even easier, and he quickly found himself back in the darkness of sleep.

   “I hate this.”

 “I know.”

 Crosshair smoothed Omega’s hair down, the blonde locks dampened by sweat. The girl’s face was flushed, reddened by a fever that had taken over her body. Her brown eyes were glassy, fogged over by illness. The sight was distressing, both for Crosshair and Cal. The freckled boy was in his cot, staying there only because Azeu had threatened to move him into a different room if he kept trying to check up on Omega. Crosshair wasn’t looking towards him right now, but he was sure that, if he looked, he’d see Cal sulking. He sympathized with him, but the clone knew that he needed to rest.

 “I‘m cold.” Omega whined, shuddering.

 “You might feel cold, but I assure you, you’re warm as an oven, little verd.” Crosshair replied.

 “Lil’ wha?” Omega questioned.

 “Verd. It means warrior.” The man responded fondly.

 “Oh.” She said, glancing up at Crosshair. “Whatsa warrior?”

 “Someone brave who fights for the good of others.”

 “Y’think I’m brave?”

 Crosshair gave her a kind smile. “Of course. Bravest little clone to ever grace this wretched Galaxy.”

 “Awww.” She giggled, leaning into his hand. “You’re so nice, Crosshair.”

 “I think you’re the first person to ever say that.” He said, ruffling her hair.

 “That’s ‘cause you act too much like a cactus.” Omega replied.

 “What?” Crosshair looked at her, confused.

 “Prickly on the outside, soft on the inside.” She said, sounding very sage.

 “Oh, quiet you.” Crosshair snipped, no heat behind his words.

 “Crosshair?”

 “Yeah?”

 “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

 A bucket was swiftly handed to Omega, and the poor girl clutched it as she emptied her stomach of its contents. Crosshair awkwardly rubbed her back, wincing when she started coughing. He himself had never thrown up, but he’d heard stories from Echo about the time he and his twin, Fives, had gotten blackout drunk. Apparently, it was one of the worst feelings you could experience.

 Once she was done, he offered her a cup of water and helped her get comfortable again. Omega groaned as she lay back down, her face contorting in displeasure.

 “I don’t like being sick.” She whined.

 “I know, I’m sorry.” Crosshair said sympathetically.

 “I wanna go home.” Omega sighed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

 “Me too, ad’ika. I’m going to try and contact the Havoc Marauder as soon as you’re better.” The older clone said.

 “Why not before?” The young girl asked softly.

 “I don’t want to leave you here while I go look for a signal. You can both come with me once you’ve recovered.” He explained.

 “Why can’t we stay here?” Omega asked innocently.

 “I don’t exactly trust the people who kidnapped you and Cal to be the best babysitters.” Crosshair muttered.

 “They’re not bad people, Crosshair. They thought that you had kidnapped us. They’re all really nice.” Omega glanced down. “Except for Chex, he’s kinda mean.”

 “Kinda?” Cal lifted his head off his cot. “He nearly cut you in half!”

 “What?!” Crosshair growled, sitting up straighter.

 “He thought I was like the chipped clones!” Omega explained quickly “He just wanted to protect his family.”

 “That’s not an excuse for attacking you. Nothing is an excuse for attacking you.” He hissed, pulling Omega closer, as if to defend her from some unseen threat. “You’re a child. You didn’t do anything.”

 “He didn’t know that.” Omega said softly.

 Crosshair hugged her closer, and Omega could hear his rising heartbeat thundering in his chest. She nuzzled his stomach, trying to calm his anger before he did something stupid.

 “Please don’t hurt him.” The blonde haired clone gave him her best puppy-dog eyes. “I don’t want you to start a fight you can’t win.”

 “I can win any fight.” He muttered, but made no move to get up and hunt Chex down, so Omega counted it as a success.

 “He’s still a jerk though.” Cal piped up again. “I kinda want to see Crosshair scare the daylights out of him.”

 “Cal!” Omega scolded, leaning over to glare disapprovingly at him.

 “What?” He asked teasingly. “Don’t pretend that you don’t want to see that.”

 Omega puffed her cheeks out, but her sickness-induced flushness and ruffled hair robbed her of any semblance of intimidation. “Where is he anyways? I lost track of him once things got crazy.”

 “Forming an apology, I hope. He owes you his life.” Cal huffed, before closing his eyes. Omega lifted her head slightly, sensing him reach out with the Force.

 “Oho, he is miserable! He’s as sick as you!” Cal chuckled, before hissing and clutching at his chest. “Ow, ow, ow.”

 “Laughing at someone’s pain? That can’t be something Jedi do.” Omega teased.

 “Not a Jedi yet, still got time to make mistakes.” Cal argued, lying back down.

 Omega huffed, feeling sleep creep up on her. She yawned, stretching her arms.

 “I just woke up, how am I already tired?” She complained, rubbing at her uninjured eye.

 “You’re healing. Sleep, ad’ika.” Crosshair said, pulling a blanket up over her shoulders.

 “One day, I will figure out what you keep calling me.” Omega yawned again, letting sleep bring her into it’s gentle hold.

    Blaster fire, yelling, the smell of smoke.

 Omega cowered, staring up at the uncaring face of the man before her. Steel blue eyes look down at her with disdain, the man’s lip curling with disgust.

 “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little defective. You’ve caused quite a stir, what with your escape on Verbrick. You know, the Kamnioans want you back, but since there are so many little Force users here, I see no reason why we can’t just take one of them instead.” He smirks, and Omega feels very cold. “Kill her, and grab one of the children. Not the redhead, though, that one is to be exterminated.”

 NONONONONONONO!

 The Force becomes alight with her rage and fear, and she calls out to someone, anyone.

She finds someone. She finds them, and the world explodes with noise.

[phantom-curve]

someday this will have a real title pt. 3

wow this one got away from me a lil bit. did I use it as an excuse to listen to Wake Up on repeat for an hour? yes. did I cry while writing it? yes. do with that information what you will. 

I really like how this is turning out. honestly, thinking of writing a companion piece from Luke’s POV once I finish Julie’s. also, I realized while writing this that Luke basically ‘poofs’ into Julie’s space every time he interacts with her even though he’s not a ghost and I love that consistency.

still have no idea how long this will be, so thanks for just going on this adventure with me!

tag list: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles (thank you! honestly, they’ve got such strong voices writing these characters is a delight. also, titles are hard), @bluefyoto94 (thank you!), @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder​ lemme know if you want to be added!

The second the entrance of Los Feliz High School was in her sight, Julie was unbuckling her seatbelt, bolting out of the car in a mad dash to escape into the academic institution. Luke didn’t even have time to fully park the car before she had slipped out of it, her curly head disappearing into the mass of students surging through the front doors as the first bell began to ring. Social etiquette dictated that she wait around long enough to at least thank Luke for the ride, but honestly, social etiquette could suck a fat one. She had been dealing with fake social graces for the last year and frankly, she was sick of all of the bullshit. She didn’t feel particularly inclined to extend said graces to overconfident band boys intent on disrupting her carefully constructed routine.

For the last year Luke had been content to ignore her presence in the few classes they shared, perfectly happy basking in the glory of being an upperclassman with unprecedented musical talent. Luke knew exactly where he was going and how he was going to get there. He didn’t stop to wait for the school to hook him up with gigs, he went out and made the shows happen for his band himself. Julie had always admired his confidence, wished she could be more like him.

She hadn’t always loved the cockier side to his attitude though. He had a tendency to act like god’s gift to music and it drove her insane considering there were kids at this school that worked just as hard as him but wouldn’t ever make it quite as far. Not everyone could be born with that kind of talent, but that didn’t mean he had to rub other people’s faces in it! She should know, hadn’t she always been complimented on her musical ability before anything else? And now that she didn’t have that same gift to offer up to the masses, wasn’t she just another forgotten face in the crowd?

Head low, shoulders hunched against the onslaught of emotion, Julie pushed her way through the morning crowd of students. She didn’t look up until she knew her locker would be in front of her, and even then she only lifted her head long enough to bury it inside of the metal box, pretending she was searching for the schoolbooks already in her backpack.

“Hey, under achiever.”

The familiar voice was warm, the nickname affectionate instead of insulting. It pulled a reluctant smile from Julie as she turned to meet her best friend’s gentle gaze.

“Hey, disappointment.”

Flynn gave her a little hip bump and a sad smile. Oh. So, word had already spread around the school.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Julie hefted her backpack higher on her shoulder, one hand reaching to pull her hat low. Too late she recognized how her own actions almost mirrored Luke’s earlier. Flynn, best friend that she was, linked her arm through Julie’s and began to lead them down the hallway towards homeroom.

“Okay.”

Julie breathed a sigh of relief. Her best friend could be like a dog with a bone sometimes, unable to let any perceived injustice go without a fight. She was thankful she had avoided whatever rant Flynn had at the ready for the time being.

“But we’re gonna have to talk about it eventually, Jules. You can’t just let them kick you out! You’re Julie Molina! Voice of an angel! Queen of-!”

Or maybe not. Flynn’s declarations cut off immediately at the cold look Julie sent her way.

“Right, don’t wanna talk about it.”

Julie nodded fiercely, unmoved by Flynn’s disappointed sigh as she pulled out of her grasp and slipped into her desk. Flynn hadn’t lost her mom and her ability to play music all at once. Flynn didn’t have the entire school breathing down her neck. Flynn’s life wasn’t falling apart in front of her eyes. Flynn didn’t get to judge. Head down, Julie fought back the feelings of shame and guilt, focusing on her anger instead.

She made it through most of the day like that, relying solely on the fuel her fury provided to get her through her classes. Until her last two classes of the day. Composition and Solo Vocal Studies. Except, she wasn’t in those classes anymore. She had been dropped from them like the useless failure that she was. Her dad still didn’t know, so there hadn’t been a meeting with the school to change her schedule. But she couldn’t just go to a class she had been asked to leave. The final bell rang, and Julie was left by herself in the empty hallways. She glanced at the closed classroom doors around her, feeling small and lost. Suddenly, the red-hot rage that had sustained her all day was doused by an overwhelming wave of sadness. She was alone.

Unable to stomach the thought of losing it in the middle of the school, Julie sprinted for the nearest exit. Her surroundings were a blur until she practically slammed into the metal doors, crashing her way outside. She took a few steps before doubling over on her knees, gasping for breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, focused on nothing more than the air going in and out of her lungs. It was breezy, the warm wind blowing her hair around, the wayward curls tickling her face. The sensation helped to ground her, and she finally opened her eyes, the panic receding as she stood. The door creaked open behind her. Julie stiffened at the noise. The hair on the back of her neck felt electrified, and she didn’t have to hear him speak to know who it was. A throat cleared.

“You, um...you dropped this.”

She heard fabric rustling, the soft swoosh of what must be his arm lifting. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, the frustration she’d been thriving on all day creeping in at the edges. She clung to it like a lifeline as she turned to meet his puppy dog eyes.

“What, are you stalking me or something?!”

Her voice was hoarse, not as strong or snappy as she had intended. She balled her hands into tight fists at her sides, ready to verbally attack as she leaned forward waiting for him to respond. He didn’t say anything, eyes soft as he looked down to where his hand was outstretched holding...her hat. Her hands flew to her head, landing on hair instead of the trusty ballcap she had kept perched there for the last year. So that’s how her curls had gotten loose earlier. Heat rose again, burning its way up from her chest to her cheeks to the tips of her ears. She snatched it out of his hands, shoving it back on her head with more force than necessary.

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing. You, uh, bolted outta there pretty quick. Everything okay?”

She watched him bob slightly, like he couldn’t stop moving for even a second. His voice was melodic, somehow everything he said sounding like he was on the verge of bursting into song. In another life, she probably would have been charmed by him. Not in this life though.

“Fine. Looks like I’m done with school for the day I guess.”

She practically sneered at him. Something about his gentle prodding scratched at her. Everyone knew she was a disaster. Everyone knew she was out of the music program, a washed up has been before she had been able to even make it in the first place. He didn’t need to use the kid gloves with her.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you usually have...”

He trailed off, eyes downcast, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. She glared, not even noticing that he somehow knew her schedule.

“Yeah. Usually. Not anymore. So.”

He rocked back on his heels, hands shoved in his jean pockets, arms flexing in an unfairly aggressive display of hotness. His eyes were still looking at her with that same gentle expression. Like he cared. Her fingertips itched and she realized with a start that she desperately wanted to grab her keyboard and pound out an angry ballad about this...this too nice fuckboy with a pretty face and she could see the notes forming now and she could practically feel the smooth chill of the keys under her fingers and...she staggered backwards.

What the hell was that?! Her heart raced, adrenaline spiking. Oh no. No no no. She couldn’t want to play for this dumb boy. She hadn’t been able to play for her dad or her brother. She hadn’t been able to play for Flynn, hadn’t been able to play for her mother. She couldn’t even play for herself! What kind of special magic did Luke freakingPatterson possess that made her want to play again? It wasn’t fair.

“I gotta go.”

She swerved around him, reaching for the school doors. They held fast, locked from the inside. Her shoulders slumped. Just her luck.

“Hey, Julie?”

She didn’t answer, but it didn’t stop him.

“I’m really sorry about your mom. She was an incredible songwriter. You are too.”

The last part was said quietly but Julie heard it anyway. She couldn’t help but scoff as she turned to face him again.  He stood perfectly still this time.

“How would you know that?”

His eyes, still so soft, crinkled a bit at the edges. Not a full smile, but she could tell he wanted to. Without breaking their stare down, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn, folded square of paper. Her gaze dipped, eyes widening. Her breath caught in her throat. It couldn’t be. He held it out to her.

“I found it last year. In the practice room. I know I should have given it to you earlier, but there was never a right time. I’m sorry.”

Julie’s vision swam. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she reached out to take the paper he offered.

“I thought...I tried to...”

“I know.”

His voice was the sweetest croon as his fingers closed around hers, tucking the sheet music safely into her palm.

“I went back the next day, but...it was gone.”

“I’m so sorry. God, I should have had Alex give it to Flynn or something.”

“No.” She locked her eyes on his once more. “It wasn’t the right time.”

He gave her a small smile, bouncing just a bit on the balls of his feet again. And then, as if understanding that she needed this moment to herself, he gave her a small nod and disappeared around the side of the building. Julie closed her eyes for a moment, clutching the papers to her chest.

Last year, in a fit of heartbroken rage and unable to express herself through music like she had for her entire life, Julie had locked herself in the practice room after school and thrown an all-out tantrum. She had screamed herself sick, cried until she couldn’t breathe, and in a final fit of uncontrollable emotion, trashed the last song that she had written with her mother, finished just days before she took her last breath. It had been satisfying in the moment. A vow to give up the part of herself that was made up of her mother, cut the pain off at the source so to speak. She had regretted it the instant she woke up the next morning, but it was too late. By the time she got to school, the first student on campus even, the practice room had already been cleaned. The hollowed out, empty feeling of loss that had followed had been gut wrenching. The realization that she had thrown the last connection to her mother in the trash left a gaping hole in her heart. It had been a fitting punishment that Julie had never even gotten to play the final product. A fitting punishment that she would never play anything again.

Luke had just changed all of that. He had given her that piece of her heart back. Fingers trembling, she unfolded the pages. She traced the looping letters of her mother’s familiar handwriting, following the notes up and down the bars, the melody playing in her head as she read. At the very end, a final message she had missed before:

Julie, you can do it.

Love, Mom

It felt like coming home. Pages clutched to her heart once more, Julie leaned against the building, lifted her face to the sky, and wept.