#so falling back on my prior teaching to stay in one emotion and broken down for 24 hrs

[somethingaboutvampires]

[gryffindors-weasley]

Finding A Light

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ron was left broken in the aftermath of the wizarding war. In an attempt to build a better life, he feels he may have unknowingly met someone who could put those pieces back together.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, fluff

A/N: Remus is very much alive in this series! This will be more than one part, I hope you enjoy!

Ron Weasley was a man of few words when presented the daunting task of expressing his emotions, preferring to stuff them down and deal with the consequences later. He never outright says what he’s feeling unless it’s pried from him, and in those times it’s usually expressed through anger. He isn’t great with his words either, so it didn’t come as a surprise to Harry and Hermione to see him so closed off after the war had concluded its disastrous rampage.

It was a battle that anyone and everyone involved was more than likely to never forget, the losses and hardships engraved in their minds as a permanent reminder should their memory allow it as they age. Some had come out on the other side more fortunate than others. Some had handled it far better than others. Ron was not one of those people.

His long awaited ambitions on becoming an Auror were rapidly diminished and pushed to the very back of his mind for a good while. He had wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic beyond that very day, thought that maybe if he hadn’t used it, it wouldn’t remind him of his tragedies. That maybe that part of his life would be forgotten in time if he tried hard enough. So, his wand, his robes, his Hogwarts letters and what was left of his sentimental wizarding memorabilia were hastily shoved into a cardboard box, taped shut and stuffed away to collect dust. Out of sight out of mind was his reasoning, though it didn’t quite work out that way.

The loss of his childhood home paired with the devastating loss of one of his older brothers had been a weight too heavy to bear, pressing down on his chest with each day that passed. He nearly lost two of his closest friends amidst the chaos the Dark Lord left in his wake. Such a lifetime of pain and loss was something he never anticipated to experience all by the young age of eighteen, and it left him feeling like a mere shell of the person he once used to be. As if the years of extraordinary magical endeavors prior to that day were completely erased and replaced with utter heartache.

It took him four years to bring himself out of the pit he found himself stuck in and find some semblance of strength, if only for his mother, and he wanted to build a better life for himself. One without so much sorrow written into his story. He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing so, knowing a return to a normal life simply wouldn’t be feasible. Not that his life had ever been considered normal per say.

The emotional scars were something that would never go away, he understood that, but he didn’t think he could go another day having the same mundane routine night and day. He felt ready for more.

Now, at the age of twenty-two coming up on twenty-three, he found himself returning to Hogwarts with hopes to become a professor. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when he arrived, sick to his stomach with nerves as he stopped and stood in the middle of the newly constructed stone bridge. His letter crinkled under the pressure of his tightly clenched hand, luggage in the other, eager students curving their stride to avoid running into him. The castle was more grand than he’d remembered it to be, perhaps they’d made it bigger to house more young witches and wizards, perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, against his instincts, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue forward before he convinced himself to turn around and apparate home.

He quickly found that things had been kept fairly the same as he roamed the grand halls in curiosity, as similar to the school he’d grown up in as it could be. The wondrous ceiling of enchanted candles in the Great Hall was a detail that briefly gave him watery eyes; the varying hues of reds, oranges and yellows coloring the Gryffindor common room, down to the house flags pridefully ornamenting the new quidditch pitch. He found himself turning to express his awe to Harry or Hermione on more than one occasion, but was only met with the unfamiliar faces of new students. His shoulders would slump as he exhaled a deep sigh.

It had taken him nearly two months to fully adjust to his newfound routine, to come to terms with the memories that flashed in his mind of their own volition. Whether they be good or bad, they had a habit of making themselves known at the worst of times. Over the course of that time period crumpled pieces of parchment had accumulated around the desk in his room, unsent letters to his mother of his wishes to return home. All of which were written hastily in either frustration or tears, or a mixture of the two. And of the ones he had sent, they were promptly returned with enchanted letters vocally telling him with the utmost of love and sternness that he will be staying, he needs this. Those letters kept him going on those days.

Amongst those days and nights it was strange not having his two best friends there, loneliness still having its hold on him.

Remus Lupin had made his return all the more welcome though, himself and McGonagall being two of the only familiar faces that he’d truly connected with. He felt it was an honor to be taken under his wing and trained, he always had been Ron’s favorite instructor of Defense Against The Dark Arts. He’d even go so far as to say he’s the best if he was being honest.

Regardless, despite his own personal conflicts, he was beginning to feel more comfortable residing there than he had ever thought he would. It was as if the nagging rain cloud dumping over his head was starting to dissipate for the time being.

“You did very good today, Ron,” Lupin says once his final class of the day has left, “the teaching of boggarts is never easy I’ll say, and if I recall correctly it wasn’t your favorite lesson.”

Ron chuckles at the thought, pushing his chair in when he stood. “Not particularly. I still have a nightmare or two about that bloody spider.”

Lupin laughs, nodding at the pleasant memory. Things fall quiet for a few moments as Ron moves to sling his bag over his shoulder. “Off you go, Mr. Weasley, enjoy your weekend,” he urges, grabbing Ron’s attention again before he gets too far. “Here’s your weekly report. You’re becoming a fine up and coming professor I’d say. I have no doubt that I will be leaving my classroom in the best possible care.”

Ron nods with a soft laugh, cheeks flushing a pale crimson at the reassurance as he takes the parchment from him, tucking it into his bag to be read later. “Thank you, Professor Lupin, really. It means a lot to hear.”

He smiles appreciatively before making his way across the long classroom, stopping in his tracks. He takes a breath to gather his thoughts before spinning on his heel to face him again, returning to the desk he sat at. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

He offers Ron a smile upon seeing the clear hesitancy written all over his face. Ron gulps, fumbling with the strap of his bag that rested on his shoulder. He could practically see the gears turning in the ginger boy’s head if such a thing existed. “Was it…was it hard coming back here? After the war, I mean.”

Lupin huffs out a soft laugh at the sudden ask of such a deep question, though he can’t say he was surprised. “I was waiting for this question to arise,” he says, lifting a hand to stop Ron from apologizing. “To give a short answer, yes. It took great thought. To give a long answer, one you may not like but I’m sure you already know, there will always be bad days after experiencing such trauma. It is not easy being born into a life where magic is real and not just a trick of the eye. While it can be wonderful it also brings with it a great deal of damage.”

Ron nods as he listens to his words, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Despite all of it, Hogwarts is a place that can be good just as much as it can be bad. You just have to take it in your stride. You’re stronger than you think, Ron. If you really want to be here, I believe it is worth it to try.”

Ron exhales deeply, taking a moment to process his insightful words, a certain wisdom he appreciated. It left him feeling considerably lighter than he had before, like he was a bit more hopeful of a better experience here. “Thank you.”

That’s all he can manage to say.

The blue eyed man in front of him nods. “Go on now, you’ve had a long day, Weasley.”

—

Ron found himself to be rather excited for this weekend. It would be his first time making a trip to Hogsmeade in nearly five years, though he’d been putting it off because the experience wasn’t quite the same when doing it alone. Third years buzzed around him with the excitement of their newfound privileges and independence, bouncing from shop to shop to fully take in all that it had to offer.

He, however, walked at a leisurely pace amongst the students bustling around him, taking a moment to fully appreciate everything he hadn’t seen for so long. Catching details that otherwise went unnoticed like the chipping pink paint on the curved windowsills of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and the happy young couples residing inside. The vibrant green moss that formed inbetween the crumbling cracks of the old cobblestone walkways. However, the sight of Zonko’s Joke Shop made his heart lurch in his chest the moment he saw it.

He averted his gaze immediately, swallowing thickly as he tugged at his shirt collar that suddenly felt a little too constricting. It had been Fred and George’s favorite shop to frequent, always buying new things to add to their inventory of pranks. But now that one half of the pair was missing it wasn’t such a fond memory anymore, moreso a taunting one.

The sound of a couple students joyously greeting with a chorus of ‘Hi Mr. Weasley!’ pulled him from his thoughts and he was quick to smile, giving them a half wave as they had already begun to walk away. He let his hand fall back to his side, huffing out a sigh as he continued to walk along the path towards the one place he looked forward to the most, Honeydukes.

The little bell overhead alerted his entrance as he opened the door, the air noticeably sweeter than outside. He found himself smiling as his gaze bounced around the near unchanged shop, any candy you could possibly think of lining almost every brightly painted wall. Though not every single one is a desireable find, he learned that one the hard way. He almost didn’t know where to begin, much like how he felt the first time he ever entered the place, and every time after that for that matter. So he perused the shop, something he’s never done by himself.

His eyes landed on familiar chocolates, and he was quick to grab a box for Hermione because he knows they’re her favorite. Despite such knowledge she still adamantly denies having a sweet tooth to this day. To go along with that, he snags one of the last chocolate frogs for Harry.

It was a fond memory when he thought of it, a tradition they’d had as young students. He’s still got the cards he’d collected from each frog, they were tucked away in that box filled with other things. Maybe when he returned home he’d have the courage to reopen it.

He continues to look around for a bit more, finding himself wishing he had the same sense of enjoyment and innocence as some of the younger students held. For they were fortunate enough to narrowly miss being involved with such negative events. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t looming over his head anymore, to let himself enjoy this very moment. So, he tried his best to clear his mind and bring himself back to his current situation in the middle of an aisle filled with hard candies.

When he had turned the corner of said aisle he collided with something, someone to be more specific, the box clutched in his hands opening on impact and sending the assortment of sweets clattering to the ground with the addition of others. The chocolate frog had fell from its decorative box and hopped out of sight before he could process it.

“I’m so sorry!” A soft voice sounds in front of him, a warm hand enveloping his wrist.

“It’s okay…” Ron trails off when he matches the voice to its owner, blinking slowly as his mouth hangs slightly agape. He found himself staring at the girl, he was quite sure he’d never seen someone so alluring, so captivating. He didn’t know if he could manage to stop gawking. “I-it’s okay.”

His cheeks redden when he realized he’s repeated himself, the fiery heat of embarrassment burning from the very tips of his ears down to his neck, leaving his pale skin flushed. You too came to the realization that you were still gripping his arm, quickly dropping it as you laughed softly to stave off any awkward silence. He averts his eyes momentarily, needing a moment to regain his composure and not make a complete fool of himself in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though he’s quite sure he already has.

“I told Mr. Flume it shouldn’t be quite so cramped in here, but he never seems to listen,” you laugh, looking at the smattering of sweets scattered around the two of them. Ron was focused less on the mishap and more on the way you smiled brightly at him, knowing his cheeks were undoubtedly the same shade as his hair. “Give me just one moment, please!”

He nods just a little too late as you rush off around another corner and out of sight, leaving him to stand there awkwardly as students in the vicinity stared at the mess sprawled at his feet. Shortly, you indeed did come back, a new box of chocolates and what was now the last chocolate frog in your hands. You thrusted them in his direction with a warm smile, one that made his heart flip in his chest. “Take these, it’s on the house.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that,” Ron rushes.

“Please, it was my mistake. I insist.”

He laughs softly, nodding after a moment. “At least let me help you clean up?”

You nod up at him with a laugh of your own, “deal.”

He tries not to think about the way your fingers brush over his as they pick up chocolates from the checkered floor, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. And he tried not to think about the way you’d had his stomach twisting in knots as if he was a thirteen year old again experiencing his first crush.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He scrambled to think of a response, seemingly forgetting his own name momentarily. It hadn’t gotten any better when you looked up at him politely as if waiting for a response. “I’m Ron…Ron Weasley.”

He could’ve kicked himself for being so awkward, knowing him stumbling over his words couldn’t possibly give off any sort of appeal. He brushed his hands off with a sigh as he stood to his feet. Though you didn’t seem to mind his nerves as you brushed your hands off on your jeans.

“Nice to meet you, Ron. I only wished it were on better circumstances.” The pale blush on your face deepened a shade.

“That’s quite alright,” he says with an airy laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It was nice meeting you too.”

That same silence took up the absence in conversation again as Ron tried desperately to think of something to say, not quite ready for the interaction to be over. You beat him to it.

“I hope to see you around here again, maybe without the mess,” you say with a soft smile, “and don’t forget your chocolates.”

He was confused for a moment, too caught up in the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him, or the way your hair fell around your face before following where you’d been pointing. “Oh! Y-yeah…thank you,” He grabbed his sweets in his shaky hands, feeling rather bold suddenly, “I’ll see you around then, Y/n.”

He was sure your words were only friendly, something you probably said often as a kind gesture. Probably not because you actually wanted to see him again. But he let himself think otherwise if only for a moment.

You simply nod, your grin widening a fraction, “bye Ron.”

—

Ron’s lifted spirits did not go unnoticed, not by Mrs. McGonagall who made it a point to bring it up at dinner later that evening. He could tell she picked up on it, could tell by the very way she’d glanced at him frequently. Though he wasn’t sure he was hiding it very well. He pretended not to notice, focusing his gaze on the rows of tables occupied by dozens upon dozens of students seated at them, the hardwood adorned with some of the best food he’s ever eaten. Second only to his mother.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so cheery, Mr. Weasley?” She finally asks, and he sighs at the question.

“Not particularly,” he responds using her wording, glancing at her as a smile pulls at the left corner of his mouth. He watches as she raises a skeptical brow; he knows what’s coming.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a number of years, Ronald. I know when you’re lying,” she says with a soft laugh, though she doesn’t pry.

Ron chuckles down at his plate as he shakes his head, pushing his food around as he thought about her. The way she smiled at him, so brightly the corners of her eyes crinkled. It still felt as though those butterflies were still fluttering around in his stomach. He quickly found himself wanting to hear your voice again, or hear your laughter—

“I’ve met a wonderful person today, that’s all,” he blurts, looking to his side.

She gave him a fond yet knowing smile, nodding her head. “I know the look of young love when I see it.”

“I’m not in love, Mrs. McGonagall,” he urges almost immediately, cheeks reddening once more at her preposterous conclusion, “I’ve only just met her today.”

“If you insist, my dear.”

“I do insist.” He tries to be sure of himself despite his inability to get you off his mind, but he hides his smile behind his goblet as he takes a sip.

Later that night he went to bed with something other than sorrow clouding his thoughts, instead feeling rather optimistic about the week ahead. Or maybe it was the plans he’d had at the end of it that had him so eager, time feeling agonizingly slow. It was definitely that. He couldn’t wait to see you next Saturday.

—

[rosaetae]

spellbound to be | one

☇ “I don’t need to drink your blood to have my lips on your neck.”

[this is a part of tale of the purebloods] — prologue / one / two 

➣  pairing: jungkook x reader

➣  genre: vampire!jungkook, fanatasy!au, soulmate!au, angst

➣ word count: 12.3k

➣  rating: pg-13

➣  synopsis: jeon jungkook is the cursed pureblood to have fallen in deep love with someone who was not his Complement. having to have fallen hard, he has to compensate with a life full of heartbreak and pain— one of which a burden weighs heavily on his shoulders. so much so, he hires a witch one day to reverse his inevitable Complement tie.

Bloodshed.

That is what derives from Witch Trial Week at Ember Academy— overly exaggerating, of course. A witch-made week established decades ago, the equivalence to Hell Week in the mundane world, but something your friend, Piper likes to call "Heaven Week" for her own musings.

Ember Academy's witches spend the week hexing, jinxing, cursing each other in the light of every October 31st, Halloween. There's no real motive behind it. Before, whoever was the last witch standing would be given special treatment, but in modern day, it was used as a tactic for the professors to oversee who would be a powerful witch, for some it was a mechanism to either get revenge or to let out one's anger. For you, it was always fun.

To your misfortune, you were at the short end of the stick, being clever and witty enough to be made part of Witch Trial Week, one of the notable witches that some would target, but unlike the rest of Ember Academy, you didn't grow up with the others. They all knew each other the day you stepped into the academy, looking and talking about you as if you were anything but one of them.

And it was true, you weren't fully one of them.

Growing up, you lived in the mundane world, surrounded by people who upheld no special abilities as those in the Upper World. Surely, you were no stranger to the realm of where your mother comes from, you coming home every day from primary school to your father, a human, and your mother, a full-fledged witch who gave up her immortality and her life in the Upper World for the sake of her Complement. You'd spend the day learning simple arithmetic, and after school, you'd come home to your mother teaching you simple, harmless charms.

It was a normal life growing up for you, your upbringing never straying too far from your roots. On some nights, your father put you to bed by telling you bedtime stories, on other nights, your mother would sing a lullaby of broken latin. You were convinced for awhile that it was your mother's soothing voice, but at a certain age when she stopped singing you to sleep, she exposed that it was a siren's song she learned from a friend in her hometown.

As a child, you'd constantly ask about the Upper World, having constant dreams about another worldly realm and a recurring figure holding their hand out for you. And the minute your finger grazes theirs, you awake. Not on your bed made of sea water and a ceiling made of glass, but in your normal New York apartment that had some crooked crevices on the ceiling, on your springy mattress with beige linen sheets. Although, despite your continuous desire to visit your mother's home world, your mother and father were very against world hopping.

However, due to your father's passing when you turned 14, there was no reason as to why your mother should keep you in the mundane world any longer if you didn't want to stay, and brought you to the Upper World of where your dreams of it had come to reality.

Entering Ember Academy, you could not fathom why your mother was so strict of you convincing yourself and everyone else around you that you are a full-fledged witch. And then you learn during one of the history classes that a hybrid witch that shares two worlds forbidden from each other was subjected to execution if entered the soil of the Upper World. You never understood why such a thing as your existence had such dire consequences, but that just made you more aware of your lies to everyone in the Upper World.

Your mother raised you believing that love shouldn't be forbidden, no matter the circumstances, even if that meant two different worlds. The mundane world was like that too. Star-crossed lovers consisting of Romeo and Juliet, Jack and Rose, Joel and Clementine, your own parents— they're all the epitome of what your mother likes to gush on and on about. And in hindsight, you are the product of it.

Due to your inability to grow up with the other witches, you had almost the entire academy against you for the past few years, especially on Witch Trial Week, only for this year to completely change that.

In the mundane world, sports like kickboxing was one of your favorites, and while there was no such thing as kickboxing in the Upper World, your main characteristic was that you like to play rough. A tug a war, a game of chess— this year, you were not holding back.

"Don't be so quick to be disappointed, Piper."

Piper, one of your only purely good friends at Ember Academy, watches you grind up dried lavender buds in a hard stone mortar and pestle, making a few grinds before running an index finger along an old page of your mother's book you took without her permission. She plops down onto her seat in front of you, her dark purple hair bouncing on her shoulders as she taps on her star glitters on her face. "It's Witch Trial Week, ___. That means I have to witch-proof all of my belongings because Rina and her damn fritter friends are going to pull a last year's move."

"Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad," you state, pouring the crushed up lavender into a glass bottle that had frog mucus and torn rose petals sitting inside about one fourth of the way. Piper doesn't question what you were up to, only continuing to voice out her frustrations.

"They cursed my assignments! You know how many extra credit assignments I had to do? 200 points gone because of this bloody witch-made week!"

Smirking, you peer up at her before standing up from your seat to grab a large jar of purple dragon drool on a shelf right behind you, before sitting back down, "calm down, I have plotted the perfect revenge."

"What?" Piper raises an eyebrow, her facial expression looking concerned. "Is that dragon drool?"

Opening up the jar, Piper makes a sour face when the aroma of a putrid, green whiff draws out of the jar, you having to stifle in a cough at the stench that made no warning traveling up your sinuses. Bringing your index finger and thumb to pinch your nose, you grab the small wooden serving spoon attached to the side of it and put two heeping spoonfuls of the dragon drool into your concoction before swiftly shutting the jar and finally being able to breathe again.

Piper lets out an exhale she's been holding in, staring at you with wide eyes, waiting for an answer that you were sort of stalling as you rip up a piece of paper. "I borrowed my mother's infamous dark magic book."

She gulps at the sound of that. "Dark magic?"

"Calm down, it's not that bad," you roll your eyes at her fear of using an area of magic that you were technically not supposed to touch upon— but you couldn't help it. It's dark magic, it's bound to be used somehow. "Just going to tease around with Rina's emotions a bit. We all know she's been trying to hit on Namjoon despite her Complement is Doyeon. I'm making a simple love potion for Namjoon to fall in love with Rina— only for the week though. She'll be a bit heartbroken at the end, but hey, she stained my uniform with troll's blood last year."

Jung Rina, daughter of Ember Academy's high priestess, who also adapts an attitude problem. She likes to taunt other witches from afar because of the power she gains from being the high priestess's daughter, cursing and jinxing others and acting as if it wasn't her— she gets away with it anyways. Unsure why, even when you do mind your own business, it's as if Rina has something against you— you confirmed this when even after Witch Trial Week, she wouldn't stop jinxing you.

Last year, she took your uniform while you were showering after with a game of shuntbumps, only to wear a uniform stained with a bright yellow color leaving a horrendous, pungent smell of troll's blood. It was one of the most talked about trick for the year, everyone bringing up the fact that Ms. Jung Rina was able to get her hands on troll's blood and use you as a target. A laughing stock, the black sheep— you've endured it for long enough.

"You're using dark magic! On the high priestess's daughter! That's—"

"Risky? I could care less." You finish for her, shrugging. You write down the template for the love spell that was written in high level latin, writing it carefully letter by letter. As your quill inks the paper, you look at a sweating Piper momentarily. "Stop worrying! If anything, you're guilty by association."

Piper places her hands over eyes and sighs. "I did not see anything."

"No, you didn't," you muse along with her as you place your quill back into its holder and roll up the paper into a thin tube, tapping it into the bottle that finishes up the spell. You watch as the dragon's drool acidifies the paper, already acidifying the rose petals, ground lavender buds, and frog's mucus prior, all in all creating a lilac hue in the glass bottle. "See? It's done. Now I just need to pour this into his cup of juniper latte when we go to potions."

"Huh," Piper says aloud. "That's sneaky."

Clicking your tongue at her, you slam the dark magic book closed, quickly shoving it into your tote bag while you plug the glass bottle with a cork, gently placing it along with the magic book.

"May the games begin," you whisper audibly only for Piper to let out another sigh of disappointment, but also in anticipation.

Everything was going smoothly. Going to class was like a mission, having to make sure that you don't mindlessly enter a trap, but as you sit down in your seat, in the sight of Professor Young of where safe base was, you just had to get through this class without being suspicious. Despite all else, everything was smooth sailing. Even pouring the potion into Namjoon's juniper latte when he wasn't paying attention was easy. And you noticed that no one has caught you— yet.

In a whirl of lingering moments, the grace period, you were sat in your seat, reading your potions book when you hear an abrupt sound, you and almost everyone in the class looking up to see Namjoon, his told figure looming over the other students with eyes wide as day.

He makes one audible noise, "Rina," before dashing out of the potion room in a coarse and gawky manner, Professor Young calling after him while the rest of the class took it to their own accord to follow him, already presuming that something only Witch Trial Week can influence. Eventually, all classes grew curious of the commotion that people trickle into the crowd as they follow in a hearty distance from Namjoon's graceless gait.

You pull Piper to the side when you see Namjoon approach his and your target, standing from one of the many columns of the area to get a good look given by the angle you were given. Piper couldn't help but to let out an amused giggle when you both see the moment unfold in front of your eyes.

"Namjoon?" Rina speaks, her cheeks going red when she sees Namjoon on his knees, head down. You almost snort at how her eyes go wide when she finds her biggest crush right in front of her, thinking this was out of his own willingness— Namjoon actually being in love with Rina. "Namjoon, what are you doing?"

"I love you!"

The loud announcement rings and echoes in waves down the hallway, you and Piper already having a hard time stifling your laughter at the confession. Rina gulps before she lets out a scoff in disbelief, a smile creeping on her face as if this was a moment she was expecting. Her cockiness makes you want to gag.

"I love you with all my heart, Rina! I want to stay by your side forever!"

Whispers upon whispers dissipate into the air, one of concern, one of cheer for Rina, and one of straight amusement.

Rina raises her eyebrows, clearing her throat. "Namjoon."

"Please, keep me in your life," Namjoon states, almost like a whimper. In that moment, he peers up at Rina with huge bug eyes, as if he was really begging. The anticipation stabs at you like daggers as Rina continues to stare at him in both awe and confusion by the sudden confession. "Master."

The last word leaves his mouth almost like a mutter, and you were for sure, for a mere second, that you misheard him— everyone did, until you're finding Namjoon leap from his stance into Rina's arms, immediately peppering her with kisses on her cheeks, causing her to stumble backwards. The murmurs amongst the crowd grow, following with a few giggles as Rina is trying to push Namjoon away, trying to hold in her giggles.

"Namjoon," Rina says through fits of giggles as she brings her hands up to his chest, trying to keep some distance between them. "Namjoon, not—"

The words are taken out of her mouth when Namjoon, shamelessly and giddily swipes his entire tongue along her cheek, earning a large gasp from the crowd. It leaves not only you in shock, but as well as Rina who entirely freezes in realization of the contact that was just made. Your mouth hangs open, until you roll your lips inward, trying so very hard not to break into a fit of laughter.

"Wrong spell, you hobworm!" Piper whisper yells, slapping a hand on your arm as you let a snigger out, looking at your friend with amusement, wondering why she wasn't finding this just as funny as you did.

"Hobworm?" You gasp at her insult, your amusement unabashedly shining through.

Piper scowls at you, biting her tongue to prevent from encouraging you further into amusement. "You cast the wrong spell!"

As your smile grows, you shake your head. "No, I swear I didn't. I did everything correctly—"

"Then why on earth is Namjoon under a puppy love spell?"

Glancing your eyes at Rina, you hear whispers among the crowd who watch as she tries to push a puppy in love Namjoon away from her. He whines and whimpers each time she makes the distance greater between them.

"Who did this!" Rina exclaims, trying to push a licking Namjoon away from her. "Who in the heavens thought this was funny? I will be reporting this to my mother and every little squeamish fritter that allowed this to happen— no, Namjoon, bad dog!"

This allows you to snort, all your laughter you were containing bursting out as you couldn't hold it in anymore. However, doing so only allows Rina to make direct eye contact with you, her face twisting in volatile spite, knowing very well that you are the culprit. Widening your eyes, you began to run before your mind processed it.

"___!" Rina screeches from the tops of her lungs, everyone in front of you turning heads to find you, the witch who dared to pull a little stunt against the High Priestess's daughter.

Legs stride step by step, zooming through the halls with adrenaline pumping your veins as the wretched witch was probably right behind you, chasing you down when you hear the sounds of heels, knowing very well that's Rina's 3-inch heeled mules clacking in the distance. Professors peek their head out of their classroom in curiosity, some yelling at you to not run in the halls, however, your eye is set on the prize— the exit.

It was closed, and to save time, you swipe your hand in front of you, a spell recited in your head swinging the door wide open that it hits the walls and causes a loud slamming noise. It was the door that led out to the garden of the academy of where fresh herbs grew, and at this point of your escape plan, you were hoping to hide in the depths of the greenhouse until class ended.

You run down the steps, eyes looking down as your feet land on each step, careful not to miss one or you'd fall down to your doom. And just when you safely made it down the staircase, you are bumped into a wall of rigid flesh and muscle, your immediate reaction to apologize, except the words are taken out of your mouth when you look up and see the face on all pictures and drawings matching to the person who looked just as mesmerizing in person as he is on paper; the one and only—

"Your grace," Jungkook hears you sputter, shutting your eyes and lowering your head to hide your own embarrassment and disappointment in such a quick second. His men behind him step forward, but he raises a hand to halt them in their place. "My sincere apologies—"

"Do you have no mind?" Jungkook hears the secretary who was leading him on a tour around Ember Academy snap, her booming and high-pitched screech at the sheer shame that has been exchanged by this incident.

"I am so incredibly sorry, your grace. I am at fault—"

The king himself is not at all bothered by a simple bump by a young witch, considering that it seemed you were on the run from something. He glances down at you in subtle curiosity, your head bowed before him with your hair braided, as you stand still despite the constant nagging of the secretary scolding you for being so unaware. And something catches his eye.

His eyes focus in on the crystal of pale, fair, ivory that hangs on your neck. It twinkles in his sight with the sunlight just bouncing off of it into his cornea, right before he settles in recognition of where he recalls it. There's a swift movement moments later of where you raise your head just slight, only to lock eyes with him.

How you've grown, he thinks to himself. He remembers how your eyes were that of similar of a doe, and how you stared at him with the same wide eyes when you were little. It scares him how much time has passed and how you stand before him, more matured than before— he wasn't expecting to see you this soon.

The locked gaze lasted briefly before your eyes widen and you bring your head back down.

He manages to let out a sigh, "I suggest you pay attention where you are going in the future."

Jungkook can tell that you were surprised by his response, despite you committing the worst crime by even daring to be this close to the king. Even the secretary was a distance away from him.

"Yes, your grace."

"You may look up," he speaks. The permission makes you hesitate, but swallowing the lump in your throat, you inhale deeply and rise, and when you steadily meet his eyes, immediately, it's as if you could see his past. The pain and sorrow he has been through. It all encompasses into the hallows of his eyes.

"What is your name?" You blink at the question blankly as he awaits your answer, arching an eyebrow when you stay mute. "Well?"

"___," you answer. "My name is ___, your grace."

There's this glint in Jungkook's eye that even he is aware that you notice. It occurs to him that he has not once asked your name before, but somehow he finds it this moment valuable to gain that piece of you. Meanwhile, you hope he does not find any significance to your name, that this incident isn't one to be held against one day.

It's then, he smirks, giving a single nod, etching your name into his brain for he knows he will not forget it. 

"Your name will be in my memory, ___," he speaks ominously. Your heart drops in return. "You are dismissed."

six years later.

"Welcome."

The books weighed heavy in your arms, but you ignored the fact that it was nearly slipping out of your grasp as you gripped on the jar of dried magnolia leaves in the other hand, making your way to the small work table just right out into the shop of where you greet the presence inside the shop. Taking one last step to your marked destination, you let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders relaxing as you plop all of the buttery books onto the work table, still keeping the jar of magnolia leaves in your grasp.

"Is Circe here?"

At first, the voice processes in your mind, realizing that you were so engrossed on completing a minor trip without making a fool of yourself and dropping all your books at once that you forget for a mere moment that someone was in the shop. And what makes your whole body freeze like the ice age of modern day was the name you haven't heard in so long— only when your father would let it tumble out of his mouth and him being the last one to ever speak of the name.

The aura shifted within the shop. Not daring to turn around and meet eye to eye with the person who knows your mother's real identity, you keep your back turned away, placing the jar gently onto the table right next to your books, a pinky setting down first before gently setting down the bottom of the jar to relieve the loud sound it would have made.

"Who's asking?"

There's a moment of hesitation, one that you can only take in as sly and mischievous. Silently, you maintain a mantra in your head, one that recites a spell to freeze one's muscles entirely, the silence teeter totter between having to put the spell to use or not. The sound of a step is heard— one that sounds too close for your liking that in a whirlwind, you swiftly twirl around and let the mantra come to life in an instant, "carpe musculus."

And with wide eyes, you realize your mistake immediately when eyes lock with the ones that belong to the sheer ruler of the property you stand on— the king. It wasn't hard to forget them, since the last time you two had a rather unpleasant encounter. His eyebrow quirks up at your spell you casted upon him, his body completely frozen over as he was in the midst of grabbing one of the crystal necklaces hung on display at the register, an arm outstretched, but posture and dignified stature remained.

"An old acquaintance."

"Verto," you mutter, blinking with the same wide eyes as you see him gain control over his muscles again, his hand retracting and meeting his other hand from the behind, his throat clearing at the situation that he assumed— correctly— that you were fearful of. Bringing your head down instinctively, you open your mouth with eyes shut. "Your grace, I apologize—"

"Apology accepted," he cuts you off, making you peer up at his form from the curtains of your draping hair. Slowly, you rise your head, keeping your chin up to match his formal, dignified persona. "I am merely here to see your mother."

Scoffing lightly, you let your lips curl upward, turning around to grab at the jar of dried magnolia leaves from the table. "You must be an old acquaintance to call my mother by her real name," you take note aloud, wandering and maneuvering around the vast shop to the corner near the front of where the jars of special ingredients sit in the cupboards.

"Is Circe not what she goes by?"

You shake your head, opening the jar with one of the keys wrapped around your neck, twisting and turning before the cupboard unraveled a collection started by your mother. "Cora," you correct him. "She went by Cora."

"Very well then. Is Cora present?"

You blink at the question, mindlessly nudging the other jars to make room for your new ingredient you've obtained from the village due to a friendly seller who saved the leaves just for you.

"You just missed her," you announce, placing the jar snugly just between the phoenix feathers and pickled frog tongues. "By three years. She passed away."

"She passed?" The king speaks his question in subtle shock, evidently oblivious to your mother's passing, one that makes you question what connection he had to your mother as you turn around to meet his wide eyes. Politely, he realizes the atmosphere that was created and clears his throat. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"I'm sorry for yours," you try to keep the the spirits high, a teasing smile on your lips. "It seems like whatever reason you came here for was pretty important if the king is in need of my mother's services. And in replacement of my mother's absence, how may I assist you?"

In comparison to the young witch that was so invigorated with competition that you grew blind to your own surroundings, you were not like her to easily cower in front of intimidating figures— including the king— anymore. If she saw you now, she'd probably wonder why you are so nonchalant speaking to the king as you are in the moment, but there is one thing you noticed that allowed you to act the way that you are now.

He came into the shop looking for your mother, seeking for her services. Though he has the power to put you into exile or to chop your head off or to even rip your heart out of your chest, it means nothing when he is obviously wanting a favor.

Jungkook's eyes narrow slightly before he scoffs lightly. "Not quite sure if you can help me."

"I'm not that sure either," you muse. "But I am the next option to my mother's assistance. Or if you have no interest of my assistance, then I believe this shop is not meant for you, your grace."

It wasn't hard to notice that he was having an internal battle the minute you turned the other cheek to resume what you were doing. Shutting the cabinet and locking it, you wander to the back of the room of where the work table was, taking the top book of the stack and dusting it with one of your mini feather dusters.

"What do you know about Complements?"

Freezing your wrist, you take a second to process the question set in the air, your eyebrows furrowing. Setting the duster and the ancient novel down, you twirl around once more to meet the eyes of the distant king, each second becoming more comfortable under his gaze that seemingly brought temptation and fear amongst others.

"Depends. I'm not very interested in the topic enough to know the ins and outs of it. However, I do know how to expose a Compliment tie—"

"What about erasing a Complement tie?"

An eyebrow shoots up on your face, his questions becoming more questionable from your mere curious uprising, but as you let his inquiry sit in your mind, you shrug. "Never been done."

His grace scoffs, allowing the pad of his thumb swipe under his nose before returning to hold his hand from his behind. "That's what your mother said."

"And I'm afraid, to this day, her word remains true," retorting to his attitude, you fold your arms over your chest. "However, I can unknot a Complement tie if needed."

"Your mother has already done that."

"Of course she has," you roll your eyes, realizing that the more you talk to the king of Frawen, the more you realize that you were talking to a wall. "How about this? I will do some digging about it in her archives. She has mentioned before that terminating a Compliment tie is hard. However, I do believe it's not impossible." He stares at you attentively before you placate his energy with a smile, a little light of hope intended. "I will come by your castle once I've retrieved a decent amount of information."

He stays silent, a steady gaze on your eyes that slowly made you more uncomfortable with each passing second, but thank the dark lords that someone enters your shop, the door making a very loud entrance that ruined the staring contest between you two, your eyes averting to the customer who entered the premises.

"Welcome," you announce, strolling from the work table up to the front to sit right behind the register, flickering your eyes towards the king when seeing that he hasn't moved from his spot. "Until then, King Jungkook, I have a customer to attend to."

The customer that saved the awkward tension takes a step into the shop, but with a single glance headed their way from the king, the customer drops their head and mutters an, "I'll wait outside" and flees back into the Upper World sun, the door shutting again. Lips parting, you gape at Jungkook who looks back at you, ignoring that his own presence had made one of your customers scurry off in intimidation.

"When will I hear from you again?"

Scoffing at him, you shake your head at his evident advantage and inhale deeply. "I'll start doing some research tonight, your grace. Expect me in front of your castle in two days. And if you could kindly so, can you tell my customer they may come in on your way out?"

He lets his gaze linger on yours for a second before silently nodding on his way out, his presence exchanged for the customer's. The customer glances at you awkwardly as you count write something on a piece of paper with your quill, as if confused that you were not trembling after just speaking with the king, but going back to your normal day as if the king had never arrived.

"Why, King Jungkook came to visit. Quite sooner than I expected," the amused tone that drips from Circe's tongue when she notices the arrival of none other than the King of Frawen just two weeks after he had gone up and left her abode after the reveal of his dreaded Complement tie.

"Came to greet a happy birthday to her?" The witch doesn't meet his brooding gaze, but gathers bouquets of flowers in her hold.

"No," he flatly states. "I still have a favor to ask of you."

"Ah," Circe nods, balancing the bouquet carefully before tossing her aging hair over her shoulder. "The one about your Complement? You left so quick the last time we spoke."

Jungkook clenches his jaw, an attempt to not forget that his own fear and apprehension after making the forsaken revelation that he had met his Complement so soon; a child— a hybrid, a product against the Upper World law— is his Complement. Curse himself for being so easily affected.

And while the two have known each other for awhile, Circe wastes no time to remind him of inevitable fate, despite her own idea of the past he carries. It weighs on him heavily that even Circe cannot recognize the aura of whom she once knew of.

"Yes," he inhales sharply. "I need you to erase it."

Circe bellows a light chuckle, one that makes his eyebrows raise at the response. "Are you insinuating I kill my daughter?"

Jungkook knows that the witch likes to dig in places to prevent the other party from kicking around the bush. She hates fluff and she hates time being wasted. Only now, giving up her eternal life only makes her that much crabbier about it.

"Do you believe that I'd be daft enough to try to imply such a thing?" He shakes his head, a slight smirk growing on his face. "Murder doesn't sit very well on my shoulders, Circe. You must at least know that much of me."

"Do I? It's been too long."

Jungkook smiles at the grinning witch, "I am insinuating you sever our Complement tie."

The witch in decorative forest green and black, stares at the king who wears a sack-colored cloak that did not do justice hiding his black, feathered doublet that resembled such royalty and wealth. Even with the hood on, it is no mistaking that the man with raven hair and pale, glimmering skin, is the king. She laughs, her finger tapping against the paper wrapped around the bouquet of plum-hued calla lilies. "I'm afraid I can only live up to your favor in part."

"The most powerful witch I know cannot cut a Complement tie?"

She is no stranger to his challenges, but because she has no need to maintain the name of being the infamous witch who wields such immense power no longer (as she knows that name will be given to someone much worthy), she merely shrugs, a smile on her face. "Not even I know how to cut a Complement tie, dearest Jungkook."

"Your lack of knowledge of erasing something as mere as a Complement tie is disconcerting, Circe."

The witch hums in response, before whispering something of broken latin, and with a waver of a her fingers, a string of deep scarlet attaches against Jungkook's chest, one that floats in the air and trails in a ragged line right over Circe's shoulder and through the wooden door of her home as if he were tied to something— to someone.

The unveiling of the string causes Jungkook's breath to be caught in his throat, a pinch of nothing like before right against his chest of where the string is attached to.

"I see that, despite your best efforts, you could not stray away from her. And you want to know why?" Circe turns over her shoulder, before pointing at the single evident knot made along the string. "This knot was formed when she touched you and so long as it is there, you will live in constant yearning to see her and to be with her. Tell me, how many times have you had to prevent yourself from coming here until it became too unbearable?"

"Can you reverse it? Untie the knot?" His breath is tattered, uneven. It's as if the exposure of the string wrapped every inch of his heart and silently, the king of Frawen fears that his heart might be taken out of his chest.

"I can," she nods, an expression of indifference on her face. "But doing so does not change the fact that you are each other's Complements. It means that you will no longer feel the constant and desperate need to see her."

"Then I beg of you to do it—"

"However, the bond is strong, Jungkook," her gold eyes stare back at him before they soften, as Jungkook's mental mantras to fight off the peculiar pain deriving from the scarlet string has become a door to all of the pains he has experienced in the past. "I fear that the more you leave it in the dark, the more it will create more conflicts in the future."

"Having this complement now is already creating conflicts for me, Circe."

"Jungkook, if you two were to see each other again by the universe's happenings, must you know that the knot cannot be made again by simple touches. It has to be tied by the hand of a witch."

"If it's not any burden to you," he breathes in sharply. "I'd like you to unknot our Complement tie."

Circe makes a face of indifference before sighing. "Very well," she states just before she mumbles another string of latin and snaps, and lo and behold, the knot unravels by itself. The scarlet rope looked like it had no indentation of where the knot once was.

Jungkook lets out an aching sigh, as if he was under water for too long. Circe makes one more movement of her hand before the red string dissipates into the air, no longer exposed to the eye.

"There," she says. "Now leave, before she sees you again."

Circe doesn't give Jungkook a look of goodbye as she hurries inside her house. She feels the presence of Jungkook leave, exhaling in relief as she peers down at her daughter who gleams up at her, her hair in two buns on either side of her head. Her daughter lets out a squeal of "mommy!" before dropping a sage bundle in her hand to run up and hug Circe's leg.

"Happy birthday, my dear. Six years old already?" The witch pats her daughter's head as she giggles against her. "Go on into the kitchen. I'll be there in a moment."

And as she turns around to trot inside the kitchen, Circe takes notice of her neck that has been exposed due to her hairstyle that she wanted to wear this morning. The etching of her Complement mark that once inked her skin of a rose, had become a blank canvas.

As if the mark was never there to begin with.

You haul across the other wing of the castle that stretches from the main entrance of where the gigantic black, grandiose door stares at you mockingly for not having the privilege to be invited by the king himself as well as enter the main entrance to unravel the glory of what stood for centuries.

Servants of the fairest skin and darkest of hairs escort you to the a room you are unsure of, but you don't question them when they open the doors for you of the building. This was as close you were ever getting to the castle.

"Your grace," you announce your arrival before you could realize that another man stands there from the side of your kingdom's king. Freezing in place with books tensing against your chest, your lips part. "King Jimin—!"

"Hello— oh, please. I don't like the bowing," his voice is light, a striking contrast from Jungkook's ominous tone. You lift your head that was on the way down of honorability, eyes staying wide at his unexpected presence. "Trust me, I'm not a big formalities type of person like my brother."

"What is it? Did you find anything?" The king ruins the moment by his barking, an impatience growing in his chest.

You open your mouth, and close it. "Yes, and no."

"Proceed."

Walking over to the table, Jimin smirks when he hears the loud plop that comes from your stacks of ancient books slapping on the table, dust sprinkles in the air by such impact as you wave it dismissively out of your face to spread out the books evenly.

"These are just merely collections my mother had of Complement ties laying out and about," you begin, grabbing hold of the green and gold accented leather bind novel of browning pages. "They all talk about the history of it, the perspectives of it, and some old spells that used to be done moderately back then, but have been taken out of a witch's curriculum in school. Oh, like this one goes on and on about the importance of it and why finding out who your Complement is before you meet them is deemed as bad luck. Like seeing the bride before the wedding, which actually originated from arranged marriages when— sorry, tangent. If I can just find the book..." As your voice trails, your eyes furrow in concentration to find the book amongst the pile you brought that would deem as very important.

Finally, you hold it up to and pat it, Jungkook raising an eyebrow and Jimin looking bemused at your inner workings being elicited through your rambles and tangents.

"This is where I stumbled upon something fruitful," you began. "It's a book that's anti-Complement. The author was actually a witch who thought his Complement was, and I quote, "vile and tremendously horrendous", so he composed this book that explains how to unknot the Complement tie."

"Nothing about cutting it?"

You smile as you open the book. "There's a whole chapter about it, but," as you flip open to it, the book in your hands bursts into bright blue flames illuminating your skin with a blue tint before it calms down, living proof that the book itself was cursed, either by the author or your mother's doing. "The book has been cursed and the most vital information you want means you're not the only one who is searching for a severance."

"Couldn't you just... cut it?" King Jimin chimes in and you shake your head.

"No, this witch said that cutting it would damage the blade and not the tie," you close the book to prevent the fire from getting anywhere. "The tie itself, when exposed, is simply a scarlet rope. Its material is very ethereal and even your finest sword cannot cut it in two."

"Brilliant," Jungkook says, defeatedly. He sucks in a deep breath before looking at you, eyes flickering up and down your form. "When will I hear from you again?"

Making a loud sound as you stack the books on top of each other, you look up at him and raise an eyebrow. "Again? You're expecting me to continue the search for an answer that I can't give you? This is all the information that I can gather from my mother's archive. I don't know what else you expect me to do."

"What the daughter of the most powerful witch of this kingdom can do, of course," he retorts, easily. It makes you scoff.

"I apologize, your grace, but I am not going through those extra lengths."

"For someone who adheres to formalities very often, you don't seem to be very intimidated by me. At least not enough to do what I say."

"Is your job as a king to be intimidating?"

It was that type of riposte that would have your head, an immediate escort to your death for even thinking that a cocky retort would come out of your mouth. If only if Jimin hadn't let out an amused snort, punishment would not have immediately be put off the table, but the irritation forming in the king's blood remains. He doesn't turn to his brother to hush him, but rather keeps a heavy stare at you, narrowed eyes into slits as a heavy warning— yet you stay grounded, raising an eyebrow at him.

"And you don't seem to know when to not speak your mind."

"With all due respect, King Jungkook, may I remind you I am here because you requested my services. I've given you what I can provide, free of charge. My mother has probably dealt with a customer who has wanted the same thing, and if the book was cursed, it's a heavy sign that it's not a wise path to follow."

King Jungkook inhales deeply, eyes staring at the hybrid who fears nothing under his gaze. He mentally curses to himself knowing very well that Circe was the most probable culprit of cursing her own books, for the sole reason of not wanting him to get his hands on vital information that would separate a Complement tie attached to her own daughter. Sighing, he makes a dismissive nod towards you, a finger tapping on his arm chair repeatedly. "Very well. Dismissed."

And without a word, you gather your things and leave, the same men escorting you away from the castle and the inconsiderate king.

Once your presence no longer lingered, Jungkook sinks down into his chair, letting his head fall against the fist of his arm that propped it up. Jimin clicks his tongue beside him.

"Now tell that was not who I thought that was," Jimin sings once the door had fully shut closed and it was just Jungkook and his brother of the neighboring kingdom.

"Your instincts are spot on, brother," Jungkook says with heavy sarcasm, shaking his head.

Jimin heartily laughs. "It doesn't take a Merlin to see that she's your Complement. It's quite obvious."

"Care to go more in depth?"

"Other than the fact that she's the only outsider you granted a visit at your castle, you're not so quick to throw her out either," he begins before tapping his finger on the table. "You also don't like looking her in the eye. You get tense when you do. Either you fear her or you fear getting close to her."

Jungkook raises an eyebrow in surprise at his brother's quick observation— it must be all the times he's observing human behavior in the mortal world.

"She's mentioned that her books derive from her mother's archives— is her mother...?"

"Her mother was the one that undid our Complement knot."

"Her mother was the infamous Circe, then?" Jimin marvels with his signature taunting smirk on his face. "Well, I'll be damned."

"You already are," Jungkook rolls his eyes.

"Your Complement is a hybrid— and not just a hybrid, Circe's daughter?" Jungkook didn't like that his own brother kept reminding him of who his Complement was, thus encouraging the fire of searching for a severance. "Despite the fact that she holds tremendous power, she seems very promising. You're not fond of her?"

"Jimin, you know—"

"Right, pardon me. You don't want her," Jimin inhales deeply, nodding.

"Jimin," Jungkook begins once again. "I can't have her as my Complement. I need her to find a spell to wither our tie."

"Is there another reason why you need to find such spell other than you're dreading that she's bound to you?"

"So that she could find real love and romance. She will not find it with me."

There was an unreadable look in Jimin's face that even his own brother could not decipher. It lingers for a moment before he makes the executive decision to stand up from the seat, knocking on the table with his pale knuckles. "I'm heading back to Merosa. May I make the suggestion that you take her to Sagewood?"

"Sagewood? Why in the heavens would I take her there?"

"If you want to cut the tie so badly, then I think it wouldn't be a very shabby place to start, no? After all, she only has access to such limited information— you're not being much help either. Besides, you both will most likely find something valuable there."

It was pruning day.

The plants you planted outside your windowsill in its respected pots looked green as ever, with some minor flaws sticking out. You walk outside with shears in hand, identifying the buds you'd snip off with love. You enjoy taking care of your plants, the only common denominator between this world and the mundane world that gave you a sense of normality.

Humming an old folk tune from the mundane world, you admire your plants, recalling that some of these plants were the ones your mother would plant back in the mundane world. As you snip off one of your greenery, you hear the faint sounds of neighs from afar, halting in front of your shop and creating audible commotion behind your back. You overhear your neighbors rush out of their respected buildings, having you grow curious by the second.

Raising an eyebrow, you turn around to find nothing but the king hopping off his trusty steed of ebony glory with a luscious mane, planting his feet flat onto the ground with ease while two other men follow his lead, staying a hearty distance from him. He meets your eyes immediately, ignoring that everyone around him are caught in a trance by his sudden appearance in the town.

"King Jungkook," you marvel with a smirk, ignoring the fact that your neighbors were staring in mixed awe and fear. "What a lovely surprise."

He approaches you, stepping onto the gravel, expressionless. "I request your stay at my castle."

The words don't process fast enough in your mind, a blank expression being your response, but even then, you couldn't help but to laugh, but it came out more like a baffled scoff. "I beg your pardon?"

"To make use of the castle's library," he fills in, a smirk painting his face. "We, too, have an archive for all things your curious, knowledgable mind may want to see. Thousands of collections over the centuries, compilations from notable figures. I'm giving you access to that information in search of the severance."

You gape at him, lowering your shears. The king takes this action with positivity as his smirk only grows for a second before he's back to his emotionless expression.

"I will have my men come by to escort you to the castle tomorrow morning at nine-hundred. Pack your things," he says with no confirmation from you. His passive command makes you blink while you watch him turn his shoulder.

Amidst his turn to head back to his source of transportation and the other men who stand in front of your property, you stop him, "really? And when have I agreed?"

His body comes to a full stop just a hearty amount of distance from you. "And you wouldn't?" He calmly states aloud. In a moment, he's turning his body back to completely face you, cocking his head slight. "Tell me, you're not at all curious about how to cut a Complement tie?"

"Why would I? I have no intention of doing so."

"So you'd want to stay bound to one person your whole life? When you meet your Complement, you want to be so attached to the point that being even just miles away from them tears you apart? Every second you do not see them is as if your heart is being shredded apart in layers. Finding out who your Complement is only ruins you in a way that is a hell disguised as a heaven," he says as if it were straight spitfire. There was remorse and dread in his voice that even you cannot decipher completely— as if the pain that courses through his vein is truly authentic.

"In the mundane world, it's different, no? Humans fall in love with who they want, when they want. Did you ever compare that to the Upper World where it is frowned upon to not be with your Complement?"

"They differ, yes," you say through gritted teeth.

"Are you not so curious as to how to sever the tie? To at least be one of the first witches in centuries to hold great knowledge of a severance? That maybe you would one day change your intentions to cut your tie?"

You stay silent, placing your shears down as you stare at him attentively. Sure, you were curious, but your curiosity grew more prevalent seeing how the king was doing so much as to using a rhetoric tactic to ease your answer into a yes. And oddly enough, it was working.

"Besides... free stay, breakfast— in the castle? Surrounded by all things good and gold?"

Letting out a scoff, you narrow your eyes at him. "Is that your way of paying me for my services? A bed and breakfast at the castle? A week to pretend I'm royalty?" Challenge dripped from your tone evidently, but while the others around you and nearly the whole kingdom all feared the king's presence, you didn't share the same feeling. After all, this was the king asking for your services.

And suddenly, his expression changes, one of seriousness turned into dry amusement as he lets out a deep laugh bellowing from his stomach. "No, I'm offended that you may think I'm that cheap," he states as you raise an eyebrow, stabbing your shears, sharp point down into the window sill just right behind your plants. "I may have taken advantage of your services before, forgetting my place as a client to you. For that, I apologize sincerely. I am offering pounds of gold to you in exchange that you continue your search to cut a tie."

"Pounds of gold?"

"I notice that you live in your shop," he speaks of apparentness, making your cheeks go red as he turns his gaze to look at the shop behind you, a place you vaguely remember growing up in. "After your mother died, you decided to turn your home into a shop? Selling your services?" In that moment, you freeze only slight, caught off guard by how easily he put two and two together, you merely forgetting that he was an "acquaintance" with your mother— of course, he knew of this property before you probably were born.

"If the pounds of gold are not enough, I would be glad to make your stay at the castle permanent after you've found the severance."

You raise your eyebrows at his offer, never missing the way his lips quirked upwards for a ghostly second when he sees he's appealing you in the right direction.

"A permanent stay at your castle? As what? Your mistress? A maid?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Of course not. Your mother would find a way to resurrect herself to rid of my existence if she found out that I made you, her daughter, a mistress. Let alone a maid."

"You will be staying at my castle free of charge. And while I know this shop has been dear to your mother— dear to you, I am also willing to put a new location in the center of Sapphire Hill for your services on the table. Closer to the castle and in the heart of Frawen. That is, only if you have a mind to accept my proposal."

Inhaling sharply, you both stare at each other in silence as your mind juggles and he patiently awaits your answer, his body still as a stone, probably cold as one too. There was no other ulterior option to choose from— after all, why would you decline such a proposal? You were just as curious about the severance as he was, wondering why your mother never wanted to stray close to that path and why she has never mentioned about it before. And perhaps, you too could also cut your tie before you ever get to find your Complement if you ever came down to it.

However, despite his generous offers for a mere severance, there was a deep feeling in your stomach that didn't sit very well with you, one that was silently yearning you to not accept. It felt alarmingly unnatural. Just as unnatural as interacting with the king up close three times in a month.

"Alright," you sigh, defeatedly, grabbing your shears from the wood and returning to pruning day. "You've appealed to me."

"Wonderful," he acknowledges, a single celebratory nod coming your way before he turns around to head back on his steed. "I will have people to escort you tomorrow. Nine-hundred."  

"Quite a castle," you announce, eyes boggling at the interior design of the castle you never thought you'd see in person. Hell, you didn't think you'd ever get to see it closer than it being on top of the hill until just previously.

The halls were a fair color accented with alluring gold, intricate designs resembling a brush stroke, as if the gold were painted free-handedly, yet a symmetry being maintained. Crimson rugs, drapes, furniture dabble the expense of the hallway itself, and ebony statues and sculptures stare back at you broodingly. Two broad statues of fairies introduce you on either side of the entrance, facing each other with conch shells held to their mouths.

Selene purrs in your arms, probably just as dazzled at the structure as you are. "I know, baby, I know," you mutter under your breath as your pace slows along the red carpet.

"___." The voice announcing your name echoes throughout the vast hallway, pulling you out of your thoughts and daydreams as you peer towards the grandiose staircase ahead, finding a familiar figure in red with accenting white tassels walk down the steps, slowly and gracefully.

Selene suddenly paws out of your grasp to be let go of, you lowering her down to the floor carefully as you know that she likes to roam around new and foreign areas by herself.

"Your grace," you acknowledge, pacing towards him to meet him in the middle, eyes watching Selene trot along the scarlet carpet just in front of you, only to realize that she made her independent way to the king. You arch an eyebrow when Jungkook stops his footing altogether, both of you noticing Selene taking a liking into him, purring against his leg and her tail curling around his calf, making elegant circles around him in adoration. "I see Selene likes you."

Jungkook coughs before removing his eyes from the feline to meet yours. "You have a cat."

"I do," you nod. "Is she not allowed in the castle?"

"I'll make the exception," Jungkook swallows as Selene rubs her cheek against his leg. You mentally thank Selene for kissing his arse, knowing that Jungkook might have gone soft for your feline friend immediately and discarded the direct thought of kicking her out.

"I was given her a couple years back."

"Were you?"

You hum in response. "Given to me as a gift for my birthday. I named her after selenite, one of my favorite crystals."

"As long as she doesn't get into anyone's way, your feline company is welcome. However, if she were to be causing mischief, do not be blowed if she is in your soup," the king warns as he turns around, a hand motioning you to trail behind him, but the whole situation nearly made you snort out loud. Was that humour in his voice?

Following him, you scoop Selene with a hand as you caught up to her, cutting her curiosity trip short as you did not want to have her disappear and find her as your dinner, despite King Jungkook's warning sounding slightly sarcastic. His foot steps climbing up the stairs echo, his boots emphasizing his steps as you follow a few steps behind him, your flats being light-sounded from underneath you.

The Upper World resembled a victorian age from the mundane world. As much as you missed your tennis shoes and trousers, the Upper World called for bell-shaped dresses, the air-sucking corsets, and uncomfortable shoes that hurt your back if standing for too long.

As King Jungkook walks down the spacious hall with such glorious designs, you notice that there were two beautiful women in gray high neck dresses, eggshell aprons wrapped around their waist standing on the side with head lowered. Despite their dull attire, their appearance is what caught your eye.

The one on the right had skin of the bluest topaz with complementing navy hair tied up into a sleek bun. If she had looked up earlier, you would admire her sunshine eyes that made her look so kind. The on the left had contrasting mauve skin and emerald hair flowing down her shoulders. She wore a headband to keep her hair out of her face.

Nymphs.

"Cricket, Calla," the king's voice ruined the solace of the hallway, the snap of both ethereal beings' heads making direct eye contact with King Jungkook, you catching the hazel eyes of the mauve skinned beauty for a split second before she keeps steady eye contact with the person she serves.

"They will be serving you throughout your stay," he states towards you, a nod cueing the two nymphs accordingly.

"Good morning, ___. I am Calla," the topaz nymph speaks first, bowing her head as you respectfully did the same.

"And I, Cricket," her partner speaks, bowing as well.

"It is lovely to meet you both, Calla and Cricket," you speak with a kind tone as they give the smallest of shy smiles.

"Aster and Fickle are unloading the carriages. They will be up to bring her belongings in any minute. You may start unpacking—"

"Oh no, that's not necessary," you intervene. The king sends you a glare for interrupting him, but daringly, you roll your eyes at him. "Cricket, Calla, just have Aster and Fickle leave my luggages on my bed. I didn't pack heavy, so it's alright. I'd prefer if I unpack myself."

"As you wish," Cricket and Calla say in unison before King Jungkook gives one last asserting, yet hesitating nod, turning his shoulder to continue walking down the hall.

"Come. I will show you the library," he orders, having you share one last look at the beautiful nymphs who both smile at you. In that moment, you give them a smile that you hoped would make them feel safe— as if you all have been friends before. As you tear your eyes away, you trot up to the king's pace, Selene being safe in your arms as you mentally curse the king for having long legs.

Walking for nearly a minute or two, you didn't realize he had stopped in front of large double doors, black wood engraved with the exact designs you recall in the main entrance, intriguing you with every bit. You blink for a nanosecond until you hear the door unlock and open, having to blink once more when you see that the king was only a few feet away from the immense opening, arms held behind his back as the door widened.

"Did you do that?" You question aloud. It sounded very mundane of you— as if you had not seen anything weirder in the Upper World.

"Yes," he speaks, raising an eyebrow at you as you wait for the doors to open fully. "I am a Pureblood, aren't I?"

His reminder made you realize that you did indeed forget that Purebloods hold some sort of power. It was only the three kings who held such powers, being why they were named the most powerful trio over centuries to live. Unsure why, you didn't take the King of Frawen to hold telekinesis, if anything.

The doors finally stop opening, two grand doors coming to a halt on either side of the opening and creating an entrance to a room that already has your mouth hung open.

"This is the library," he speaks, taking a step in first. "All of Frawen's greatest works over the centuries are all kept in here."

It was not the immense room that was its own castle itself, but it was the giant collections, endless spines of literature and word composition that was tempting you to swallow all of the knowledge up from them.

"These are the collections of Edgar Allen Poe," you observe, remembering that you had to read one of his famous works in your mundane junior high, the eerie components of his pieces standing out to you enough that you recall his name. "The Upper World holds mortal works?"

"Just the finer ones. Homer, Machiavelli, the Brontë sisters, Cordelia Maine—"

You widen your eyes. "No way. Cordelia Maine? You have her works, too?"

"Of course," he laughs at your never-ending bafflement. "She might be famous to you mortals, but her roots don't stray away from Frawen."

"Mortals," you repeat, catching his word that he knowingly categorizes you. It makes you blink up at him, more concerned why you weren't feeling as uneasy as you should that the king who stands in front of you and has brought you inside his castle knows you're the product against the Upper World law. "Dare I ask how you know this?"

The king smirks at you, probably bemused at how you weren't exactly trembling in your boots, but you probably have a spell prepared at the tip of your tongue. "Do you forget that I can smell your blood? You reek of mortals."

Arching an eyebrow at him, you narrow your eyes just slight. "Should I be worried?"

He smirks. "That I hold such knowledge? No, or else I would have no way to find a severance now, would I?" His rhetorical question is followed with a quirk of his eyebrow, a bemused smile illuminated from the indirect sun from the window. "Besides, your mother and I were acquaintances. I am well aware of your father and while I have never met him, I do know that your mother loved him, even if they were worlds apart."

Not saying another word, you smile. One that lingers on your face for a bit, one that is shared between you and the king, one that is as if you two have created some sort of connection by this secret he finds indifference to.

However, you do not let the smile linger for too long, for you cannot trust anyone so easily, no matter if your heart is oddly beating out of your chest and there is an odd stir in your stomach when his eyes remain on your form for a moment as if he is trying to study you and your every feature.

You disregard it though, as if a chip on your shoulder, or a hair in your face when he leads you back to your room from the grand library, claiming he has work to finish.

Later that afternoon, you were in the midst of unpacking your luggages when Calla and Cricket make an appearance into your room. They were there to escort you to lunch, but you told them to give you a few minutes to organize your things, encouraging them to wait in your room as you did so.

"Are you his betrothed?"

The sudden question makes you stumble, nearly dropping the books in your hand that you deemed most viable to bring to this trip. "Sorry?" You laugh, looking at them with a sheepish smile. A harmless question, but a stretch to inquire.

"Isn't that why he's having you stay here at the castle?" Cricket asks, keeping her hands intertwined in front of her as they both watch you organize your knick-knacks of books and crystals and Selene's toys.

"Oh to the heavens, no," you laugh, Cricket furrowing her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side, wondering why your peculiar stay at the castle isn't for that singular motive. "I'm here for an entirely different reason."

Calla blinks blankly, her long, blue lashes making it obvious. "Our king doesn't usually like to keep guests overnight— let alone indefinitely."

Placing your books onto the antique dresser, you raise an eyebrow at them. "Is that right?"

"We thought, perhaps, this was his attempt in courting you," Cricket says, rather timidly. "After all, you're very beautiful."

The compliment brings red to your cheeks. "You're just saying that—"

"But, 'tis true," Calla nods. "We're nymphs—"

"We can't lie—"

"We thought that he may have found love again—"

"We would be surprised if he didn't find you, at the very least, beautiful—"

"Our king doesn't open a room for just anyone, since he's very..."

"Closed off."

They jump off their sentences swiftly, as if a ball ricocheted against the walls in great speed and force. It intrigues you as you furrow your eyebrows, more interested in the last part they had to say. "Closed off? Why is that?"

Cricket and Calla look at each other before bringing their head down. "Have you not heard of his past?" You shake your head before Calla sighs and begins again. "Our king is the most kind, most fair— but it does not redirect the light away from his past—"

"Lost the people most close to him. Lost his mind along the way, and perhaps, most tragically, lost his soul. It began with Dawn and then his best friend who happened to be his general, and then his parents, and so on. They are frightened of him."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Who's they?"

"All of Frawen. Even those in the mundane world have heard of his story," Cricket answers.

"Frawen respects our king, if anything. However, that respect derives from fear. I'm afraid that the people in this castle are the only people who love him, who see the better in him."

"So I see it's been a lonely castle on this hill," you nod in understanding. "I won't bombard you both with anymore questions. You both are free to leave, I will meet you both in the dining room."

"Are you sure, my lady?"

"I'm sure. Please, I do not want to be a burden to you both."

The nymphs giggle. "We assure you that you are not. It's rather refreshing to tend to someone other than the king and his brothers."

"You both have been very kind. I will see you both there."

"And my lady," Cricket speaks. "We wish you a wonderful stay."

"Jungkook," Circe acknowledges his presence in a blink of an eye the minute he makes a step onto the property that was under an invisibility spell for nearly a decade, only to have it reappear as if it didn't disappear in the first place. "Here to welcome me back?"

The king lowly laughs, not taking another step onto the property as Circe turns around from watering her deep red rose bushes planted right outside. "I was surprised to hear that you made a foolish decision to move to the mundane world."

Circe ticks her tongue, shaking her head at how his prejudice against the humans stain his tone. "I don't believe it was foolish, dear Jungkook."

"Is that what you tell the Counsel?"

Circe lets out an amused sound, maneuvering around her bushes. "The Counsel can believe what they want, but they hold nothing against me. By law, I am allowed to be here and to be there. I may be a witch, aging like a mere mortal, but I still uphold powers strong enough to burn them alive before they can even think of crossing me."

"I have no doubt," Jungkook smirks. "But by law, is your daughter allowed to be here?"

Circe pauses her watering, hose in hand halting with the water continuously drenching a part of the rose bush as she raises an eyebrow. "Why are you here, Jungkook?"

"I heard she attends Ember Academy now. Enrolled as a full-fledged witch. I've come bearing a gift for her."

"A gift?"

"Call it a welcome back gift," he speaks with an anticipating tone right before he walks over to his horse of where a woven basket was attached to the saddle. Circe remains where she stands, watching him carefully as he walks towards her before she senses something, one that makes her hair stand on her arms. As he nears, Circe peeks into the basket, only to have her jaw drop as she sees that it is a kitten.

A kitten of midnight beauty, sleeping soundly in its basket of blankets.

Circe, who could not help it at all, laughs. Soft laughter rumbles through her throat as she coos at the creature, reaching her hands out to take the basket in her hands. "And your arrival has nothing to do with the fact that today is her birthday?"

"Is that today?" Jungkook ponders aloud as Circe laughs, sneaking a smirk on his face before she strokes a finger on the kitten's head carefully and gently. She can tell that he remembers, and that the years leading up to now, he always have.

Sighing, Circe's smile fades as she looks up at Jungkook, tired eyes and all. "I must tell you, Jungkook."

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"I've grown ill," she begins, retracting her finger from the kitten to hold the basket with two hands. "I have been for awhile now and I can feel my end nearing. I trust to believe that you will protect her."

Jungkook blinks a couple times, the odd construct of having someone who has been around for longer than he has tell him explicitly that their end is inevitable and that it was nearing quite sooner than he expected was worth a double take and a few seconds to digest.

"You may not want to stay tied to her, but I trust you enough to uphold her secret. And to protect her when needed," the kitten purrs meekly in the basket, making Circe glance at it for a mere moment before meeting the concerned eyes of Jungkook with matching knitted eyebrows. "Believe that I am not entrusting you with her life, but that the feeling in your heart of wanting to protect her is inevitable. No matter if the knot remains untied."

He opens his mouth, but the words he could not formulate were taken away quickly by Circe's chuckle, waving him off.

"I know what you'll say," she raises an eyebrow, lips curling and eyes creating crescents. "But if anything happens in the future, must you know you have my blessing."

"Circe," he begins.

"She'll appreciate this kitten," Circe interrupts, smiling at how the kitten inhaled and exhaled, curling in its ball with comfort of the soft fleece blankets. "I'm sure you don't want her to know it came from you, perhaps?"

There is a knowing look that the two share, one of pure guise. "May it be our little secret."

"Among thousands," Circe nods, one in which Jungkook does the same. "Will this be the last time we meet?"

"I would hope not."

"Then I bid you farewell, either for now or forever," Circe smiles, a weak curl of her lips, an evident form that made Jungkook realize that she looked much older than before— the gray hairs, her smile lines and forehead wrinkles. It all reminded Jungkook that she is, in fact, a pure mortal, withering faster than most. It scares him, but it makes him curious as to her motive despite him knowing that she did it out of love.

As he leaves the ebony kitten in Circe's hands to give to her daughter's possession, he departs her property with the lingering thought that maybe— perhaps people really do scary things out of love.

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.14)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Fourteen) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,549 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death Author’s Note: Steve’s gaslighting and emotional abuse is starting to sink in for her near the end. Just a warning.

Part Thirteen || Part Fifteen || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

The ride home was uncomfortable. Not space wise, you had enough between Steve and Bucky in the middle row of seats in the SUV. No, it was uncomfortable because everyone was going on about their business like they had not just hijacked you from a cabin. Bucky and Steve were both on their phones, sending e-mails or checking documents. Clint was driving, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel to the music. Sam was staring out the window, watching the scenery go by. You could not see Natasha behind you but you were sure she was as relaxed as the rest of them.

Steve brought his phone up to his ear at one point and you heard on the other end, “Murdock Birth Center.”

“Yeah, I need to make a check-up appointment with Dr. Kamal,” Steve stated. You remembered you had had an appointment then and felt a pang of guilt. “As soon as possible please. For Y/N Y/LN. Hmm. Yeah, that will work. I’ll be sure to have her there.” He shot you a look and you averted your gaze. He thanked the person before hanging up.

You felt him still looking at you for a few moments and you turned your head towards Bucky’s window to avoid looking at him.

They did not take you home though, you went back to the facility. Questions itched but you were thinking that you merely needed to leave the SUV behind and get into his car for him to take you home. Steve helped you get out of the car, steadying you when your feet hit the cement. His arm came up to wrap around your shoulder, guiding you to towards the shade of the overhang outside the front door.

“Stay here,” he ordered you.

You did not get to respond before he turned and walked towards where the other Avengers were gathering further away. He was speaking to them and there were general nods and warm smiles.

Probably thanking them for helping to get you back, you thought sourly.

Movement caught your sight and Tony was coming out of the front door, looking suave as ever. You wondered why he insisted on wearing a suit vest and tie when he had nowhere to be. His gaze fell on you and he rose his eyebrows, smirking, in greeting. You forced a small smile, hating the smug look on his face. He caught Steve as Steve was leaving the group and whispered something to him. Steve met his eyes and hesitated before nodding. A few more words were exchanged before Tony let go of Steve’s arm and Steve continued on his way to you.

His arm came around your shoulder, guiding you again towards where his car was parked.

<><><>

You stood in the middle of yours and Steve’s room, staring around at the pristine furniture and unwrinkled bed. It was spotless, nothing out of place. Nothing changed since you had been gone for the week and a half. You thought to yourself Steve had probably barely been in the room anyway, spending most of his time searching for you.

The room was not homey. There was no personalization besides a couple framed photos of the two of you on the long dresser underneath the TV. You looked to the wall windows overlooking the grounds outside. They matched the inside: trimmed, everything in its place.

You were back to your perfect life in your perfect house. Alone. Except for when Steve was home and enveloped every ounce of your attention and being to him and him alone. You wondered how that would fare as soon as the babies were born. You wondered if Steve’s jealousy and possessiveness would extend to his children when you could not solely focus on him. That was a troublesome thought.

You sighed, your hands coming to rest at your hips, supporting your back. You caught sight of yourself in the mirror, seeing your belly starting to peek out from beneath your nightshirt. Steve would want new clothes brought in for you now that you were getting in your final months and you were going to really balloon out now.

As if his ears were burning, his voice sounded from behind you, “Y/N?”

You turned your head towards the doorway; he was looking at you concerned. You gathered he must have tried to get your attention a couple of times. You were so lost in your thoughts.

“Come here,” Steve beckoned you with two fingers.

He did not have to request it twice. You followed him down the stairs, him walking a step before you, ready to catch you if you stumbled.

Halfway down the stairs, he chastised, “I don’t like the idea of you going up and down stairs too often without someone there.”

“That’s where our bedroom is,” you told him point blank. His mouth set into a thin line as you reached the final stairs. You inhaled deeply, calming any sense of argumentative behavior you had in your bones at his cautiousness. “I use the handrail. Always.”

“I’m worried about your balance.”

“I’m paying attention to that.”

Steve looked like he wanted to say something else but he turned away from you, striding towards the front door and you followed. As soon as you stepped out onto the front porch, you stopped, seeing all the security from around the grounds gathered in a semi-circle.

On a stair above them, Steve leveled all of them with a serious gaze, his profile visible to you.

“New ground rules starting today and running indefinitely. Y/N – and you can just start referring to her as Mrs. Rogers because it’ll be soon enough and I will have you all being respectful to my wife – is not allowed to leave the property without a proper escort and my permission. If you don’t see me face to face saying she’s allowed to leave or hear me over the phone, she doesn’t leave. No one comes onto the property either unless they’re one of the team or you have prior notice from me.”

Your breath was quickening with every word that fell from his lips.

“Does everyone understand that?” Steve asked, his gaze falling on you specifically.

There were a chorus of ‘yes sirs’ but Steve was watching you intently, expectantly.

“Yes,” you said quietly.

Your understanding was the one he ultimately wanted to witness. You had broken his trust like he had specifically asked you not to. And he was true to his word; he was locking the damn keys up.

<><><>

“You kept them alive?” Tony asked incredulously when Steve told him that Yua and Natalie were still alive.

Steve rose a brow, sending a challenging look right back at him. He shrugged lightly, “What collateral would I have over her head otherwise? They’re all I’ve got until the babies are born. I don’t doubt for a second any threat I would take them away from her permanently will keep her underneath my thumb. And warming my bed.”

Tony chewed his gum with purpose, staring at Steve, letting that sink in.

“That was a gamble. You are leaving a window for them to try something foolish again,” Tony finally said with a malcontent tone.

“She’s not allowed to leave the grounds.”

“At all?”

“Not unless I give permission. No more joy rides. And no one is allowed on the grounds,” Steve said. He noticed the cocked eyebrow sent in his direction and he added, “Unless they’re an Avenger. You’re still on the list, you baby.”

“I would be offended if I wasn’t,” Tony returned. He pushed away from the table he was leaning on to stand up straight. He walked around it, tapping his pen on his open palm. A nervous tick. “So, you are here for the chip I am guessing.”

“And for the company.”

Tony smirked over his shoulder. “Right.” He stopped, twirling on his heel to face Steve again who had begun to follow him. He set him with a look and told him sincerely, “I told Pepper to talk to Y/N. Give assurances and whatnot. I think with the right conditioning, Y/N will find comfort in motherhood.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “I don’t doubt that for a second. She’ll desire to cradle them… her motherly instincts kicking in to cradle them at her breast.”

“You’re banking on it,” Tony observed, chuckling. Steve merely shrugged and Tony laughed again. “Yeah, I did too. And it worked out. She’s gonna get protective. You’re right to use them for collateral. You should marry her and get custody put in place once the children are born.”

“I am already planning on marrying her. I already told the staff to start referring to her as Mrs. Rogers. Never too early to start showing her the respect she deserves,” Steve informed him. And then he asked, “But custody? I’m the father.”

Tony pointed his pen at him as they approached the worktable. “Yes, but if there’s no custody order in place then she can legally take them again from you… again. Honestly, Steve, do you not listen to anything I try to teach you?”

“Is that what you did with Pepper?”

“I threatened it,” Tony said and then made a face. “And thennnn… I actually did it. She doesn’t know that still but, I don’t leave anything up to chance. But the threat was enough and still holds to be enough. Even doing that might get Y/N to shape up.”

Steve admitted, “I would rather just have her sign the damn thing and see it for herself.”

“Probably smart with her. She is… what was your word? Squirrelly?”

“Shut up,” Steve retorted.

Tony chortled, “Well, she is. But, be proud of yourself. You have got a perfect one bagged. I’m proud of you.”

<><><>

Pepper had been elated to see you back safe and sound. She had prepared an entire smorgasbord for you, all different kinds of small things to snack on before dinner. You were surprised to learn she had actually done it herself and not the maid. She really must have been excited to have you coming over.

She gushed over your stomach, congratulating you on its size. You had told her you were not sure if the size is something you should be happy about and she waved you off, reminding you you were growing two babies inside there.

The food was delicious, you made sure to make two small sandwiches for yourself made out of different ingredients and an array of different sides to munch on. Morgan was down for a nap, so you had not seen her yet, surprisingly to your disappointment. Since you were really having to face you were going to have two small ones of your own soon, you wanted to be around another baby to learn the ins and outs.

Pepper’s back was to you, refilling your glass of water, still speaking over her shoulder as you reached for another handful of grapes. Being distracted by both the food and her conversation, you didn’t even notice Tony had come up behind you before you felt his grip on your upper arm and the stick into your bicep.

You tried to yank away, shouting in alarm. But Steve was at your other side, blocking you from leaving your chair and you all but collided with his chest. You hissed in pain as Tony scolded you for making that harder than it needed to be, telling you if you had just sat still you would not have had that much pain. You craned your neck the other way to look up at Steve in shock and he was staring down at you without remorse.

“What… what was that?” you practically demanded, your eyes narrowing in anger.

Steve did not answer you, Tony did, sounding pretty happy with himself. “Tracking device. Completely harmless, even with babies. Trust me. Pepper has one too. But I’m giving you the upgraded one. That baby will be able to find you no matter where you are. Top quality technology there. You are one of the firsts to be able to try it out.”

He said it like you should be thanking him and be in awe of the gift he was bestowing.

You noticed Pepper had turned back around, her jaw slack from disbelief at what she had just witnessed. Her eyes met yours and you saw regret and empathy in her eyes. Of course she felt that for you. Tony had just told you that she had one too. And they had used her extension of friendship as a way to distract you to be able to make sure you were just as trapped as she was.

Suddenly you did not feel like eating anymore. You threw the grapes back onto your plate, some bouncing off the plate to roll across the counter. Fury was welling up inside your stomach, threatening to boil over.

“Y/N,” Steve’s voice came deep and rumbling, warning overwhelming his tone.

Tony had discarded the needle down a chute on the counter across from you, whistling. He was pulling glasses out of the cupboards.

“Drinks before dinner?” he asked and then shot you an apologetic smile. “I’ve got some sparkling water for you, Y/N.”

You were having trouble focusing, trying to shove all the anger you felt down. You knew you had brought this on yourself by leaving, by betraying Steve’s trust. But you did not think he would go as far as to let Tony implant a GPS tracker in you. You did not think those were even real, but you should not be surprised with Tony. And poor Pepper…

And now, poor you.

During dinner, you were kind to Pepper, keeping up the face with her. You could tell she was distraught for you and you kept brushing it off with a wide smile. No need for anyone else to feel miserable on your account, especially her. You had gotten yourself into this mess and now you were reaping the consequences. You had pushed Steve past his breaking limit, and you had no one to blame but yourself. You were taking your medicine in each dose and you would continue to do it with as much decorum as you could muster.

On the way out the door, Tony grabbed your arm again, stopping your stride. You flinched at his touch and he noticed, a laugh leaving him.

“Oh, darling, sorry. Not another shot. It’s just me,” he told you, pulling you close. Your eyes flicked to Steve still walking down the hall towards the front door where his coat was hanging. Tony leaned in, grabbing your attention again. “You be nice to him now. He’s got something really special for you planned. You understand?”

There was menace lurking in his gaze and you nodded quickly to escape his stare. It was gone and he nodded. “Good girl. You treat him right. You have another opportunity to do so and I know you learned your lesson.”

He let go of your arm with a jerk and you stumbled back a bit. You nodded again, nervousness coursing through you before you turned and faced Steve again who had just realized you were not following behind him. He beckoned you and you walked to him quickly.

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @roxyfan14-blog @mrsnegan25 @coconutqueen21

[hes-writer]

Exclusive Content

this is a master list of all one shots, blurbs, series parts, and unfinished content that i have posted on patreon (so far)! click the title to read the sneak peek (if i’ve posted one)

———

*+VALENTINE’S DAY

the one where harry has an eventful day

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

* ACHY BACK

the one where y/n’s back hurts and harry draws a bath

“Took too long,” Y/N mumbled as they met in the middle, knuckling tiredly at her eyes. A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken a shower hours prior. Her back had been aching since then, the pain barely bearable for her stature, causing a crease in between his brows.

+ A LETTER TO THE MAN I’VE LOVED

the one where harry receives a letter from y/n

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

+ UNWAVERING (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

the one where harry cheats (another version of ‘a cheat’)

"I-I'm in a bit of a rush, baby.” He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I have a meeting today. Lots of work to be done," Harry responded his tone suggesting that he didn’t want to talk anymore. Y/N nodded to please him.

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her at the back burner of his mind.  

"I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

+ ALL I ASK

the one where feelings aren’t mutual and hearts are broken

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren't. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

* LITTLE PRINCE

the one where harry and y/n are 7-year olds

Harry gasped in horror, crouching to his knees and getting his knee dirty beside the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn't mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?" Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

RENEGADE

the one where y/n teaches harry the ‘renegade’ dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker. 

DROP THE TOWEL (m)

the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

“Hey, babe,” He greeted, walking closer to you in a towel that made him feel liberated. You hummed in a silent greeting, giving him a smile before doing a double-take at his appearance. He dropped the towel on the floor, his length hanging proudly between his legs. 

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry,” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

DREAM WITH ME (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

the one where y/n has trouble falling asleep

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black. 

DIGRESS (1) PROGRESS (2) REGRESS (3) 

the one where love fails

What happens when love fades away? How do you cope with the feelings disappearing slowly like a blot of dark blue paint diluting with every stroke of a ruffled paintbrush? Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

ROUTINE (1) (the first part will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus. following parts will be patron-exclusive content)

the one where harry is a camboy

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of seeing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

NOTES ON CAMP (1) (2) (3) (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

Y/N plastered a smile on her face as she shook Belle’s hand. “Sorry but I need to steal Harry away,” Belle tugged on his tattooed arm, fingers clasping around his wrists as he started walking along with her. “See you, Y/N!” Harry greeted, turning around with his arm draped over Belle’s shoulder.

“See you,” She whispered under her breath, looking at his retreating figure towards the cafeteria. Y/N couldn’t help the disappointment she felt, her shoulders slouching at the realization that it was too good to be true. Of course, he had a girlfriend.  A gentleman with chiselled features and a caring personality complimenting her? No way. Still, she wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t like they’ve known each other for long. Plus, they were co-workers! It would feel wrong to start a relationship anyway.

STRESSED OUT

the one where y/n is stressed and harry wants her to take a break

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Harry physically pulled his chest back. He felt like he had been shot. He knew she didn’t mean it though, but it still hurt to hear, “O-oh. I didn't know y-you felt that way,”

She continued, “You don’t know what it’s like having to spend hours researching so you don’t get anything wrong. Sleepless nights to perfect one paragraph that my professor nitpicks to the bone,” Y/N penned a few words on her notebook, not noticing the pout plastered on Harry’s face.

DESSERT

the one where harry wants something else

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

PET NAME

the one bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name

“Am I, Harry? Seems like you’re putting me at the back burner nowadays,”

He was speechless; had he? Harry didn’t mean to make her feel this way but he wasn’t aware that he was actively blowing her off for Ruby. And why won’t she call him ‘honey’? That was his nickname, wasn’t it? H stood for Harry but it was also the pet name Y/N had given him.

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself--golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

ROOMMATES SERIES (3) (4) (5) (6)

the one where harry and y/n are roommates

updates every 2 weeks!

will not be posted on Tumblr until the series is finished

Y/N gasped at Harry’s proximity, lids snapping open with her hand reaching over to pat along until she found her phone which was blaring with an alarm that she had set. Harry gulped, eyes wide as his mind ran through what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She yelled, tugging the sheets higher on her body. 

“I-I was just waking you up so you can make us dinner,” Harry stuttered out, his excuse sounding lame but he patted himself on the shoulder for making it up on the spot. Well, that was his intention in the first place until he got distracted.

FRIENDS DON’T MINI-SERIES (1) (2) (3)

“Is this okay?” Her doe irises searched his. Harry raised his head lazily to make eye contact, nodding his head with a bit lip. Y/N clenched her inner thighs together at his already blissed-out state, his pupils slowly becoming larger with arousal. “Friends don’t touch each other this way,” She purposefully drew out her statement, giving Harry an out of the situation if he needed to.

“More than okay,”

FIC EXTRAS #1 - TEASE

the one before ‘under the table’

“Fuckin’ dirty,” He spat, the pads of his thumb tracing circles on her hipbones, not feeling a trace of clothing resting on her hips. “Wearin’ a short dress with no panties,”

Y/N hummed, arms slanting behind her to support her upper body so that she could spread her legs further, making room for Harry’s hand. “Didn’t feel like it,”

“Y’just waiting for me to find out, hmm? You knew I couldn’t resist myself when you look so goddamn pretty,”

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #1

the one with fratboy!harry

“Y’alright?” Harry’s husky breath barely made its way to her ears, only then did Y/N feel the hand palming her lower back, another one gripped around her shoulders. Her front flushed against his own, feeling his hard chest on her heaving ones. She peeked one eye open, looking around at her angled stance, then to Harry who wore a concerned look scanning her face. Y/N nodded in response, blinking rapidly, her nipples hardening at a sudden cold breeze beneath the thin fabric of her dress, surely poking him through his shirt. She blushed at the thought and his brief glance over her where they touched, his eyes dilating the tiniest amount.

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #2

the one where harry’s a cheating asshole

Harry wormed his way through his delectable voice and his ever-present words that somehow scorched your shield to the ground. Again. He promised never to do it again and your love-sick heart trusted him. Again. 

But your trust wasn’t something that was particularly valuable to him. To Harry, it would always be there, lingering like the stars in the night sky; always present, always gleaming. Harry was very sorry for what he was doing to you. It was ironic, really; he hoped and prayed every day that you wouldn’t find out but his carelessness left everything out in the open.  

TEXT MESSAGES #1

the one where y/n has silly thoughts

TEXT MESSAGES #2

the one where harry and y/n share the same class 

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by Heroes and Vilains. Logan Anker: Allies

No man is an island. We all need others to rely on.

Previous chapters in masterpost

“You are sure I don’t have to compensate you for your trouble? Yesterday was only a few hours but…”

“Virgil is an absolute angel Logan. He is no trouble at all. You get to work,” Celine assured him.

Logan nodded and knelt down to look at Virgil.

“I have to go to work Virgil. But I will be back in the evening okay?” he asked calmly.

Virgil nodded, squeezing his Stitch tightly to his chest.

“If you need me, just ask for me okay? Promise?” Logan asked.

“Pwomise,” Virgil said as he stepped forward, putting his arms around Logan’s neck in a hug.

“Bye papa,” he said before letting go.

Logan smiled a little and ruffled Virgil’s hair. “Be a good boy okay?”

Virgil nodded again. Logan got up and left, forcing himself not to look back. He felt like he had more trouble with being apart from Virgil then the other way around. Which he supposed was a good sign. It meant Virgil was enjoying his time with the neighbors and that they were as nice as they seemed.

Thomas, as the dean of the college Logan would be teaching at, was of course the one to show him around campus. It was a pleasant work environment as far as Logan could tell.

Big open spaces, the lecture halls were well lit and had good airflow.

Not to mention state of the art educational material and…

“Oh, Thomas! There you are! I was looking for you all over, but then Talyn told me you were showing around a new professor and…” Logan looked up at the cheerful voice and his eyes found a freckled face holding two wide, innocently blue eyes. When their eyes locked the man cut of his rant.

“Oh… Hi,” the man smiled a little sheepishly.

Logan collected himself and approached the man to greet him. “Greetings. I am Logan Anker. I will be starting here next fall,” he explained.

“Patton Bonair! Very nice to meet you,” the man, Dr. Bonair shook his hand excitedly and while normally he would find that overwhelming or even annoying, there was such a pure sincere joy in his eyes that he could only classify the behavior as endearing.

“I teach moral philosophy. Just started last year not too long before our new dean here. We’re all so proud of Thomas for getting that position! He is young, but he is very fit for the job just you wait and see!”

Logan could appreciate Paton sticking up for Thomas. “Yes. Thomas and I met in high school and I had the pleasure of being his roommate in college. He is a very capable man. I trust him to make well informed decision in the faculty and the student body’s best interest,” Logan assured Patton in turn.

“Oh that’s so exciting!!!” Patton giggled. It was a rather pleasant sound.

“I bet you have tons of fun stories,” the other man winked.

Ah. “Nice try. But I will not be divulging such information,” Logan stated firmly.

“Aw, Logan! I knew you secretly cared.”

“I merely assumed that this would make for a mutual beneficial arrangement. I don’t reveal any personal information about you without your consent and you regard my private life with the same amount of respect,” Logan stressed. Not comfortable in showing any kind of fondness for his ally and friend. Not in front of a stranger. Not even if it was a very kind and cute stranger.

One who was watching the exchanged with a very sweet smile and now clapped his hands in excitement as the lights of an idea sparkled in his eyes.

“Why don’t you come over next Friday for movie night? You can get to know some more people and…”

“Apologies but I have prior commitments,” Logan stated before Patton got too worked up over the evening.

“Oh…” Patton deflated at that. “Well I’m sorry I didn’t…”

“Don’t take it personal Pat. Logan isn’t trying to get out of spending time with you. If he was he would just say he didn’t want to come. Trust me,” Thomas explained.

Logan nodded. “Indeed. Speaking of which I should get settled in. I wanted to call Virgil over my break,” he stated as he swiftly left the room.

Virgil was, from the sound of it, doing rather well in his absence. Logan assured him that he would be home soon before hanging up and getting ready to join Thomas in the basement.

Time to get settled into his role as a manufacturer of support items for heroes and a tutor for young heroes in training.

He donned his disguise and his new Shade glasses that cast a shadow over his face so that even someone who stood nose to nose with him wouldn’t be able to discern any facial features or the voice modifier he was wearing to make his voice more monotone and robotic.

He arrived in a conference room where Manifestor and one other person were waiting for him.

“Ah! Brain Storm! Let me introduce you to Sweets. He is an empath and will be assisting you in teaching any young heroes in training. Sweets you’ve probably heard of Brain Storm.”

Logan prepared for judgement and distrust… But that was not what he got.

“It is very nice to meet you,” Sweets stated warmly as he offered his hand. He seemed sincere.

Logan simply nodded. Distance was key. Sweets was clearly disappointed to find him unwilling to exchange more than the most basic of pleasantries. With his colleagues it was hard to escape. But down here, Thomas could explain his aversion to closeness of any kind.

He had a handle on his gift around Virgil. Having him as an emotional anchor actually helped prevent any flare ups even when he lost hold of his emotions.

Maybe he should discuss possible ways to extend this effect to his work environment in some way with Picani next week.

“Oh like a talisman? That sounds like an excellent idea Logan. I must say I am proud of you for making so much progress on your own!” Picani told him warmly.

“It would be nice if you could allow yourself to actually get along with your colleagues. Both as Logan and as Brainstorm,” he finished.

Logan wasn’t sure if he needed that. He did care about being able to actually express some excitement while giving lectures next semester. But he didn’t think any of his colleagues would really benefit from a friendship with him. He was already at his limit of social pleasantries when interacting with his helpful neighbors and he liked them well enough. Thomas wasn’t as exhausting since he knew all his edges and accepted them for what they were. People like Patton were better off never having to deal with those.

When he went to pick up Virgil that evening David opened the door with a smile.

“They are in the garden,” he told him as he led him to the backdoor.

He opened the door and both men looked around, trying to spot the boys.

When they found them though they saw Virgil curled up in a ball shaking with sobs as Janus tried to comfort his friend.

“Virgil!!!?” Logan called out as he rushed over. Virgil stiffened and tightened his hold of his legs.

Logan let himself fall to his knees. “What happened? Are you hurt?” he whispered in an attempt to soothe him with a softer tone of voice. Virgil didn’t respond.

Logan looked up to the other boy. “Janus? What happened here?” he asked desperately wanting to know what had happened to his son.

Janus bit his lip nervously and shook his head. “I don’t know…”

Well obviously that was a lie. “Janus… you are not in trouble. But you will be if you lie about this. Now what happened to Virgil?” he tried to stay calm but he was on his last nerve. The only reason why things weren’t exploding left and right was because he had his hands on his shaking son who he didn’t want to frighten any more.

Janus looked down. “Stitch,” he muttered.

Logan let out a sigh of relief and turned back to Virgil.

“Virgil… are you upset because your Stich got torn or dirty?” Logan guessed.

Virgil hiccupped and a faint move of his head seemed like a nod.

“Can I see him? Maybe I can repair the damage?” he suggested gently.

Virgil looked up tears and snot running down his face. On any other kid it would have undoubtedly repulsed Logan. But this was Virgil and so he only cared that his son was upset.

“Not mad?” he wondered.

Logan allowed a gentle smile. “Of course not. Accidents happen. I am just glad you aren’t hurt. Now let me see…”

Virgil let go of his legs and retrieved the plush from it’s hiding place against his stomach. A good chunk of the ear had come off. From the looks of it it would be easier to cut off the top bit and close the lower one up.

And Logan had an idea of how to soften the blow of the loss of stitch’s ear.

“I think I can do something about this. Let’s go home,” he told Virgil.

His son nodded and waved goodbye to his friend.

Once home Logan got to work. He cut and sewed and he dug in his desk for a surprise for Virgil.

He came back downstairs and handed Virgil the repaired doll. Virgil inspected the shorter ear for a minute and then nodded in approval. “Little, broken, good,” he murmured. Paraphrasing his favorite quote of his favorite movie.

“Indeed and look.” Logan showed the little pouch he’d made from the remains of the ear.

And then he opened the box he’d retrieved from his desk. Virgil’s eyes widened when he noticed it contained all the rocks and leaves and feathers he’d given Logan over the past month. All things that Virgil had considered valuable and so they meant the world to Logan.

“How about we pick out some things to bring with me tomorrow? To keep me safe?”

He was in the unique position where this wasn’t a lie to give the child some sense of control over the separation with their parental figure. This ‘talisman’ would help him keep himself grounded, to remind himself why he couldn’t make mistakes.

Virgil smiled and nodded and carefully selected the best treasures and put them on Logan’s palm, one after the other so he could put them in. Logan took as much care with his task as Virgil did.

“There. Now, how about dinner?”

“Okay Virgil, dad has to go now. You be good to Janus’ papa okay? I’ll see you tonight,” Logan promised as he finished off his daily check in call with his son.

“Bye, bye daddy! Luv you!” Logan felt his heart fill with warmth at that. “Love you too Virgil,” he said softly. Virgil had only recently started saying ‘I love you’, and he seemed to understand the weight of the words, if the look in his eyes every time he used them was anything to go by. Logan was not usually comfortable with voicing his feelings, not even to Virgil. But over the phone he felt less vulnerable and had an easier time returning the sentiment.

“Hi Logan. How are you settling in?”

Logan looked up and was rather happy to see Patton walk in.

He would be foolish not to acknowledge the butterflies in his stomach every time Patton entered a room. But he had no time for relationships, he was still getting used to being a father. Not to mention, he did not trust himself around others enough to even consider letting a stranger in that much. No Virgil had to be his priority and he was already going through enough changes as it was. Besides, who wanted to date a man with a two year old toddler?

“Patton. I am doing quite well. I feel like I am ready for the start of the year.” He gestured to his desk, which he had made his own. An old space themed mug to hold his pens, a clear box for notecards in case he needed to write himself reminders and of course a picture of Virgil taking a nap with his Stitch and his blanket.

“Oh! Who is that precious little angel!” Patton squealed pointing at the picture.

Logan couldn’t help a smile. “Virgil. My… My son,” he said. It was the first time he called Virgil that out loud and it filled him with a warm pride.

“Oh… That is Virgil… How old is he?” Patton wondered beaming at him in a way only Patton could make look sincere.

“Two. Though he’s only been my son for the past two months. He’s rather well behaved for his age.” Logan caught himself about to start boasting about his boy and smiled apologetically at Patton.

“You sound very happy to have him,” Patton pointed out.

“I am…. He is my entire world,” Logan confessed.

Logan kept going to see Picani once a week for about two years. He didn’t stop going after that. But he didn’t need the weekly sessions anymore and he preferred to spend that time with Virgil.

Teaching was every bit as fulfilling as he’d hoped it would be and his talisman worked without fail.

So far he had yet to be involved with any heroes in training. Keeping to developing exercises for civilian gifted, reviewing data and creating tech for sanctioned active heroes.

Virgil and Janus had made it through kindergarten together and had just begun elementary school.

And for whatever reason Virgil had decided  to start playing matchmaker. So Logan sat him down to explain homosexuality to him, in terms Virgil would understand.

“It isn’t funny Thomas,” Logan grumbled over lunch while his friend was figuratively dying of laughter.

“What isn’t funny?” Patton wondered as he joined them.

“Virgil tried to set Logan up with some random woman from the park and he decided now was a good time to…” Thomas stopped himself and looked at Logan questioningly.

“It is fine Thomas. I see no reason to keep this from Patton.” He turned to their kindhearted friend. If anyone was going to be accepting it’d be him right.

“I came out as gay to my son this weekend.” He then turned back to Thomas.

“And there is no point in hiding this from him. If we want the LGBTQ+ community to get normalized we have to start with treating it as normal in front of the children, wouldn’t you agree?”

Thomas thought of that for a moment and nodded. “Yes, I suppose you are right. Should I come out next time I see him then?��� Thomas wondered.

“You can if you want to.”

Logan would come to regret that later. Because Virgil’s conclusion to that revelation was that he should get uncle Thomas to be his dad’s boyfriend.

Time just kept spinning out of control and before Logan knew it, Virgil was in middle school.

It wasn’t long before Virgil made a new friend there. He and Janus were spending a lot of time with a boy named Remus, as Logan came to understand. They never invited him over as far as he was aware, but he was with them often during recess.

Until one day at the start of seventh grade Virgil came home rather upset. Remus was pulled out of school due to a rather persistent bullying problem.

“Why didn’t you tell me about that Virgil? Me and Mr. and Mrs. Bullard we could have talked to the teachers and…”

“I thought you’d say I couldn’t be friends with him anymore…” Virgil admitted.

Logan was shocked by that reveal. “Why would I say that?” he asked dumbfounded. When had he ever given Virgil the idea he would prefer he abandon kids who needed a friend the most?

“You say I shouldn’t look for trouble and…”

Oh… Oh. Logan had very soon realized that his son had inherited his birthparent’s selfless and protective nature and he had feared that this would end up getting him in trouble.

So he’d tried to caution him against reckless behavior. This, however, seemed to have left a very wrong impression with his son. That was something he should talk about with Picani.

“Oh, Virgil. I didn’t mean I wanted you to turn away from people who need help. I just meant… Sometimes being brave, being a hero means knowing when you need to ask for help. Promise me that next time, you’ll let people help you okay?”

Virgil nodded and gave him a hug.

And then, not a week later…

“And then this boy pushed the mean kid away and he turned out to be Remus’ twin Roman!”

After that Roman was talked about a lot. Logan had a suspicion that his son had a small crush on the boy and he didn’t know how to feel.

“That is so adorable!” Patton squealed when Logan explained the situation. Logan didn’t know how it had happened exactly. But he often found himself turning to Patton when he sought advice on how to handle certain problems in raising Virgil.

“I’m not ready for him to have crushes though Patton. It is impossible. It feels like only yesterday he struggled to sleep without his blanket and now…” Now his blanket and worn out stitch plushy had gotten a more decorative spot in his son’s room.

How much longer before Logan became just as obsolete?

He gently squeezed the talisman to ground himself and keep his thoughts from spiraling.

“It’s a part of life Logie.” Patton and only Patton got away with calling him that. He didn’t have the heart to ask him to stop.

“But rest assured you will always be important to Virgil. You’re his dad. How can you not be?”

Logan relaxed at that. Right. At the end of the day, Virgil was his son, nothing could change that.

Not even the unforgiving sands of time that had Virgil come down the first day of summer before his freshman year of high school with dyed hair and a new hoodie, announcing himself as bisexual.

Logan felt happy that Virgil felt comfortable telling him this. But also a squeeze in his heart as he realized that once more his boy was growing up.

Virgil had started experimenting with make up a few weeks ago and it was clear he was setting up a shield against the world. Logan just feared that he’d end up being kept out by that shield as well.

4)Pupil

Masterlist

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali

[princessjungeun]

From Nothing To Something: Joy x Reader

Request: Hi! I checked your master list and saw that there’s only one RV scenario there. I’m here to change that. 😁 May I request an enemies to lovers kind of scenario with Joy? 😳

The dance is linked below if you want a visual

Park Sooyoung. You’ve known Sooyoung for as long as you could remember. She’s been in every single class with you since Pre Kindergarten. One would think after knowing someone for this long you’d be best friends.

No. It was the complete opposite.

You and Sooyoung absolutely couldn’t stand to be in a room together. It’s been that way since you first met her. Despite this, as far as you can remember there’s not a specific reason you dislike her. You always remember hating her, never bothering to look into why.

All of this leads up to know. 12th grade dance class. Going to a performing arts school was definitely one of the best experiences you were provided with. Dance was your entire life. So much so you were already on track to attend an arts university overseas in America in the fall.

Every year a project was given to year 12 students. A year 12 dancer was paired with another year 12 student who didnt study dance. You were to teach them a dance and perform it for them in front of the whole school. A panel of judges from entertainment companies as well as universities were the ones who gave grades. Of course they showed a small amount of mercy. As you all were only teenagers and one of you al had no prior dance experience. However, this didn’t diminish the fact that many students still failed this project.

Your teacher rambled of names one by one giving you (the dancers) your partners (the non dancers).

“Jisu and Eunji”

“Sooyoung and Chaeyoung”

“Heejin and Jiwoo”

“Soojin and Jihyo”

“Siyeon and Bora”

“Sooyoung and Y/N”

“Chaeyeon and Kahei”

The second you heard her name you walked to the Sooyoung you wanted to be paired with, Ha Sooyoung.

Your teacher noticed you two standing together and said “Ha Sooyoung is with Son Chaeyoung. Y/N you are paired with Park Sooyoung. Please find your partner promptly.” Your fellow dance friend waved as she went to find her partner. You looked around before seeing Sooyoung staring directly at you.

She stood in front of you then said “well are you going to talk?” You felt fire boil up inside you, but instead of lashing out like you wanted to, you took a deep breath. “Meet me here tomorrow at 3 pm. If you’re even a minute late I’m leaving and requesting a partner switch got it?” Sooyoung rolled her eyes and walked past you, bumping your shoulder in the process.

That night you decided the two of you would dance a slow song. Knowing that Sooyoung has probably never danced before you wanted to do something she’d find easy.

•

•

•

When you arrived in the dance studio the next day Sooyoung was there waiting for you. She wore leggings and a t shirt with a pair of sneakers. You for once didn’t look at her and internally gag, she looked...nice?

“Ok I decided that we’re dancing to a slow song. It’s a slow and emotional choreography. We’re dancing to Say Something.” You put your bag down and walked to the center of the floor.

“Have you ever danced before?” You asked her expecting a no, but there was no harm in asking. She responded “yeah I have, for a few years as a child.” You nodded then said “ok I can work with that, nice.” She responded in an annoyed tone “can we start please. I’m meeting someone after this.” You rolled your eyes and started guiding her through her choreography.

By the end of the practice she had learned the first quarter of her routine. “Ok Joy. Uh...you did well today, be here tomorrow. Same time.” Her eyes narrowed and she immediately said “don’t call me that.” You asked “what?” She responded “Joy. Only my friends call me that. You call me Sooyoung.” She grabbed her bag and walked out before letting you say anything else.

•

•

•

The next few weeks you spent hours with Joy Sooyoung teaching her choreography. She picked everything up fairly quickly but she definitely needed help making thing cleaner.

“When you get here I need you to add more emotion. The lyrics are sad but you’re just going through the motions.” You instructed her hoping she wouldn’t respond negatively. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair before doing the move again with the same expression. You sighed “We’ll work on it...”

A knock on the door interrupted the two of you. Your dance teacher told you “Hello girls. Please show me what you all have so far.” You nodded and started the music.

As you danced you could tell Sooyoung was just going through the motions. She didn’t trust you, you tried to not get frustrated as you danced but you couldn’t. You knew Sooyoung didn’t want to do this just as much as you if not more.

Your teacher tells you “Ok well the choreography is beautiful and the sing fits well. However, I feel like you two are lacking chemistry. Watching you was like watching two different people. With this you need to be one with each other. Trust each other and feel each other’s emotions through your movements. Channel your inner dancer Sooyoung, I know you can do it. And Y/N, be patient with her. Try to feel for her more, you’re dancing for yourself when you need to dance for the two of you. I suggest you two call it a day.”

When your teacher tells her students to call it a day, that’s one of the worse things you can hear. It’s the equivalent of her telling you, “you suck go home I don’t want to see you in my school anymore this evening”. You sighed and let her walk out of the room before you faced Sooyoung.

The overwhelming feeling of anger and disappointment welled up inside of you. As much as you wanted to yell at Sooyoung, you knew it wasn’t all her fault. You played a role in this situation as well. “Tomorrow. Same time” was all you said before grabbing your things and leaving.

•

•

•

The next day you showed up and saw Sooyoung waiting for you. You told her “Come on I’m taking you somewhere.” She responded “where are we going? What are you planning? Are you going to take me to some remote place and try to kill me? Answer me! Ugh you’re so annoying no wonder I hate you.” You just grabbed her arm and dragged her to your car.

You drove for what was probably two hours before arriving at your favorite place in Seoul. Sooyoung looked out the window and unimpressingly asked “You brought me...to a mountain?” You responded “just shut up and follow me.”

You led her along a trail, hiking up the mountain. “I hate this. Why are you taking me here. This is so stupid. A mountain of all places?” You couldn’t contain yourself any longer “SOOYOUNG. SHUT THE HELL UP. ALL YOU EVER DO IS COMPLAIN. WILL YOU JUST HUSH FOR ONE MINUTE AND PAY ATTENTION TO WHATS GOING ON AROUND YOU?” She looked at you stunned then stayed quiet as she followed you “ok...sorry.”

When you got to the highest point of the mountain you didn’t hear footsteps following behind you. Turning around you saw Sooyoung clinging to a railing. You asked “what’s wrong?” Sooyoung’s eyes were closed tightly and she shakily said “I’m like really really afraid of heights.”

You sighed and walked back to her carefully removing her hands from the railing. “What are you doing? Why am I moving? What’s happening?” She started to panic. You responded calmly “it’s fine just relax.” She was clinging to you for what felt like dear life. Her body was shaking and her knees wobbling beneath her. You found it kind of cute honestly. You sighed and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, her hand immediately finding yours. While your free arm snakes around her waist.

You sat down on the ground, guiding her to sit in front of you, facing the end of the railing. Finally you told her why you were here “We’re here so we can gain trust and chemistry.” Sooyoung’s eyes were still shut, you could tell even from looking at her back.

You asked her “Ok first off theres one thing we should talk about first. Why do you hate me?” She scooted around so she was now facing you but her eyes were still closed. “Because you’re better at everything. You’re a better dancer, a better singer, you’re prettier...waaayyy prettier than me, your body is to die for, you’re so nice to everyone, your hair is perfect. I-I guess I hate you because you’re perfect...” Her voice trailed off in the end.

“Sooyoung...I’m far from that, truly.” You stated. She asked “why do you hate me?” You responded “Because I thought I was supposed to.”

You both say quiet for a minute until she said “ok well let’s talk about the dance then...why’d you choose it?” You looked down at your hands and said “broken relationships, family things. It has a meaning to me.” Sooyoung responded “I can tell. I’m sorry I haven’t been cooperating with you...” You replied “I’m sorry you don’t trust me yet.”

She asked you “so what now?” You noticed her eyes were still closed, her fists tightly clenched around her sweatshirt sleeves. “Come on theres one more thing I want you to see.” You helped her stand up and the second you took one step her body caved into yours. “I’m scared Y/N...” She whined softly.

“Shhh it’s ok just trust me.” You walked slowly to the very edge where the railing was still protecting you both. You stood behind her and wrapped both arms around her waist. “Ok now breathe in” You instructed her, “and breathe out.” She followed your instructions, you felt her shaking.

“Sooyoung-ah it’s ok I’m right here I won’t let anything happen to you. Breathe in and out until your calm.” She once again listened to you, her hands finding yours.

You softly said “Ok good now I want you to slowly open your eyes but keep breathing.” She did as you said and saw the beautiful mountains in front of her. You told her “See, look what happens when you just trust me.”

•

•

•

Ever since you and Sooyoung had that little bonding experience, dancing with her improved. She slowly started showing more emotion and putting more effort into her performance. Your teacher often watched the two of you and praised you both for your improvement.

Dancing with Sooyoung went from dancing with a stranger, to dancing with another part of yourself. You two became one as you danced, feeling each other and trusting each other. It was something you’ve never felt before. And you loved it.

You told her “Ok let’s do a full run through then we can call it a day.” She nodded and you started the song. As the music played you let your body move freely, not thinking about anything. You could tell Sooyoung was doing the same. The parts where you both came together then apart were like you were separating part of yourself.

When you two finished you immediately ran into her arms excitedly “that was so good! Sooyoung-ah we are going to do so well!” She jumped excitedly with you.

You looked into her eyes, you never truly noticed how beautiful she is. You noticed her eyes scanning your face as well, ending on your lips. Your eyes flickered down to hers and without hesitation she pulled you in and kissed you. Her lips were the softest you’ve ever felt.

She pulled away breathless and said “I’m Joy to you.” Caressing your face and kissing you again before grabbing her things and leaving. You stood in the middle of the room stunned at the interaction.

•

•

•

As weeks went on you and Sooyoung Joy got closer and closer. Immediately you realized how much attention she actually needed, you found it cute. She was always clinging to you, craving your love and affection whenever you were around.

On the day of your performance you hadn’t seen her all day. You and the rest of the dancers wouldn’t see your partners until you were onstage. This is why you and Joy had been practicing so hard the past two weeks.

“So let me get this straight. The girl that you once absolutely hated. You couldn’t stand her whatsoever. Is now your girlfriend?” Your best friend Chaeyeon asked you. You responded “we aren’t girlfriends Chae.” She roles her eyes and said “well lovers whatever you two want to be called.” You told her “I don’t know we just talked about it one day and then she kissed me...and here we are.” Chaeyeon responded “wish I could relate.”

You were instructed by your dance teacher to get in order by performance. Your friends helped each other put the finishing touches on your costumes. You wore a black, long sleeved leotard with a high neck. As far as you know Joy was wearing the same thing.

You waited your turn, watching your friends and their partners dance. The judges have yet to say anything genuinely different. It’s all the same comment “good work” or “with more practice you would have gotten higher”.

The lights dimmed and your friend behind you patted your behind in support. Nervously you ran out and found your spot, hearing Joy do the same.

When the lights came on you heard the music come on. Immediately all of your fear washed away and you let the music take control. The audience was completely silent as you two danced.

Something was different about this Joy. She wasn’t smiling as she danced like she did in almost every practice. She didn’t laugh once when you lifted her into the air. She didn’t jokingly whisper provocative things into your ears when she was close enough to. This Joy was different. She danced with passion and emotion. You could tell she wanted this as much as you did.

The end of the song came, your back against hers and her hand reached for yours. As choreographed, you tore it away and got up, walking away slowly leaving her alone. Much like a very close relationship you once had.

The lights turned off and the music stopped, you both ran into each other’s arms. The lights came back on and the judges sat in silence staring at you. One of them, from a very famous dance studio in Seoul said “I’m speechless. I honestly have nothing to say.” The others nodded in agreement before they told you both to exit the stage.

When you got into the wings you turned back to Joy, immediately you hugged her. She pulled away and wiped away tears you didn’t realize fell. You smiled and hugged her again “thank you so much. You did so well.” She rubbed your back “it was all you, I just followed along.”

Your teacher escorted the two of you back to a dressing room with your other classmates who already performed. All of them showered the two of you with complements, your best friends praising you especially.

Joy sat down and opened her arms for you to sit in them. You both watched the last two performances before the whole class was escorted onstage.

The final grades would be given in class but the highest graded performance was announced publicly. Everyone nervously waited not knowing who would be awarded the highest grade. You weren’t 100% confident because there were at least two pairs you thought did better than you.

The judge who sat in the middle spoke “This performance received a high grade of 100%. This performance left us judges as well as the audience speechless. The technique was incredible, not only from the trained dancer, but from the inexperienced partner as well. They both had the chemistry and you could tell that they trusted each other. They told a story with their choreography, it was truly beautiful. This grade is given to Y/N and Park Sooyoung.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, you turned to Joy and picked her up, spinning her around. You couldn’t help but start to cry as your whole class huddled around you hugging you. You thanked the judges profusely as well as your teacher.

•

•

•

“Joy I wanna talk to you about something.” You walked into her room as she towel dried her hair. “Do you know how much hair spray and gel Jihyo put in my hair? It took three washes to get it out!” You looked at her seriously and she said “sorry yeah what’s wrong?”

You sat in your bed and patted the seat next to you. She sat down and you continued “For the longest time I absolutely despised you. I didn’t have a reason you I just did. And then one day we were forced to do this crazy project. I took you to a mountain and you kissed me there. Then we became...whatever we are now. But I don’t want to do this with you anymore.”

Her face dropped and you could see the hurt in her eyes. You told her “I don’t want you to be doing this with me...if I can’t call you my girlfriend.” Immediately she tackled you “yahhh don’t do that you scared me!” You pulled her down and kissed her passionately. Softly you mumbled against her lips “I love you Joy” She pulled away out of breath and kissed your cheek, “I love you too Y/N”

[ddaeng-181338]

Listen, before I go

The title is Heavily inspired by Billie Eilish’s song; Listen, Before I go , I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to want to write a short story based on this song. It’s raining out today so maybe that’s why lol

Genre: heavy angst

Word count: 1.5k (a short one heh)

Trigger warning: This story talks about hospitals, cancer and death so please if you are sensitive to any of these topics I’m begging you don’t read it. I don’t want to trigger anyone .,.

The tears had dried a few hours ago. The made your face feel stiff and your cheeks puffy. The consistent beeping of the heart monitor being the only thing that was keeping you focused.

2 weeks. That’s all you had left. That’s how much time you had been given to try and make the most of it.

“How am I supposed to tell him.” You pulled at the threads of your blanket. Trying desperately to yank them free to calm your nerves. “How are you even supposed to tell someone this kind of thing?”

Jimin would be here soon, just like he had been every day prior since you got here.

Your health took a sharp decline about 6 months prior, despite being diagnosed with stage 3 ovarian cancer a year and a half before then. It had taken you a while to even come clean to Jimin. He had been on tour when you found out and didn’t want to distract him.

You still remembered the way his face had contorted. The pain evident in his eyes when you explained just how serious the problem was. He was distant for a while, and you had even told him you understood if he wanted to leave you.

And after a few weeks you figured he had just left you without a word. Made it quick and painless for the both of you. Or well...him at least. You had been distraught during those few weeks. Trying to come to terms with the fact that you were sick, and that there was a very good chance you only had a few years left. On top of that you were trying to cope with a broken heart.

But at the end of those few weeks, he was standing outside your door. Crying, with flowers and your favorite food in hand. “I’m so sorry.” Was the first thing he had said. And it both healed and broke you.

Over the next months Jimin Had remained by your side as best he could. His work required him to be in so many places and to be moving all the time. So he didn’t have as much time as he wanted to be with you.

Once you started losing hair due to chemo, he asked for paid leave. To which his company complied, wishing him and you the best of luck. It gave him a peace of mind, but for you it only solidified that you were in fact not just sick.

But that you were dying.

It took a full year for your body to finally give in. You became weak and frail, and struggled to move on your own. Despite all treatments your cancer was still there. And to make matters worse - it was spreading.

And there wasn’t much left to be done.

You know how much of a toll it took on Jimin. The brace face he put on when he was with you was easy to see through once you were alone. If it wasn’t for the boys being there to help him, you’d be terrified of leaving him alone.

That’s what face you a peace of mind. That even once you had lost your battle, the boys would be there to help him. To keep his head up. And to keep him moving. Once you were gone, he would still be in good hands.

You were ripped from your melancholic thoughts as your room door opened. “Good afternoon my love.” Jimin’s voice was like music to your ears. His voice silenced the thoughts swimming through your head.

“Good afternoon to you too my love.” Your voice was slightly hoarse and you cringed. You ran you hand through your hair to try and play it off. It had been about 8 months since they told you chemo wasn’t doing anything. So your hair had about 8 months of growing time since then.

You had a very grown out bob as this point, one that you usually just tied back or didn’t pay any mind to at all. You were glad it was at least a little longer than Jimin’s at this point.

“Are you Okay?” You looked over at him slowly, watching him take his usual seat next to your bed. “As okay as I can be in this place.” You were terrified to tell him. How the hell were you even supposed to tell him?

“Did the doctors tell you something y/n? They looked sad when I passed…” well you were going to have to tell him. You didn’t want too. But fuck it would be selfish if you didn’t.

“Lay with me please.”

You could see him tense, fear filling his eyes and he slipped off is coat and shoes and climbed into the hospital bed with you. You laid back, turning on your side so you faced him. “Hi.” Was all you got out, teaching forward to cup his cheek and kissed him softly.

When will we have our last kiss?

You felt tears prick your eyes and you pulled away from him softly. Tears threatening to spill as you looked at him. “Tell me.” He could read you like a book, he knew when you were hiding something.

“They gave me some bad news this morning Jiminie…” your voice cracked. You weren’t afraid of dying, but you were afraid of what dying would do to him. His grip on your hand tightened.

“What?” You took a shaky breath, terrified for the reaction you knew was coming. Your eyes closed before opening once more, the tears gone as you looked at him.

“The told me I only have...only have about 2 weeks left to live. The cancer is spreading rapidly and as this point there is nothing they...nothing they can do.”

You watched all the emotions flood his eyes, tears welling up and slipping down his cheeks as he looked at you. “There has to be something y/n… you can’t… I can’t..” He broke down in sobs, each one feeling like a stab wound to your heart.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, pulling him close so that his head rested on your chest. “Listen to that Jiminie, it’s my heart beating. I’m here. I’m not leaving you yet.” His only cried harder.

“You can’t leave.” You couldn’t even speak, your own tears threatening to spill. “We are supposed to be together forever. Get married, Start a family, get a cat…” he only cried harder. He was inconsolable at this point and all you could do is hug him. Tears falling down your cheeks and landing in his hair.

“You can’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” He was rambling at this point. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he finally looked up at you. Bloodshot eyes making you breakdown fully.

“It’s not far my love, I know it’s not fair at all. And I’m so sorry, I want to stay...I want to stay so bad. I want to have a family with you, grow old with you. But I can’t. I’m so...I’m so…” you couldn’t get the words out anymore.

Salty tears slid down your cheeks and lips as you looked at him. A broken man laid next to you, and there was nothing you could do to fix it.

“I want so badly to stay with you my love. I want to stay by your side, and see what you accomplish. But I can’t. At least not physically.”

A fresh wave of tears left him as you pulled him close once more. His ear resting above your heart, the steady beating calming him. “I’ll always be with you my love. Even if you can’t see me.”

Your breathing was shaky but you continued. “I’m going to be with you always, watching you from above. I’ll be there with you when you find someone new. When you start a family, when you grow old. And I’ll be waiting for you once it’s your time okay? I’ll never...I’ll never leave you.”

He sobbing into your chest now, his words muffled as he spoke. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, resting your cheek on top of his head as he cried. “I’m so sorry Jimin.”

True to the doctor’s words, you passed 3 weeks later. You were a fighter till the end, outlasting the time the doctors had given you by a whole week.

You died peacefully in your sleep, with him by your side. He had refused to go home once he knew how little time you had left. And those three weeks, despite everything, were some of the best you had experienced.

The hospital had let you go out daily, visiting places you had always wanted to see. Not all of them of course, but enough to make good memories for the both of you.

And once you had passed, he did cry of course. But he felt oddly at ease. The words you had spoken to him a few weeks prior sticking with him through the whole process of your funeral and burial.

You were with him, even if it wasn’t physical. You were with him.

[etlunainmorte]

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

“Fire and ice. Night and day. Moon and sun. Twins. They are coming, mama.”

Was dear Cassandra’s prophecy.

Nine months later, Vergil and Dante came to our life. Finally, the gods have answered our prayers. And so, our happy family just became bigger.

*

The moment she laid eyes on him, Andromeda took a great liking to Dante. She always played with him, made him laugh, and when he got a bit older, she started showing him how she trained with the Rebellion. She told him a lot of stories of her adventures with the mighty sword. She influenced him too much that he was starting to grow just like her - courageous and strong, both in will and in body.

And as he grew up with Andromeda, Dante became attached with the Rebellion, as well, and the aspect of slaying Demons with it. More so than her that he begged his father for him to have it. And he relented, saying that he could have it at the right time. A few years later, the two started training together. There never was a pair so perfectly matched and balanced than those two.

Vergil, on the other hand, grew up very differently from Dante. While he was equally strong in both will and in body just like his younger brother, he was wiser than him. Much more than most children of his age.

And during those years of growth, he was watched over by none other than the shy and gentle Galatea.

As soon as he was born, the Bearer of The Past stayed with him. She told him lots of stories, read to him William Blake’s poetry ( he took a great liking to the poet’s Book of Urizen ), and sang to him sweet, sweet lullabies. And above all, she showed him unconditional kindness and gentleness. Just like what I did for her when she was a bit younger. The love I have for her extended to him.

Galatea loved Vergil. So much that she pledged her own life to protect him.

Andromeda for Dante and Galatea for Vergil,…

*

However, during those years of the twins’ growth, Cassandra has become a bit of a recluse. She rarely spoke, rarely ate, and she doesn’t play with her younger siblings anymore. She often isolated herself from us, always watching us from afar.

I tried to speak with her, to convince her to open up, and she would only sigh and glance at me with those dark, sorrowful eyes.

As years went by, she became more and more distant, she, herself, becoming a different person, altogether.

She would watch the weather outside, and would stare for hours when it rained or stormed. Her sisters, including the twins, convinced her to be with them, to no avail.

Then, one day, when my husband spoke with her, she simply broke down and cried. She was,… pleading with him, for an unknown reason.

For one last time, she begged him,…

… and on that night, he left us, just like that,…

And Cassandra? She locked herself in her room and cried day and night. I managed to convince her to let me in, to tell me everything she knew.

And that’s when I finally found out,…

… the inevitable,…

*

Vergil, Dante, if you are reading this right now, the Demons might have already killed me. But, do understand that I did it to protect you, to keep you away from your father’s enemies.

But, I beg you, please! Do not hate your father. He has a fair reason to leave us. Cassandra told me everything. It has to happen.

You two are the only family I have left. Please, protect each other, have each other’s backs. Use the weapons your father gave you, the Yamato and the Rebellion.

Then, find the sisters of Fate. Find Cassandra, Andromeda, and Galatea. They will lend you power - the power to defeat the true enemy. No matter what those people say about them, they are not the enemies. Do not believe them. You need these girls, as much as they need you. They need your help, as much as you need theirs.

And finally, I love you so, so much, my sons. Forgive me for everything.

Vergil and Dante, I love you, so much.

*

This journal was owned by Eva Sparda.

The Sisters of Fate mysteriously vanished after the demonic attack in Red Grave.

Dante survived the ordeal and used a different name to conceal his true identity from Sparda’s enemies.

Vergil, like the Sisters of Fate, vanished that evening.

This is Eva’s final journal entry.

***

XIX

***

You were staring at your own trembling hands, your body feeling tense all over.

The Aspect of The Future has finally shown you how to fulfill the wish.

After so many years of searching, of longing to see that white - haired man in your visions, it has finally come to this,…

You knew that you will be successful in your mission, yes.

But, deep inside your aching heart, you don’t want to do it.

You were so afraid and so confused. You want to shout at the universe, to tell each and everyone who lived in it how unfair your life was. You believed you would have your precious, happy ending. You honestly, achingly, believed that you would be with this man.

But, alas, you were wrong.

For your life, ever since that night you were taken over by the entities that saved you countless of times, belonged to them and to this man, and has never been yours.

And this life you had, you knew you must offer.

You knew everything was inevitable, and, yet, God! You don’t want to die just yet. You want to live! You want to live longer,…

*

Four days prior

*

Nico and Nero found out, without you even telling them, how V didn’t confess to you that evening.

And since then, you two have become even more distant with each other.

Especially V. He stubbornly refused to take breaks, volunteering to do extra rounds of Devil Hunting even if he didn’t have to. Even if he looked like he was about to collapse at any given moment. He worked his familiars to the bone, which was very evident with Griffon’s complaints. He rarely showed himself to the rest of the crew, and when he did, he never really paid any attention to all of you.

Especially you. He avoided you like the plague, he never even bothered to look at you. And during those times when you had no choice but to lock eyes, he just looked at you with those empty green ones of his, devoid of his usual warmth towards you.

He has become a different person, altogether. And you didn’t understand why.

“Well I’ve heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord.

But you don’t really care for music, do you?

Well it goes like this:

The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift,

The baffled king composing Hallelujah!

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

That afternoon the next day, V simply went out of the van without saying a word. Nero shook his head in disbelief and faced you as you sat on the sofa, listening to that dreary song on the radio.

"Well your faith was strong but you needed proof.

You saw her bathing on the roof,

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya.

She tied you to her kitchen chair,

And she broke your throne and she cut your hair.

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah!

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

"Hey, you okay?” The youth carefully asked you as he kneeled in front of you. He sensed your pain, and he hated to watch someone like you suffer in silence - because he knew you did not deserve any of it.

You made an effort to smile at the person who was worried about you, and yet your eyes remained the same - dull, lifeless, melancholic,…

“But baby I’ve been here before,

I’ve seen this room and I’ve walked this floor.

You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya.

And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch,

And love is not a victory march.

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah!

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

"Other than my heart slowly falling apart, yes, I’m fine.” You sincerely admitted to the boy, knowing full well that it would do you no good to hide your emotions from him.

Nero’s eyebrows furrowed as he sighed in dismay. He held your hands and squeezed them as gently as he could. This simple, yet thoughtful, gesture of his made you emotional once more, and with a herculean effort, you held back the tears that longed to pour out since yesterday morning.

“Kyrie bakes the best apple pies in the world, no shit.” Nero told you, his voice as calm and as gentle as possible.

“I won’t argue with that.” Nico agreed as she sat next to you and wrapped a single, protective arm around you. “Kyrie’s pies are simply the best.”

Nero smiled at her. For once, they weren’t arguing. “When this is all over, I’d like you to come live with us in Fortuna for a while. I’m pretty sure Kyrie would love your company.”

“Oh, I would love to. Thank you, Nero.” You answered with a simple nod.

“And, ah,…” Nero held up his shiny new Breaker made from the materials that Nico got from the Electric Furies that you fought last Saturday, showing you its powerful fist. “… if you want, I can teach V a lesson or two. I’ll even offer it free of charge. Just say the word.” He graciously offered, then winked at you, his charmingly boyish smile making you giggle.

“Oh, you don’t have to but, I’ll think about that offer of yours.”

“There you go!” Nero cheered for you as he playfully bumped his metal fist against your cheek, making you laugh. “That’s it! You look nicer with that smile on your face. I can’t wait to introduce you to my Kyrie.”

“And I can’t wait to finally meet her.” You replied as you glanced at both him and Nico, the two people who never left you and stayed with you through this hard time. “I only knew her from Nico’s many awesome stories about her but, I haven’t actually met her personally.”

“Yeah, but first, we have a Dreadnought to kill. Time to move on, Nico!” Nero said as he stood up. He nodded at her, saluted at you playfully, and finally left.

“What does that supposed to mean?”

“Like that. It’s time to move on.” Nico answered as she went straight to the driver’s seat, sat down and fastened her seatbelt. “Honey, let’s not wait for the grass to grow! Let’s go!”

You hastily went to the passenger’s seat and fastened your own seatbelt. Nico nodded, and started the trailer,…

“Well there was a time when you let me know,

What’s really going on below.

But now you never show that to me do ya?

But remember when I moved in you,

And the holy dove was moving too,

And every breath we drew was Hallelujah!

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

"HANG ON TIGHT!” Nico shrieked as she drove the trailer past the ballroom towards the balcony where you had that last, painful conversation with V,…

… where you first met the man who was the cause of all your pain and everything else,…

… where you danced your first and last waltz with the man you loved and achingly missed,…

… where you met the love of your life,…

… where you saw your future.

“NICO, WE’RE GONNA CRASH THAT BALCONY!”

“THAT’S THE POINT!” Nico answered with a wild smile on her face. “WE HAVE TO MOVE ON, RIGHT?!”

And just like that - she drove through the remains of the glass that separated the ballroom and the balcony and made your way towards the railing,…

“Maybe there’s a God above,

But all I’ve ever learned from love,

Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya.

And it’s not a cry that you hear at night.

It’s not somebody who’s seen the light.

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah!

"AAAHHH!” You shrieked as Nico drove straight through the railing, destroying everything in her path, marble, pillar, and all, and made the abused vehicle fly in mid - air,…

“Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

You seriously thought that you’re going to die. The ground looked far ahead, the things inside the vehicle that weren’t attached flew as you went down, down, down towards who knew where,…

"Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

”(Y/N), WHAT DO YA REALLY FEEL ABOUT V?!“

"I LOVE HIM! OH, GOD, FORGIVE ME! I DO!”

“THEN, TELL HIM!”

“WHAT?!”

“SLOW DUMBASS! IF HE CHICKENED OUT ON YA LAST NIGHT, THEN IT’S UP TO YA TO DRAG HIS ASS BACK HERE AND MAKE HIM STAY FOR GOOD!”

“I DON’T GET IT!”

“SLOW! DUMB! ASS! CONFESS TO HIM!”

“AAAHHH!”

“Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!”

Just when the vehicle was about to land, you closed your eyes, feeling as if your whole world would end.

You felt everything around you quake violently, and when you could no longer feel the wild tremors, you opened your eyes and saw a breathtakingly - brand new scenery where the sunlight shone through every last picturesque structure.

Nico and Nero were, indeed, correct. Perhaps they felt that your old base was stifling and harsh.

Perhaps you just needed a breath of fresh air, along with a cleaner, more positive view of the outside world.

“Go get the guy, hon.” Nico ordered you as she bumped your shoulder.

“What if he didn’t listen to me?”

“Then, try again. And don’t stop until he listens to you.”

“And what makes you so sure this is gonna work?”

The artisan winked at you as she gave you a knowing smirk. “He loves you, too. I know. He’s obvious.”

“Is that so?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “You really are slow, aren’t you?” She clapped her hands and spoke once more. “Go! Go! There are Demons to kill! The boys are out! No one’s gonna see you transform! Except V. Let him see you do it. And while you’re at it, tell him how you feel. He won’t resist you by then. And that’s your last resort! If it doesn’t work, I don’t know what will.”

“Okay! Okay!” You answered as you stood and took your weapons.

“Grab that pretty, skinny ass, woman!”

“Stop. Just, stop,…”

For four days straight, all of you did the same routine. V ( who had a really rough time finding the new location of the van ) was always the first to leave, followed by Nero ( who laughed so unapologetically hard when the poet finally arrived at the trailer about three hours late the next day ).

And you? You always leave after the boys.

During that short time, you got used to the habit of leaving “after the boys” that it has become second nature to you.

And during those times of lonely Devil Hunting, you hoped and prayed that V would show up. As you sliced flesh after Demon flesh, you even envisioned yourself confessing to him. You would first apologize, then tell him how you missed him. After that, you could see yourself saying those words to him.

And then, you would simply smile at the nice and positive thought.

Yes, your situation with V as of the moment looked very dreadful. But, deep inside your heart, you knew that everything’s going to be just fine.

Everything’s gonna be alright.

It has become your ultimate mantra.

You were reciting it four days after you “moved on” as you killed a Demon, when, all of a sudden,…

“… find me when the time comes.”

You heard a soft voice inside your head. You closed your eyes, feeling the entity inside you take over as it began showing you visions.

The moment you were transported to a different place, this time, to a house that was seemingly burning, you saw yourself touching a sword and whispering to it, pleading,…

“Our fates are connected. Our bond will remain unbreakable. Whatever happens, the Yamato will always bring us closer. Find me when the time comes, and then,…”

Just then, the door burst open, and some menacing creatures entered with all the intention to murder you.

You grabbed the sword and held it high in an effort to guard yourself against the Demons.

“I will wait for as long as it takes. I only ask for one thing: don’t forget about me,…

… Vergil.”

Vergil,…

Everything became blurry, and when everything cleared up, you saw her face once more - the woman who always haunted your dreams.

“Please, find him and save him before it’s too late! Protect him at all cost. Save him from his death!” She begged you once more. “I’ am so sorry, my dear. Fulfill my wish, I beg you,…

… Galatea.”

Gala,… tea?

You reached out a hand but, you were too late. She was ripped open by the Demons around her.

Yet, despite that you could still hear her voice inside your head.

“I’ am deeply sorry for hiding this for too long. Vergil is dying and you are the only one who could save him. But, in order to do it, you must offer your life,…

… willingly,…

… only then can he fully revive and defeat his enemies.

Forgive me, dear (Y/N). Forgive me.”

You opened your eyes in utter shock. However, despite the fact that you just escaped from that unspeakable vision, you were horrified to find yourself in another one wherein you were looking at a pair of bloody, golden eyes,…

“This,… is what f - friends are f - for,…”

You were given no rest as you suddenly found yourself being sucked into another vision and saw yourself running endlessly away from something truly horrific. The thing which wounded those majestic eyes,…

“Why?!”

Feeling tired and beaten to the bones, you stopped, only to hear a familiar voice that whispered to you,…

“What evil lurks, I must destroy!”

You felt a sharp pain in your chest, like you were being stabbed. Just like that dream you had,…

But, it wasn’t the only pain you felt.

You felt hopelessness, melancholy,

… and above all, heartbreak,…

“Why?!”

You jolted from your fearful visions, feeling all your tears pour out.

And who could blame you?

You just saw everything, and you finally have all the answers.

You were staring at your own trembling hands, your body feeling tense all over.

The Aspect of The Future has finally shown you how to fulfill the wish.

After so many years of searching, of longing to see that white - haired man in your visions, it has finally come to this,…

You knew that you will be successful in your mission, yes.

But, deep inside your aching heart, you don’t want to do it.

You were so afraid and so confused. You want to shout at the universe, to tell each and everyone who lived in it how unfair your life was. You believed you would have your precious, happy ending. You honestly, achingly, believed that you would be with this man.

But, alas, you were wrong.

For your life, ever since that night you were taken over by the entities that saved you countless of times, belonged to them and to this man, and has never been yours.

And this life you had, you knew you must offer.

You knew everything was inevitable, and, yet, God! You don’t want to die just yet. You want to live! You want to live longer,…

To fulfill her wish, you need to die,…

For him to survive and regain his strength, he must drive that sword through your heart.

For him to defeat his enemies,…

… V,…

… the one you truly loved and vowed to protect,…

… must put an end,…

… to your life.

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

[thedyingmoon]

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

XIX

***

"Fire and ice. Night and day. Moon and sun. Twins. They are coming, mama."

Was dear Cassandra's prophecy.

Nine months later, Vergil and Dante came to our life. Finally, the gods have answered our prayers. And so, our happy family just became bigger.

*

The moment she laid eyes on him, Andromeda took a great liking to Dante. She always played with him, made him laugh, and when he got a bit older, she started showing him how she trained with the Rebellion. She told him a lot of stories of her adventures with the mighty sword. She influenced him too much that he was starting to grow just like her - courageous and strong, both in will and in body.

And as he grew up with Andromeda, Dante became attached with the Rebellion, as well, and the aspect of slaying Demons with it. More so than her that he begged his father for him to have it. And he relented, saying that he could have it at the right time. A few years later, the two started training together. There never was a pair so perfectly matched and balanced than those two.

Vergil, on the other hand, grew up very differently from Dante. While he was equally strong in both will and in body just like his younger brother, he was wiser than him. Much more than most children of his age.

And during those years of growth, he was watched over by none other than the shy and gentle Galatea.

As soon as he was born, the Bearer of The Past stayed with him. She told him lots of stories, read to him William Blake's poetry ( he took a great liking to the poet's Book of Urizen ), and sang to him sweet, sweet lullabies. And above all, she showed him unconditional kindness and gentleness. Just like what I did for her when she was a bit younger. The love I have for her extended to him.

Galatea loved Vergil. So much that she pledged her own life to protect him.

Andromeda for Dante and Galatea for Vergil,...

*

However, during those years of the twins' growth, Cassandra has become a bit of a recluse. She rarely spoke, rarely ate, and she doesn't play with her younger siblings anymore. She often isolated herself from us, always watching us from afar.

I tried to speak with her, to convince her to open up, and she would only sigh and glance at me with those dark, sorrowful eyes.

As years went by, she became more and more distant, she, herself, becoming a different person, altogether.

She would watch the weather outside, and would stare for hours when it rained or stormed. Her sisters, including the twins, convinced her to be with them, to no avail.

Then, one day, when my husband spoke with her, she simply broke down and cried. She was,... pleading with him, for an unknown reason.

For one last time, she begged him,...

... and on that night, he left us, just like that,...

And Cassandra? She locked herself in her room and cried day and night. I managed to convince her to let me in, to tell me everything she knew.

And that's when I finally found out,...

... the inevitable,...

*

Vergil, Dante, if you are reading this right now, the Demons might have already killed me. But, do understand that I did it to protect you, to keep you away from your father's enemies.

But, I beg you, please! Do not hate your father. He has a fair reason to leave us. Cassandra told me everything. It has to happen.

You two are the only family I have left. Please, protect each other, have each other's backs. Use the weapons your father gave you, the Yamato and the Rebellion.

Then, find the sisters of Fate. Find Cassandra, Andromeda, and Galatea. They will lend you power - the power to defeat the true enemy. No matter what those people say about them, they are not the enemies. Do not believe them. You need these girls, as much as they need you. They need your help, as much as you need theirs.

And finally, I love you so, so much, my sons. Forgive me for everything.

Vergil and Dante, I love you, so much.

*

This journal was owned by Eva Sparda.

The Sisters of Fate mysteriously vanished after the demonic attack in Red Grave.

Dante survived the ordeal and used a different name to conceal his true identity from Sparda's enemies.

Vergil, like the Sisters of Fate, vanished that evening.

This is Eva's final journal entry.

***

You were staring at your own trembling hands, your body feeling tense all over.

The Aspect of The Future has finally shown you how to fulfill the wish.

After so many years of searching, of longing to see that white - haired man in your visions, it has finally come to this,...

You knew that you will be succesful in your mission, yes.

But, deep inside your aching heart, you don't want to do it.

You were so afraid and so confused. You want to shout at the universe, to tell each and everyone who lived in it how unfair your life was. You believed you would have your precious, happy ending. You honestly, achingly, believed that you would be with this man.

But, alas, you were wrong.

For your life, ever since that night you were taken over by the entities that saved you countless of times, belonged to them and to this man, and has never been yours.

And this life you had, you knew you must offer.

You knew everything was inevitable, and, yet, God! You don't want to die just yet. You want to live! You want to live longer,...

*

Four days prior

*

Nico and Nero found out, without you even telling them, how V didn't confess to you that evening.

And since then, you two have become even more distant with each other.

Especially V. He stubbornly refused to take breaks, volunteering to do extra rounds of Devil Hunting even if he didn't have to. Even if he looked like he was about to collapse at any given moment. He worked his familiars to the bone, which was very evident with Griffon's complaints. He rarely showed himself to the rest of the crew, and when he did, he never really paid any attention to all of you.

Especially you. He avoided you like the plague, he never even bothered to look at you. And during those times when you had no choice but to lock eyes, he just looked at you with those empty green ones of his, devoid of his usual warmth towards you.

He has become a different person, altogether. And you didn't understand why.

"Well I've heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord.

But you don't really care for music, do you?

Well it goes like this:

The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift,

The baffled king composing Hallelujah!

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

That afternoon the next day, V simply went out of the van without saying a word. Nero shook his head in disbelief and faced you as you sat on the sofa, listening to that dreary song on the radio.

"Well your faith was strong but you needed proof.

You saw her bathing on the roof,

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya.

She tied you to her kitchen chair,

And she broke your throne and she cut your hair.

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah!

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

"Hey, you okay?" The youth carefully asked you as he kneeled in front of you. He sensed your pain, and he hated to watch someone like you suffer in silence - because he knew you did not deserve any of it.

You made an effort to smile at the person who was worried about you, and yet your eyes remained the same - dull, lifeless, melancholic,...

"But baby I've been here before,

I've seen this room and I've walked this floor.

You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya.

And I've seen your flag on the marble arch,

And love is not a victory march.

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

"Other than my heart slowly falling apart, yes, I'm fine." You sincerely admitted to the boy, knowing full well that it would do you no good to hide your emotions from him.

Nero's eyebrows furrowed as he sighed in dismay. He held your hands and squeezed them as gently as he could. This simple, yet thoughtful, gesture of his made you emotional once more, and with a herculean effort, you held back the tears that longed to pour out since yesterday morning.

"Kyrie bakes the best apple pies in the world, no shit." Nero told you, his voice as calm and as gentle as possible.

"I won't argue with that." Nico agreed as she sat next to you and wrapped a single, protective arm around you. "Kyrie's pies are simply the best."

Nero smiled at her. For once, they weren't arguing. "When this is all over, I'd like you to come live with us in Fortuna for a while. I'm pretty sure Kyrie would love your company."

"Oh, I would love to. Thank you, Nero." You answered with a simple nod.

"And, ah,..." Nero held up his shiny new Breaker made from the materials that Nico got from the Electric Furies that you fought last Saturday, showing you its powerful fist. "... if you want, I can teach V a lesson or two. I'll even offer it free of charge. Just say the word." He graciously offered, then winked at you, his charmingly boyish smile making you giggle.

"Oh, you don't have to but, I'll think about that offer of yours."

"There you go!" Nero cheered for you as he playfully bumped his metal fist against your cheek, making you laugh. "That's it! You look nicer with that smile on your face. I can't wait to introduce you to my Kyrie."

"And I can't wait to finally meet her." You replied as you glanced at both him and Nico, the two people who never left you and stayed with you through this hard time. "I only knew her from Nico's many awesome stories about her but, I haven't actually met her personally."

"Yeah, but first, we have a Dreadnought to kill. Time to move on, Nico!" Nero said as he stood up. He nodded at her, saluted at you playfully, and finally left.

"What does that supposed to mean?"

"Like that. It's time to move on." Nico answered as she went straight to the driver's seat, sat down and fastened her seatbelt. "Honey, let's not wait for the grass to grow! Let's go!"

You hastily went to the passenger's seat and fastened your own seatbelt. Nico nodded, and started the trailer,...

"Well there was a time when you let me know,

What's really going on below.

But now you never show that to me do ya?

But remember when I moved in you,

And the holy dove was moving too,

And every breath we drew was Hallelujah!

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

"HANG ON TIGHT!" Nico shrieked as she drove the trailer past the ballroom towards the balcony where you had that last, painful conversation with V,...

... where you first met the man who was the cause of all your pain and everything else,...

... where you danced your first and last waltz with the man you loved and achingly missed,...

... where you met the love of your life,...

... where you saw your future.

"NICO, WE'RE GONNA CRASH THAT BALCONY!"

"THAT'S THE POINT!" Nico answered with a wild smile on her face. "WE HAVE TO MOVE ON, RIGHT?!"

And just like that - she drove through the remains of the glass that separated the ballroom and the balcony and made your way towards the railing,...

"Maybe there's a God above,

But all I've ever learned from love,

Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya.

And it's not a cry that you hear at night.

It's not somebody who's seen the light.

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!

"AAAHHH!" You shrieked as Nico drove straight through the railing, destroying everything in her path, marble, pillar, and all, and made the abused vehicle fly in mid - air,...

"Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

You seriously thought that you're going to die. The ground looked far ahead, the things inside the vehicle that weren't attached flew as you went down, down, down towards who knew where,...

"Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!

"(Y/N), WHAT DO YA REALLY FEEL ABOUT V?!"

"I LOVE HIM! OH, GOD, FORGIVE ME! I DO!"

"THEN, TELL HIM!"

"WHAT?!"

"SLOW DUMBASS! IF HE CHICKENED OUT ON YA LAST NIGHT, THEN IT'S UP TO YA TO DRAG HIS ASS BACK HERE AND MAKE HIM STAY FOR GOOD!"

"I DON'T GET IT!"

"SLOW! DUMB! ASS! CONFESS TO HIM!"

"AAAHHH!"

"Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah!"

Just when the vehicle was about to land, you closed your eyes, feeling as if your whole world would end.

You felt everything around you quake violently, and when you could no longer feel the wild tremors, you opened your eyes and saw a breathtakingly - brand new scenery where the sunlight shone through every last picturesque structure.

Nico and Nero were, indeed, correct. Perhaps they felt that your old base was stifling and harsh.

Perhaps you just needed a breath of fresh air, along with a cleaner, more positive view of the outside world.

"Go get the guy, hon." Nico ordered you as she bumped your shoulder.

"What if he didn't listen to me?"

"Then, try again. And don't stop until he listens to you."

"And what makes you so sure this is gonna work?"

The artisan winked at you as she gave you a knowing smirk. "He loves you, too. I know. He's obvious."

"Is that so?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "You really are slow, aren't you?" She clapped her hands and spoke once more. "Go! Go! There are Demons to kill! The boys are out! No one's gonna see you transform! Except V. Let him see you do it. And while you're at it, tell him how you feel. He won't resist you by then. And that's your last resort! If it doesn't work, I don't know what will."

"Okay! Okay!" You answered as you stood and took your weapons.

"Grab that pretty, skinny ass, woman!"

"Stop. Just, stop,..."

For four days straight, all of you did the same routine. V ( who had a really rough time finding the new location of the van ) was always the first to leave, followed by Nero ( who laughed so unapologetically hard when the poet finally arrived at the trailer about three hours late the next day ).

And you? You always leave after the boys.

During that short time, you got used to the habit of leaving "after the boys" that it has become second nature to you.

And during those times of lonely Devil Hunting, you hoped and prayed that V would show up. As you sliced flesh after Demon flesh, you even envisioned yourself confessing to him. You would first apologize, then tell him how you missed him. After that, you could see yourself saying those words to him.

And then, you would simply smile at the nice and positive thought.

Yes, your situation with V as of the moment looked very dreadful. But, deep inside your heart, you knew that everything's going to be just fine.

Everything's gonna be alright.

It has become your ultimate mantra.

You were reciting it four days after you "moved on" as you killed a Demon, when, all of a sudden,...

"... find me when the time comes."

You heard a soft voice inside your head. You closed your eyes, feeling the entity inside you take over as it began showing you visions.

The moment you were transported to a different place, this time, to a house that was seemingly burning, you saw yourself touching a sword and whispering to it, pleading,...

"Our fates are connected. Our bond will remain unbreakable. Whatever happens, the Yamato will always bring us closer. Find me when the time comes, and then,..."

Just then, the door bursted open, and some menacing creatures entered with all the intention to murder you.

You grabbed the sword and held it high in an effort to guard yourself against the Demons.

"I will wait for as long as it takes. I only ask for one thing: don't forget about me,...

... Vergil."

Vergil,...

Everything became blurry, and when everything cleared up, you saw her face once more - the woman who always haunted your dreams.

"Please, find him and save him before it's too late! Protect him at all cost. Save him from his death!" She begged you once more. "I' am so sorry, my dear. Fulfill my wish, I beg you,...

... Galatea."

Gala,... tea?

You reached out a hand but, you were too late. She was ripped open by the Demons around her.

Yet, despite that you could still hear her voice inside your head.

"I' am deeply sorry for hiding this for too long. Vergil is dying and you are the only one who could save him. But, in order to do it, you must offer your life,...

... willingly,...

... only then can he fully revive and defeat his enemies.

Forgive me, dear (Y/N). Forgive me."

You opened your eyes in utter shock. However, despite the fact that you just escaped from that unspeakable vision, you were horrified to find yourself in another one wherein you were looking at a pair of bloody, golden eyes,...

"This,... is what f - friends are f - for,..."

You were given no rest as you suddenly found yourself being sucked into another vision and saw yourself running endlessly away from something truly horrific. The thing which wounded those majestic eyes,...

"Why?!"

Feeling tired and beaten to the bones, you stopped, only to hear a familiar voice that whispered to you,...

"What evil lurks, I must destroy!"

You felt a sharp pain in your chest, like you were being stabbed. Just like that dream you had,...

But, it wasn't the only pain you felt.

You felt hopelessness, melancholy,

... and above all, heartbreak,...

"Why?!"

You jolted from your fearful visions, feeling all your tears pour out.

And who could blame you?

You just saw everything, and you finally have all the answers.

You were staring at your own trembling hands, your body feeling tense all over.

The Aspect of The Future has finally shown you how to fulfill the wish.

After so many years of searching, of longing to see that white - haired man in your visions, it has finally come to this,...

You knew that you will be succesful in your mission, yes.

But, deep inside your aching heart, you don't want to do it.

You were so afraid and so confused. You want to shout at the universe, to tell each and everyone who lived in it how unfair your life was. You believed you would have your precious, happy ending. You honestly, achingly, believed that you would be with this man.

But, alas, you were wrong.

For your life, ever since that night you were taken over by the entities that saved you countless of times, belonged to them and to this man, and has never been yours.

And this life you had, you knew you must offer.

You knew everything was inevitable, and, yet, God! You don't want to die just yet. You want to live! You want to live longer,...

To fulfill her wish, you need to die,...

For him to survive and regain his strength, he must drive that sword through your heart.

For him to defeat his enemies,...

... V,...

... the one you truly loved and vowed to protect,...

... must put an end,...

... to your life.

***

~ A V X Reader set in an Alternate Universe wherein Nico's trailer defies all laws of physics. 👌

~ Tagging these friends, @heaven-on-a-landslide , @lessy86 , @gxthghoulfriend , @boundbysoul , @ehrzeth , @krazy06 , @diabeticsugarush , @ceruleanworld , and @simmy-ships . 🖤

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

[writing-anomaly]

Torn

Fandom:  Jojolion

Summary: Yasuho's life is tearing at the seams. The volatile Rokakaka trade is catching up to them and when Josuke unravels, Yasuho  is pushed to her limit. She's left more vulnerable than ever as she struggles to protect two men who barely know her.

This a story in which the protected must become the protector.

Chapter 2

After Jobin had left, Josuke and Yasuho returned to the task at hand with few words exchanged. Honestly, as glorious as his shoulder length locks had been, it hurt Yasuho to cut it.

"There! All done." Yasuho smiled as she set the clippers back on the bathroom counter. She tried not to blush as she began brushing stray hairs off of Josuke's bare shoulders.

"Well done, Yasuho! I feel a little more handsome than I did 10 minutes ago." A boyish grin stretched across his features as he gripped the edge of the counter, leaning into his own reflection. He inspected her handy-work with a keen eye, his own elegant hands brushing over the soft fibers of his hair.

She smiled softly, releasing the breathe she didn't know she'd been holding. It was a relief to see how pleased Josuke was with her handiwork. No nicks. His hairline was perfectly edged, and Joshuu wouldn't be able to do a darn thing about it.

"Hey, in the future.. if you feel like you need a cut, we can make a date out of it." It was either that, or she'd make a point of teaching Josuke how to better tend to himself. No more of Joshuu's cock-blocker haircuts. The young man simply nodded in response, smiling feverishly in the mirror.

"Ok. I guess I'll go home now." With that done, she began to gather her belongings. It felt like she had overstayed her welcome, not with Josuke, but within the Higashikata household. It didn't matter that all of the family, save for Jobin, had left for Hawaii. Maybe it was the wall-eyes, or maybe it was the awkwardness of visiting the home of a childhood friend whom she constantly rejected on a romantic level.

Josuke walked her to the front door as usual, where Yasuho grabbed the tennis shoes she'd taken off earlier and easily slipped them on. There was no need to tie them. She'd placed a double knot on her shoelaces that were never undone. They were as good as slippers.

Josuke waited patiently, never straying his eyes from her, even when opening the door to allow her to exit. However, she hadn't expected him to follow her outside and close the door behind him.

Yasuho looked up at him with a questioning stare.

"Thanks again..for the hair cut." Josuke stood in the doorway, scratching his head awkwardly. He had redressed himself in a variation of his usual sailor suit. A hesitant hand reached out to brush a stray hair from her rosy cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he traced down along the curve of her neck before resting at the nape. "Sorry if I made things awkward back then..you know, before Jobin. I guess I've been feeling kinda weird lately.."

"How so?" Yasuho was relieved that he was opening up.

"I don't know... I find myself doing things that, just don't make sense." His elegant dark eyebrows furrowed. "Like, when Joshuu left his nail clippings on the dining room table. I was gonna just throw-em away.. but when i opened the trash can, my head hurt and my heart started to pound. So.."

"You kept them?"

"They're in my drawer, in the bathroom."Josuke's lips seemed to twitch, unsure of whether a smile was appropriate for the conversation. He started to drag his feet along the asphalt, grinding a dead leaf into golden brown flakes. The hand that he'd placed on Yasuho's neck, withdrew as if he'd been caught touching something that was off limits. Josuke was so close, yet he'd never felt so far away. Not since she'd first met him near the wall-eyes.

But Yasuho refused to let him run away from her. Not even her own family had made her feel as wanted as Josuke did. With him, she fit. Broken as she was, he filled in the cracks.

She closed the space between them and rested her head on his broad chest, nuzzling into his body heat with each rise and fall of his rib cage. She could feel him stiffen at the contact, pulling back slightly.

"Listen, you've been through a lot. Try not to frustrate yourself. Some of your old personality might be trying to settle itself out, even if you can't understand it." The words she spoke were tender. She could feel him tremble slightly, as he released an emotion that had mostly likely been capped for longer than was healthy. There were no sobs, just an occasional wetness that tapped her forehead as she nuzzled the crook of his neck.

Yasuho felt Josuke's arms wrap around her while she was content to stroking lines in the fabric of his cotton shirt, uttering occasional words of comfort. They stayed there, resting in each other's arms, unbothered, listening to each heartbeat, and enjoying the cool air of the evening breeze.

When Josuke seemed to have calmed down, Yasuho gently brushed her lips against his collar bone as she whispered, "Give it some time."

Yasuho lifted her head only when she felt something smooth and stiff move against her thigh.

"Umm...J-josuke?" She squeaked, and instinctively moved to grab whatever had made a home between her legs. To her horror it started to vibrate.

"It's not me, this time. I promise!" Josuke looked at her quizzically, apparently having felt the same sensation. He patted himself just as thoroughly as she did herself. She separated from him and sure enough his pants fit just as well as when he first redressed himself. No tents had been pitched.

Suddenly, the theme to her favorite love drama resonated off of her and she remembered that her skirt had pockets. She groaned. None of her friends were in the habit of calling her. If they needed something, they would text. Her dad was out of the picture, and Josuke was next to her, so there was no need for him to ring her phone, which only left one possibility..

Reluctantly, she dug her cellphone out of her pocket and tried not to frown.

"Yes, Mom?"

"Yasuho, hun. It's getting late. Where are you?" Yasuho felt incredulous at her mother's choice of rhetoric. The fact that those words came out of the mouth of a woman who notoriously disappeared for weeks at time leaving her to tend to herself when she was only in middle school made her want to scream. It was true, she'd spent her childhood chasing the affections of a mother who chased the affections of strange men, leaving her in the dust, alone to raise herself.

"I'm with a friend." Yasuho bit her lip to stop it from quivering.

"Oh, is it Yumi?"

Yasuho hadn't been friends with Yumi since 5th grade when she thought Yasuho was trying to steal her boyfriend. It was untrue of course; the boy had taken a liking to bullying her and Yumi was jealous of all the unwanted attention.

Yasuho looked over to Josuke who was now leaning against the brick wall of his house, a concerned expression on his face.

"Yea, I'll tell Yumi, you said hi." Her finger hovered over the 'call end' button and her mother seemed to sense it.

"Yasuho, wait! One more thing!" The voice was slightly frantic. Yasuho waited silently for her to continue, biting her lip even harder to catch herself from snapping off. Her only response was the low sounds of her breathing on her end of the line. It was enough encouragement for her mother to continue.

"Would you mind picking up a few things for me on your way home."

"Sure."

"Thanks dear! Oh and I have a surprise for you when you get h-"

Click.

Yasuho had heard as much as she could bear.

It was bad enough she'd have to see her face when she got home. Resentment she had tried to bury began to scratch at the surface. Her eyes closed tightly to fight the sting that was beginning to draw wetness to the corners of her lashes.

She stood still. Head lowered in a way she hoped would hide the plethora of emotions she was fighting back.

"Yasuho.." Josuke's voice was heavy as he tried to piece together what had transpired.

Even though she didn't look up, she could sense him pushing off from where he rested against the wall and turned her body away from him. Just a few moments prior she had been determined to be strong for him, with what little comfort she could offer. Now she was the one, becoming undone. She wished for all the world that she had been born to someone else, yet she still couldn't bring herself to hate her mother.

She impulsively resisted when she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist. Crying was something she preferred to do in private. Blinking held her tears at bay, but did nothing to stop her quivering lips. As much as she wanted, she couldn't hide from Josuke as he gently, yet firmly guided her body to face him. His other hand cupped her chin, lifting her head so that he could inspect her.

Something was clearly wrong.

"Yasuho..." He tried again.

What had transpired, that could have broken her down in less than 30secs?

Her pale cheeks where flushed red, brows twitching with all the effort it took to keep them apart. And she still refused to look at him, choosing instead to keep her eyes tightly shut, her long dark lashes fanning across her cheeks leaving marks where her mascara entwined with dampness that threatened to overflow.

Needing no further indication, he called forth his stand 'soft and wet'. Pristine bubbles, popping where they made contact with the tears that had overwhelmed her pride. He gazed upon her fresh face, void of any make-up, smudge, or tears.

Yasuho still refused to look at him. Eyes shut as tight as a catacomb.

She felt embarrassed that he had caught her slipping.

Yasuho was the happy one.

The girl who had it all together.

She was the shoulder to lean on.

Not the other way around.

She'd been independent since she was ten and her mother ran away with one of her lovers to God knows where. She resurfaced near the end of the school year, battered and broken after a run-in with another, younger, mistress that her rich boyfriend had left her for. Needy child as she was, Yasuho had welcomed her back with a hungry embrace. Unfortunately, that would be the pattern her life would take through to adult hood. And at this point, she couldn't afford to care anymore.

If she was honest, she'd admit that she felt an animosity toward men in general. For representing what stole her mother's affection, and how she wasn't enough for a love that should have been hers by birthright.

Yasuho's eyes fluttered open when she felt Josuke's plush lips brush against he corners of her eyes. It felt like the wings of a butterfly; soft and fleeting.

As she looked into his eyes she had to admit Josuke was different, unlike any other man she had crossed paths with. They were wide with concern, clearly alarmed at her reaction to her mother's call. It made her want to cry all over again.

"Are you ok?" He held her face in both of his hands, not allowing her to turn away.

"Yes...I should go." Her eyes pleaded with his. Silently begging him not to pick the scab of an old wound.

After a long moment, he relented any further questions he was ailing to ask.

"Let me walk you home. It's gotten dark." Josuke grabbed her hand only to have her snatch it away, as if she'd been burned by his touch.

"That's ok. I have to run a few errands first."

"I don't like the idea of you out, by yourself this late." He insisted, taking a few steps to match her pace as she proceded to exit the Higashikata property and onto the main road adjacent to it. The street lights had been triggered, lighting the path she would take. There were few people on the sidewalks. The majority, middle-aged business men returning home after drinking with their colleagues. They wobbled down the street, mostly minding their own lives. One walked straight into a sign post muttering nonsensical words about how his coworker didn't deserve the promotion.

Harmless.

Nothing she wasn't accustomed to handling.

Josuke's assessment of their surroundings seemed to trigger a deep well of irritation. He frowned, the cogs seeming to turn behind his unnatural eyes.

"Yasuho. Biologically, men feel the need to copulate and.."

oh, Jeez.

As if she wasn't already aware..

He continued, "If the wrong person caught you alone and I wasn't near to protect you...I wouldn't be able forgive myself." His dark brows knit together and his mouth twisted as if he had bitten into something sour. Her love interest was concerned about her purity being assaulted..

Yasuho's cheeks were so inflamed, she wouldn't have been surprised if she had spontaneously combusted. "Omg, Josuke. You act like some guy's waiting around to sink his claws into me." Yasuho was a far cry from what she herself, considered to be attractive. There were plenty of other girls in Morioh, for a predator to focus on if he wanted a real catch. She was pretty sure, she'd be alright.

As if to prove he was serious, he grabbed her hand tightly, determined to make sure she made it to her destination safe and untouched. He dragged her down the sidewalk like an unruly child.

"Oh, God.." Yasuho grabbed her phone.

Sure enough, her mother had texted her a list of items to fetch before she returned:

Bicardi Rum

Trojan (XL)

Tomato Sauce

Thanks Hun! ~ Mom <3 XOXO

...she wants a pack of condoms?

Yasuho looked at her phone, a ghastly expression on her face as a new realization dawned on her.

Her mom hadn't been dumped this time.

She felt like her spirit had left her body and she stopped struggling as Josuke continued to pull her hand to match his brisk pace.

There was no way she could buy a pack of XL condoms with Josuke watching!

She'd rather die.

Suddenly, her phone chimed as Yasuho's stand 'Paisely Park' displayed two options.

Head to Seven Eleven

Board Bus 495 in less than one minute

Yasuho chose the second option.

She and Josuke both turned around as headlights as bright as the morning sun engulfed them from behind. Yasuho realized they had made it to the bus stop with out even trying.

Quickly, she turned to Josuke and kissed the corner of his mouth, using his moment of stupor to take her exit, "Josuke, I'm just gonna take the bus home. It goes straight to my apartment!"

Before his lips could part in protest, she had already boarded and paid her fare.

The bus doors closed in his face.

Josuke looked upon the retreating transport with an unsettled expression.

Through her window seat she peaked her head out and waved at him.

"Nothing ever happens in Morioh, anyway."  

To be continued... 

[holycalum]

vice (c.h.) part 3!!

summary- (y/n) has another #breakdown but like ACTUALLY this time she goes home just read it 

part 1 part 2 part 4

word count- 3.6k+

a/n- im terrible at summaries i figure if ur reading this far you don’t care you just wanna know what happens ya dig? also i appreciate all the love and support for this fic so much?? because i really thought this would flop but im so happy people are enjoying it. vice is literally my baby rn and i’ve put a lot of effort into it, and to see it pay off is grand ok goodbye. “fuck yeah,” i slurred, holding up my red cup in triumph. “midterms are hashtag over.” i slumped into britt, and she groaned, trying to push me off of her.  

“you’re too drunk,” she yelled over the thumping music. “your flights early tomorrow.”

“don’t care,” i smiled, dancing again. but britt’s word cut through my drunk thoughts moments later, and traveled straight to the gut. i might as well have doubled over because of the sinking feeling in my stomach. i had to go home the next day, and i didn’t want to in the slightest. the remix playing was drowned out as i stopped dancing abruptly, and got stuck in my head. the dark cloud that was rarely over my head anymore came crashing back, and i didn’t have calum to distract me. i had pushed the idea of me leaving college a semester early to kick start my life the back of my head, letting myself get lost in my studies for once, and calum. the second one was really the kicker. i pushed my way through the crowd, suddenly feeling very queasy. i stumbled throughout the unfamiliar house. miraculously i found a bathroom, and practically threw myself into it. i locked the door behind me, and fell to the floor. the cool tile soothed my burning skin, and i felt like i was human again. i crawled over the the toilet, head spinning. 

as i gripped the disgusting bowl and willed myself to throw up, i couldn’t help but let a few tears fall. but that was only the calm before the storm, because soon enough the dark cloud above my head stormed onto me. i cried so hard i gagged, and couldn’t catch my breath. my heart felt shriveled up and small and dead.

i had never been the drunk girl to have a complete meltdown, but i couldn’t stop the emotions from shooting out of every pore in my body. i felt like i was one big sad blob, and i physically couldn’t stop myself from getting drenched in the waters from my dark cloud. 

my crisis was interrupted by a knock at the door, i prayed it was a nice drunk girl that would braid my hair and tell me i’m pretty so i’d stop crying. but when i unlocked the door, calum’s eyes met mine and i cried even harder. i leaned against the cabinets, face in my hands, not wanting calum to see me at all, i wanted to disappear. 

it was funny, in the moments i wanted to be alone with my thoughts the most, calum always seemed to show up. 

“no, no, no,” calum’s words came out frantic, as he kneeled down in front of me and pulled my hands away from my face. the look of panic on his face sent my head spinning. 

“what’s wrong, pretty girl?” his nickname pulled at my heart strings and only made the knot in my stomach grown tighter. 

i couldn’t catch my breath enough to get any words out, so i sat there blubbering like a toddler, looking down, only for calum to tilt my head back up. 

“hey,” he cooed, shutting and locking the bathroom door once again, this time not leaving me alone. he sat against the door, and pulled me to his lap. “let’s just calm down and then we can talk, ok?” he said softly into my hair. i nodded against his leather jacket, trying to take deep breaths. even though i hated being so broken in front of calum, i couldn’t help but cling onto him like my life depended on it. the contact between us grounded me. 

every once in a while a sob would break through my breathing, causing calum to tense up and hold me tighter for a second, before going back to rubbing slow circles on my back. 

once i brought myself back down to earth, i pulled away from his chest, the world around me tilted in all directions. “i don’t wanna go home,” i cried, my words making tears well back up in my eyes. calum’s face was full of guilt as he stared into my bloodshot eyes.

“hey,” he shushed me, wiping under my eyes. he’d need a whole box of tissues to dry my cheeks, “it’s ok, just go slow.” 

“i wanna fall in love, cal.” i admitted, not being able to control the thoughts involuntarily pouring out of my mouth. “i want it all-but i cant have it. they took it from me. i don’t wanna go back.” a lump in my throat sprouted from deep within me, threatening to send me into another crying fit. 

i could see his eyes go glassy, “no,” i begged, “don’t cry.”

“m’ sorry,” he chuckled weakly, reaching up to wipe his own eyes. “going soft, sorry, continue.” another sob wracked through my chest at his state. i leaned my forehead against his chest, letting another cry out. 

“i’m hurting everyone around me,” i said sadly, “i don’t wanna hurt you anymore.” it became crystal clear that everyone was only calum. 

“but it’s so worth it, doll.” he whispered sweetly, smoothing the hairs around my ear. “you’re my sunshine, at the same time. what a contradiction you’ve proven to be.” it almost didn’t make sense. 

i settled against his chest, finally feeling a bit calmer. “an’ i know you’re really drunk right now, so i doubt you’ll remember most of this,” he starts, breath ghosting over my neck. “but, i accidentally let you in and i can feel myself falling for you. and it sucks because you’ll never be mine, fully at least, and you’re one of the only people i’ve let in so close to my heart.”

“stop,” i pleaded, “i don’t wanna know,”

“it’s not a bad thing, pretty girl.” he reassured me, “teaching me that it might be worth it, to let someone in, to enjoy someone’s company beyond sex.”

“i wish it didn’t have to be like this.” i mumbled, feeling very tired. 

“let’s get you home,”

i woke up the next day, to my blaring alarm clock. my head pounded as i flailed my hand around to turn off the terrible noise. it was the day of my flight and i couldn’t have felt any worse. eyes almost glued shut because of how puffy they were, traveled to see i was in the same clothes i was wearing the night prior. i felt like i’d been kicked in the face. clearly i had cried the night before. oh, the night before. 

i remembered almost everything, the crying, calum, more crying. it only made my headache worse. i showered to try and make myself feel less gross, but it only washed away the physical layer of grime. the emotional dirtiness would stay forever. 

i shrugged calum’s shirt over my head, it was dark blue, with maine written in bold white letters. it was probably my favorite shirt on him, so he insisted i have it. it was probably a bad idea to be reminded of calum while i went home, but it made me feel happy, and i could’ve used some light in my life. i pulled on a beanie and my long winter jacket, before grabbing my bags and heading towards the door. my roommates were still passed out from the night before, pillows over both of their heads. 

“bye, guys.” i muttered, before swinging the door open. “jesus, calum.” i breathed, clutching my chest, my heart almost stopping at the sight of him. 

“hey, sunshine.” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. the nickname launched me into the events of the night before and i willed myself not to break. 

“hi,” i breathed, biting the inside of my lip. “thank you, for last night.” 

“anytime,” he replied, “nice shirt.” this time his eyes sparkled a bit, before his face fell. 

“what’s up?” i questioned, not understanding why he was standing outside my dorm at almost eight in the morning. 

“i wanted to say bye to you before you left,” he rocked back and forth on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets. he looked small, and tucked into himself, “feels like i’m losing you.” he mumbled the last part, almost low enough for me to miss it completely.

“please don’t say that,” i shut my eyes, forcing the tears to stay inside of me. he shrugged weakly. 

“i guess this is goodbye,” he smiled at me, brown eyes shining. my stomach sank and i reached towards him and engulfed him in the biggest hug i could muster. i wanted to keep him with me forever. 

“promise me you’ll see me when i get back,” i begged him, clutching onto him for dear life. his tight grasp around my waist indicated he was doing the same.  

“i promise,” his words were muffled by my shoulders, where his perfect face was squished. he pulled away, painfully, almost making me whine at the loss of contact. “goodbye, (y/n).”

“bye, calum.” i breathed, standing on my toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “i’ll see you when i get back-when i get home.” it was honest, being with calum felt more like a home than my own childhood house did. 

“i’ll see you then,” he gulped, and he watched me walk away. the entire trip back to my hometown, i spent on the verge of tears and a nervous breakdown.

[11:34 am] me: i can’t do this 

[11:35 am] calum: cant do what sunshine?

[11:35 am] me: my plane just landed. 

[11:36 am] calum: you can get thru this pretty girl

[11:36 am] me: you have way too much faith in me

[11:38 am] calum: (:

calum’s lightheartedness made me feel a bit better as i gathered my luggage painfully quick. near the baggage claim, my parents were waiting eagerly for me.  

“(y/n)!” my mom exclaimed, in a much different tone than she’d had the last time we spoke. it almost made me throw up at how sweet she was acting when the last time she made an effort to talk to me was to try and get me to drop out of school. 

“hey guys,” i plastered on a fake smile, bringing both of my parents in for a hug. “how are you?”

“wonderful, now that you’re back!” my dad said, rubbing my shoulder. “how about we head back to the house and have some lunch, i’m sure you’re starving.”

“i am!” i lied, i wasn’t. not in the slightest, my stomach was twisted and the idea of food made me want to yakk on the spot. my appetite had disappeared the second i turned around to see calum’s pained expression as i walked away. the drive home was tense, calling for awkward small talk and bad jokes. 

when we walked in the front door, i was greeted by a very happy david. my mouth fell open as i was halfway through kicking off my shoes. i felt like my body had been frozen solid. 

“i thought you didn’t get back for another day,” i deadpanned, not being able to hide my emotions. the whole trip was already emotionally heavy, and seeing david so soon only added another layer overbearing feelings. 

“i wanted to surprise you!” david pulled me in for a lingering hug, he was too keen on surprises for my liking. i hugged him back, and our bodies didn’t mold together like calum and i’s did. i felt no fire, i felt no excitement, i felt nothing except for a heavy emptiness settling in my chest. 

my little sister, maya, bounded down the entryway. “(y/n)!” she yelled, and i ripped myself away from david to embrace her. 

“hey, lil’ one.” i said, smiling for real. i pulled away, looking at her. “not so little anymore,” she was taller than i was now, towering over me by a few inches. 

“how’s junior year?”

“rough,” she rolled her eyes, “how’s college.”

“great.” i smiled widely, catching david’s eye, “i love it, you know that.” it was the in small victories. 

“stressful, though!” david cut in,

“a good kind of stress,” i snapped back, turning my eyes back to maya slowly, boxing david out of the conversation. “i’ve met a lot of great people.”

“who’s shirt is that?” she asked suddenly, gripping the dark blue fabric. her eyebrows furrowed together at the sight of the unfamiliar shirt. 

“just a friend’s,” i smiled, my mouth doing dry. maya wiggled her eyebrows at me, and i hit her arm. i wasn’t really lying, calum and i weren’t together, so that left us as friends, although friends weren’t necessarily supposed to act like we did. 

the air that hung around us was dense and suffocating, so i saw myself to the kitchen, where an array of food was laid out in front of my parents, and david’s.  

“hey honey,” david’s mom smiled at me, pulling me in for a hung. she kept an arm wound around my waist as david’s dad caught my attention. 

“how ya’ feelin, kid?” he asked, grinning widely. 

i gave him a gentle smile back, “i’m great,” i breathed, trying to grip onto the last of my sanity that would make my statement at least a little true. we spent the eve of christmas eve making small conversation, settling into the way things had always been, and will always be. 

i ended up sprawled out on my little sisters bed, late that night, face down. everyone had left, and i could finally feel my shoulders relax. 

“so...” maya sat next to me, causing me to roll onto my side. “you seeing anyone?” she mused, poking my shoulder. 

i sighed, “you know i shouldn’t.” i put simply, trying the avoid the thought and conversation. 

“when has that stopped you?” she challenged, “i know you don’t really love david,” she added quietly, looking at me with caring eyes. 

“even if i was...” i started, “it can’t be a good idea, it’ll only hurt more people in the end.”

maya frowned, “you deserve to be happy, (y/n).”

“i know,” i pulled my lips into a straight line, “i can make it work, i still have you.”

“you won’t be fully happy,” she fretted, her tone more upset than it was before. 

“maybe no ones ever fully happy,” i shrugged, “maybe i’ll just be a little less happy, i’ll survive.”

maya chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, “do you think they’ll make me marry someone i don’t like too?” i sat up, and tucked a piece of her hair behind her hair. she seemed like a little girl again, and it broke my heart. 

“you were always more stubborn than i was,” i whispered, smoothing her hair down, “they can’t hold you down, lil’ one.” she smiled, “goodnight, maya.” the topic became too much to stomach. 

“night, (y/n).” i made my way out of maya’s room, padding down to my old bedroom. it was almost exactly the same, just a bit staler, from the lack of movement. the bed was freshly made, and i climbed into it, feeling drained from the day.

i woke up christmas eve morning, and fell into the bustling nature of the day ahead. i was helping cook and clean and prepare for everyone to come over. that night we’d have cousins and david’s family and david’s cousins over, and we’d all have one big painful night. 

when i was younger, christmas eve couldn’t come quick enough, and maya and i would spend the whole day waiting for the evening. but, as an adult, the festivities proved to be more annoying than joyful and the night rolled around too quick. my late afternoon nap was interrupted by my mother shaking me awake, informing me of the arrival of our relatives. 

i sleepily greeted everyone as they got to the house, stopping for a long conversation with my grandfather. i had never been more grateful for his ability to digress into the longest conversations ever, when i saw david and his family walk through the door. i focused on my grandfather, listening to whatever he was speaking about.

“that’s really interesting,” i said, “tell me more.” i practically begged, and my grandpa almost passed out at the excitement of someone wanting to listen to him. 

“hey, (y/n).” david piped up, his blonde hair was littered with snow flakes from being outside. 

“one second, david. my grandpas just telling me a story-“ i was cut off,

“that’s fine, sweetheart.” my grandpa said, his smile fading a bit. “go on.” i gave him a sad grin, and hugged him briefly before david pulled me towards the living room. 

“i was having a conversation,” i crossed my arms in front of david, pushing him out. 

he rolled his eyes, “i know you hate those conversations,” 

“that one was really immersing me!” i shot back, stomping my foot. he gripped my forearm, pulling me closer, “don’t throw a fit,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. 

“whatever,” i brushed it off, knowing i wouldn’t get my way. “what’s up?” “i just wanted to talk to you,” he answered, “i hadn’t seen you since i visited you and we hardly spoke yesterday.”

“m’ just tired,” i rubbed my eyes for effect, 

“we’ve barely spoken on the phone either,” he sneered, his face almost as flushed as his pink shirt. 

“two way street, david.” i said, my face straight and unmoving. 

“you know i love you, (y/n).” david sighed, reaching out for my hand. it was cold and uninviting, unlike calum’s warm embrace. “i just get busy, and distracted. i could use something to pull me out of it.”

“i get busy too,” i stated, my hand stiff in his, and i wondered if this was his idea of love. 

“with that major...” he muttered under his breath, and i almost didn’t hear him. “i just want us to be on good terms.”

“we are.” as good as we could get, it wasn’t saying much, but it was something. he smiled. 

“good.” and then i walked away, excusing myself to the restroom. i stood in front of the mirror, hands gripping the sink so hard my knuckles went white. i let myself breath for a second, feeling i’d lose control if i didn’t. i pulled my phone out quickly, typing a text to calum. 

[7:27 pm] me: merry christmas eve

[7:30 pm] calum: merry christmas to you, pretty girl

[7:30 pm] calum: how are you?

[7:31 pm] me: surviving 

“(y/n)?” a knock cut through my trance and i jumped, going to open the door. 

“hi,” i caught my breath, looking at my mom. 

“dinners ready,” she stated, “you alright?”

“yes.” i nodded, following her to the dining room. david took a seat next to me, uncomfortably gripping my thigh throughout the night. his touch wasn’t reassuring or nice, it was repulsive and empty. 

after dinner, we all sat in the living room, gathered around the tree, giving our cousins gifts and opening them early. it was a family tradition to open gifts from extended family christmas eve, and david’s family had intertwined with ours, making it like a huge pre-christmas. once all the little cousins finished opening toys and sharing with one another we all started to fall into our own conversations. 

“i actually have one more gift,” david’s voice bellowed, it was loud and dripping with confidence. 

oh no. 

“it’s for (y/n),” he said, shifting his weight to one of his knees. 

oh no. 

“(y/n),” he started, grabbing both of my hands and the attention of everyone around us. i felt maya’s eyes shoot to mine, wide and worried. i felt sick to my stomach, “i love you, you know that.” my whole body was lit aflame and not in any desirable way, i felt too hot and crowded and my tongue felt like heavy sandpaper in my mouth. 

i couldn’t do anything but sit there, mouth hung open, heart pumping wildly. i watched his mouth move but i didn’t hear any noise come out, my ears rung loudly.

“will you marry me?” i didn’t answer, i couldn’t answer. 

“of course she will!” my mother shrilled loudly, clutching her chest. 

my eyes were dull with loss, the sharp edges of my memories with calum slicing at my heart as he slid the ring on my finger. i felt like i didn’t have myself anymore, or even know who i was. i didn’t know. i didn’t care. 

david pulled me in for a hug, as our family clapped loudly around us. it was all real and i couldn’t stop it. 

i looked calm, up until i finally shut my bedroom door behind me. all at once my tears flowed out, the dark cloud above my head had once again stormed on me, leaving me soaked to the core. i dragged myself to my bed, not bothering to change out of the clothes i’d wore that night. i felt hopeless as sobs ran through my body, shaking every part of me. my room was miserable and cold, and the only sound piercing the silence was my occasional cries i couldn’t keep quiet. 

i cried for me, i cried for my future kids, i cried for calum.

calum

. i wanted to tell him, i wanted to hear his voice and i wanted him to tell me it was going to be ok, but it wasn’t and not even he could change that. but i longed to feel him, and the brightness he elicited by only giving me a look. my heart ached as i fell asleep, my future dragging me closer and closer.

a/n: ok drama lmk what ya think even if its me being stupid and spelling something wrong but feedback is appreciated! thank u for reading!! part 4 should be up tomorrow or in the next couple of days. ALSO im gonna fosho gonna write more after this is done so if you have an requests pls message me i would love 2 write what yall want ok goodbye love u 

tags: (lmk if u wanna be added for part 4/any other shit i write) @rexorangecouny

[emandme]

Let them die

Did you channel your inner Ken Watanabe from the Godzilla movie saying “Let them fight”, while you read this title? No? K. 

That is the only relative humor you will find in this post because it goes pretty down hill from here. What was that? Already downhill you say? I’ll see you when I see you.

This blog post is about the futility of CPR. Most people who are reading this know by now that I am a proponent of CPR and resuscitation science. I’ve spent almost the entirety of my teaching career advancing Life support skills, and implementing this knowledge on patients on an everyday basis. Over these three years in emergency medicine, I’ve seen seen things that I cannot unsee and this has, on occasion, made me hyper vigilant in resuscitation scenarios. Multiple studies have shown that such behavior is akin to PTSD in soldiers returning from war and that brings us to the point of this article - the flip side of CPR. 

The idea for this blog post came to me on a sunny sunday afternoon shift.  A hypothetical 65 year old was brought into the emergency by bystanders in an unresponsive state. Collapsed on the sidewalk some 20 minutes ago. With no one accompanying him. Bystanders thought it would be wise to just shift him to the hospital in an auto rather than wait for 108, rightfully so. One look at the patient and we knew he was dead. Long gone. No brainstem reflxes, cold and cyanosed - this was a classic brought dead scenario. The first person I broke the news to was the bother in law who had arrived before anyone else. He took the news in, processed it while I sat next to him and looked up to me and said “My sister will not take this well”. I break bad news on a daily basis. I follow set guidelines while I’m breaking the news and I’ve even given a talk about how to do it, empathetically. But I was not ready for what was about to unfold over the next 90 minutes. The dead patients wife was brought in to the room we have for privacy and she was already crying and wailing as to what had happened to her husband. She still doesn’t know he’s dead. She did not give me a chance to speak and as I was trying to calm her and  start explaining her what is happening,  her brother barks out - He’s no more. In a flash, her hands were on my collar and she was at my face yelling -  You cannot do this to me. It took her sometime to let go of me, but she still didn’t accept the news. I was stuck in the first stage of the  5 stages of grief with her, in that room, for the next 90 minutes. 

There’s no denying that this was the worst moment of her entire life. It was my duty to stand by her and make sure she comes to terms with this hard fact, stay until she accepts it. India still doesn’t have social workers or grief counselors to handle the emotional needs of our patients and that job is being taken care of by untrained and under prepared Emergency Physicians and Intensivists who basically just wing it, in whatever they know best. I did not mind any part of her out burst or emotional response. I do not blame her for it , nor do I wish it was some one else in my place. This was the most dramatic response I’ve encountered in all my experience of dealing with bad news and emotional family members. But that is not what led to this post. When we later sat down as a team to debrief this particular event, a suggestion came up that may be we should have attempted CPR on this dead man for the sake of the family, for their satisfaction, and that ladies and gentlemen, brings us to where you are now. Too long of a back story? No. You, as doctors, are bound to face this choice and how you chose will reflect how righteous you are. 

Do you perform CPR on a patient who you know is dead? Do you perform CPR on someone who has been unresponsive and pulseless for more than 5 minutes? Who is already cold and without brainstem reflexes?

To answer this question, you need to understand what the ‘successful’ revival of a patient actually means, or to put it in medical terms - what does ROSC (Return of spontaneous circulation) entail and is getting a pulse back always a good thing?

CPR and advanced resuscitation is not some magic trick that brings patients back from the dead. So lets first understand what Cardiopulmonary resuscitation does to the body. A cardiac arrest is a sudden event, an instantaneous collapse, like falling over the edge of a cliff, and these are the patients in whom CPR can make a difference. When a patient has a cardiac arrest, his or her heart has essentially stopped pumping blood and the most vital organ of them all, the brain, stops receiving blood. The Brain is extremely sensitive to this lack of circulating oxygenated blood and all it takes is one minute of absence of blood supply for the onset of permanent Hypoxic Ischemic  Encephelopathy, or in lay man terms, brain death.  When we resuscitate a patient, what we’re essentially trying to do is making sure that the brain receives blood supply, by pumping the stopped heart from outside, by chest compressions, while we’re simultaneously trying to figure out  which one of the ten reversible causes has caused this sudden cardiac arrest and injecting drugs like Epinephrine which are hypothesized to “restart” the hearts contraction. Go on, read this paragraph again if you need to. Resuscitation is making sure the brain receives oxygenated blood while you’re figuring out how to restart the heart so it can beat on its own, or - ROSC! Makes sense? 

But what if the patient’s brain is already a goner - what we in Emergency medicine call “Down time”. Remember, all it takes is a minute of lack of blood to cause permanent brain death. So lets say a patient with about 15 minutes of down time is brought to the emergency room. You checked for response, no response, you checked for pulse and breathing - nope  and you went all out on him - started CPR, intubated him, went at him like there was no tomorrow. Gave him shot after shot of Epinephrine and then out of nowhere, you start feeling a pulse. Great! You got a pulse. Thats ROSC!  Do you think your resuscitation is a successful one? The answer is no. Not by any means. Success is measured by how disabled this patient is going to be. 15 minutes of down time and brain is already scrambled eggs. What you basically did was bring back someone who is going to be in a vegetative state for the rest of his or her mortal life. Why did the heart restart though? that’s what chest compressions and epinephrine can do.They force the autonomous cardiac myocytes to start contracting again. But what’s the point without any brain to function? That- Brain function or neurological response -  is the sole measure of success of resuscitation and that brings us to the flip side of resuscitation - Letting them Die.

That was about Down time. This piece is incomplete if I don’t talk about the very sick and the very old. A very damning article published in the Irish times started off like this -  “Stop the barbaric practice of using CPR on the very old”. This article tries to reason the difference between sudden cardiac arrest and natural death.  The processes in ordinary dying are quite different from cardiac arrest. Like I explained earlier  A cardiac arrest is an instantaneous collapse, like falling over the edge of a cliff. In ordinary dying, usually now after a long life, from “not cardiac arrest”, there is prior deterioration over months, days, hours, minutes and seconds until finally the heart stops.  Imagine for a moment the fragile body of a woman in her 90s, who has a multiplicity of chronic diseases, including dementia, after it has been subject to vigorous and unsuccessful CPR. Rib bones will have been crunched, soft tissue bruised and teeth broken.

Do you remember your oath? To do no harm. The onus is on you to ensure that the treatment is not worse than the medical condition you are trying to treat. No one knows better than doctors that death is a very real entity. It hounds every one of our patients and it is time we start recognizing when it is time. 

Doctors are not cowboys. Do not swing your fancy Endotracheal tubes and bougies and resuscitation knowledge on unsuspecting families. Yes, they will beg and plead and bargain with you to try, but it is your imperative to stand your ground, to let them die. 

[srona58]

Mommy?

Don't hate me.  A sad, short one shot I thought of after seeing Ant Man ATW a while back.  I sincerely hope Tony's fine in A4...but this is set after they finish the war with Thanos.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Marvel or Iron Man.

DO NOT COPY OR STEAL please!!! This is my work and is on FF.net, AO3, and Wattpad under @SRona58

.

.

"Play it again, Friday..." Pepper's voice rasped, raw and tortured after the Avengers finally defeated Thanos and brought universe back to order...though at a cost.

Of course, Miss Potts," the AI responded, rather sadly...either because it was nearly the hundredth time playing the same video, or because she felt the same - if she could feel.

Tony's voice spoke over the audio display on the desktop in their home office, the one she used regularly at the compound since the war between Tony and Steve began.  It had probably been about an hour since she had shut herself in the room, but she needed it...today of all days, she desperately needed this.

"Day eleven, test 37, configuration 2.0," Stark read off, his longer hair falling in his face as he readied the few shells of armor that he had started with so long ago...about fifteen years ago, in fact.  "For lack of a better option, Dummy is still on fire safety.  If you douse me again, and I'm not on fire, I'm donating you to a city college."

Pepper smiled faintly as he repeated that very familiar line, but her eyes still held that now familiar longing.

"All right, nice and easy," Stark went on, taking a flight stance.  "Seriously, just gonna start off with one percent thrust capacity.  And three, two, one..."

"Pause," Pepper managed, and the AI stopped it before she could watch him wreck himself into the ceiling.

Yeah, he was fine.  She knew he'd be fine.  But not after what her eyes had witnessed just a few days prior.  Not now.

"Play it again," she whispered next, reaching out to trace the screen over his paused face before the AI rewound it and started from the beginning.

 "Day eleven, test 37, configuration 2.0.  For lack of a better option, Dummy is still on fire safety."

Pepper closed her eyes tightly, listening to the sound of his voice as she clutched onto the necklace she was wearing with one hand; the one he had given her, made from the shrapnel that once surrounded his heart.  To the raspy deepness that radiated from him.  The voice she heard on TV, on the phone, in her ear most nights and mornings after they started sharing a bed.  The voice she took for granted and thought nothing of until it was gone.

"If you douse me again, and I'm not on fire, I'm donating you to a city college."

Her mouth spoke the words as Tony did on the video feed, knowing it by heart now.  She smiled lightly through her broken heart and an escaped tear from her red eyes as she tried to put herself back into her shoes fifteen years ago.  Hell, just back three or four days ago, even.

Until she was met with thumping feet and a small human appeared in the doorway, wandering toward her in front of Happy, who trailed not far behind.

"Mommy?" the small child questioned as she made her way toward the desk.

Happy frowned from the door frame when Pepper frantically instructed Friday to stop the feed and mute, tapping the screen of the desktop hurriedly as she tried to hide the windows and inconspicuously wipe the tear from her cheek at the same time.

"I'm sorry, Pep," Happy spoke softly, earning a nod from the red head as she swiveled in her chair to turn toward the child, who was now tugging at the bottom of her black dress.  "I tried to get her to stay with Rhodey, but-"

"It's okay," she managed, reaching down to run her hand through the girl's soft, dark hair...too familiar for comfort.  "Hey, baby..."

"Mommy, where's daddy?" the five year old girl asked, her dark eyes looking up.

Pepper's heart tore again, as it had been for a while, when their familiar chocolate color burned into her own with that same, needing look her father had always given her.  Biting her lip to fight back the rest of the water in her eyes, she smoothed down the child's hair again for comfort and swallowed down what she could of her emotions.

"He's on a mission, sweetheart..." she lied.  "A very, very important mission."

"Is he coming back soon?" she asked innocently, making matters worse.  "He promised to teach me how to read that book about Captain America."

Leaning down, Pepper planted a kiss on top of her head and lingered for a moment, holding onto that small picture in her mind.

"How about uncle Rhodey teaches you for now. What do ya say?"

The girl hesitated, then finally nodded slowly.  "Okay..." she murmured, thinking.  "Then I'll surprise daddy and read it to him!"

Pepper's eyes closed, desperately trying to stay strong for her daughter...their daughter.  "He'll be so surprised," she whispered, barely audible.

And then she was standing, ushering the small girl out before her heels, which clicked on the floor.  Passing the TV in the corner of the room, she noticed the headline: Memorial service held for Tony Stark yesterday in preparation for private ceremony this afternoon.

"Off," Pepper instructed, suddenly more angry than upset, and Friday responded accordingly.

When she followed the skipping little girl into the shared main halls, she flashed a silent thank you to Happy, who was giving up going to make sure Morgan didn't have to witness her break down.  Then, she met Rhodey at the glass doors, her eyes flashing down at her black heels for a moment, waiting for Happy to disappear down the hall with Morgan out of sight.

"Ready?" she heard Tony's friend ask after a second of silence, and she looked back up with watery eyes.

"How is someone ever ready for something like this?" she whispered back.  Then, "do you know where we're going?"

"Same place I used to drag him when I made him visit his parents," Rhodey confirmed.

He kicked his shoe off the ground, thinking, as Pepper tried to control herself again, waves of sadness trying to drag her down and drown her before she even got there.  But his next words were what broke her.  What broke them both, before they even set foot outside.

"You think he's with em?"

And that's when she gasped out in a sort of choke, when the tears started pouring and her face scrunched up in agony.  That's when Pepper collapsed into Rhodey's arms, gripping him for dear life.  She thought of his dorky morning giggle when he tried to claim five more minutes of sleep in her neck, the way his eyes danced when he explained the sudden idea he came up with that also involved tinkering in the shop, the smirk on the photo he set as his contact photo in her phone the day she surprised him with a random selfie of the two of them together after one of their first real dates.  And that's all she had.  Photos.  Memories.  Ghosts.  And then she was sobbing, probably ruining his suit jacket, but she didn't care.  All she wanted was Tony.  Her Tony.  Their Tony.  The Tony she never appreciated as much as she was right now.

"I miss him so much," she squeaked finally, her words muffled into his shoulder.  "God, Rhodey...bring him back, please...bring him back."

And when she started begging and he only hugged her tighter in response, unable to stay steady himself, she knew it would take a very, very long time to feel okay again.  For any of them.  And one day, Morgan would ask and she'd have to explain...but right now, she couldn't.

Right now, she had a funeral to go to.

[harry-writings]

Distracted

- The one where Y/n is left at the altar and has a hard time dealing with her emotions

Masterlist

-

Y/n has alway been good at running away from her problems.

It’s something she’s become so used to—avoiding all the feelings and emotions that could tear her down and finding her way around them.

It’s a dangerous coping mechanism and she knows it. She’s been through this cycle more times than she can remember, and each time did they end with her being so full of emotion and so torn apart from the heartbreak that she’ll spend days—weeks, even—laying in the dark and locking all of her doors to avoid the outside world.

It’s gotten so bad that there have been times she hasn’t even communicated with anybody, leaving her friends and family begging on their knees by her locked doors just to get her to open up—both mentally and physically.

And they all could have been prevented if she wasn’t so afraid of letting her feelings get to her. But she hates it—god, how she hates being in a sensitive state of mind and her heart feeling so heavy that she forgets how to breathe. So, instead of letting herself feel all of that, she does anything and everything to ignore it.

She’ll teach herself new things, keep herself occupied at night so that she doesn’t have the time to fall asleep (because it was always then her thoughts caught up with her the most), and even will go so far as avoiding the people in her life that would make her talk about it.

But this heartbreak was the worst one yet.

It’s never been this bad before. She’s never made herself numb from everything she’s left behind and basically feel completely dead inside, but that’s how she’s been feeling for the past three weeks—since she’s lost absolutely everything.

Just three weeks ago was she standing at the altar, hands held in her future husband’s and ready to say the two words that were going to change her life forever. She had spent a year and a half making sure everything was the way she always dreamed it would be—wedding dress tight and complimenting, flowers arranged in perfect combinations, and all of their closest friends and family joined together to celebrate their love and devotion for one another.

But her dreams soon became her biggest nightmare.

When the priest asked if he promised to be her husband for the rest of his life, everything started to fall apart. She could see the way his eyes held uncertainty and the way his hands were twitching in hers nervously—how his mouth soon began to dry and eyes wandering for a means of an escape.

She didn’t understand it at first—how the man that asked her to be his wife was doubting their marriage. She didn’t understand how just two nights prior they were making love on their bed, whispering how much he couldn’t wait to finally make her his and start a family together, but was now trying to run away from it all.

What made it even worse was realizing that his escape wasn’t the exit doors at the front of the isle, or the lawn of the church they were standing foot in—his escape was his best friend since kindergarten sitting in the front row, tears welling in her eyes at the heartbreaking sight in front of her.

Y/n had no idea that only thirty minutes before did Poppy confess her love for him, and that, by the time she was finally going to tell him how she felt for the past two years, he was already dedicated to Y/n.  

Walking away from the disaster of a wedding was the most awful, dreadful, and haunting experience she’s ever lived through—knowing that she lost the love of her life and will never be looked the same again by everyone that attended.

Her life as she knew it was gone.

When she returned to her apartment with burnt out eyes, half a heart, and numbed feelings, there was a letter left for her on the front table, topped with the wedding band that she never wanted to look at again.

She almost didn’t read it because she knew it’ll only do her more harm, but she also needed to know what he had to say about everything that happened at the wedding. If she didn’t get his side of the story, she’d end up driving herself crazy trying to figure it out.

So, with much hesitation, she grabbed the letter with shaking fingers, her heavy eyes skimming over the last words she will ever get from him.

My dearest Y/n,

I am so sorry I had to leave you in this way. My intention was never to hurt you the way that I did. Hell, I didn’t even know this was how tonight was going to end. When I awoke this morning, I felt so blessed knowing I was going to marry you—the beautiful woman who I was so lucky to have called mine for the past two years.  

But when Poppy told me she loved me before I made my way to the isle, I realized something. If I were to marry you this morning and spend the rest of my life being your husband, I would never be able to keep my friendship with Poppy.

When it came down to it, I knew that a heart was going to be broken by the end of the day, I just didn’t know whose. But when I saw both you and Poppy—both looking as beautiful as ever—in the same room for the same reason, I knew that my heart wasn’t completely in it anymore.

My love for Poppy was always so much more than platonic, I had just never realized it until she confessed it first. Everything started to make sense and fall into place when I heard her say the words I never thought I’d hear her say to me.

Y/n, you deserve all the goodness this world has to offer you. You deserve everything you’ve ever wished for, dreamed for, and hoped for. You deserve everything and anything I would have never been able to offer you if we were to be married.

Find somebody that will take care of you even when you feel like you don’t deserve it. Find somebody who will find you beautiful even when you don’t find beauty in yourself. And, please, find somebody who will make you the happiest woman you can be even if it feels impossible.

I am so, so sorry for all I’ve caused you.

I love you, Y/n—I’m just not in love with you anymore.

I wish you all the best in this world. Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me, you will always have a place in my heart.

Your dearest, Rick.

After she read the only bit of closure she had with him, she knew this was going to be the biggest fight of her life.

She felt like she was drowning in all the emotions that needed to be released, but she knew that the second she gave into her feelings, she would never be able to get out of them. If she let it all get to her, she’d never make it out.

So, instead of spending the night sulking in what was once their shared bedroom—spending the night intoxicated, heartbroken, and sobbing over her forever loneliness—she burnt the letter to ashes and vowed herself to never love again.

-

Harry’s always liked Y/n.

From the day she moved in with Rick, he always had a sparkle in his eye for her. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, which was absolute crap for him because it was very clear she had a boyfriend and very clearly taken for the rest of her life.

It put him in a rut because even though he didn’t really know her, all he wanted to do was take her out for lunch and get into every detail about her. She just intrigued him so fucking much and it absolutely killed him knowing he’d never get his chance with her.

What was even worse was that he actually liked her fiancé. He was always a gentleman to everyone he was around—listening intently to people’s stories, laughing at jokes that were never really funny, and always making everyone feel special in their own way. It was quite amazing, really, which was why he could never allow himself to see Y/n more than an acquaintance.

From all he’s gathered from her warm greetings before work and the sometimes casual conversations they only ever had whenever they were both in the hallways with Rick, Y/n and Rick were nearly perfect for each other.

Of course, Harry would always have a soft spot for her, but he instantly pushed away the admirable gazes he gave her whenever she walked by and the way his heart beat fast whenever she was near.

He couldn’t let himself feel that way.

But god, fuck, did he want to.

-

Harry’s exhausted.

After picking up an extra shift at the hardware store and spending all of the previous night in his make-shift studio trying to produce his music, Harry can actually feel his body shutting down the more he tries to stay awake.

Not even coffee was able to spike his energy and he’s absolutely losing it. All he can think about is crawling to the nearest pillow and collapsing into rest, not even bothering to consider having a reasonable dinner.

He isn’t even sure how he managed to drive back to his apartment considering his drowsy state of mind. He figures he got through it from all the remaining caffeine in his system and the music he played loud enough to spark the last bits of energy he somehow had left within him. Whatever miracle it was that got him back to his apartment in one piece was all he could have ever hoped for because to finally be home felt like his biggest relief.

He doesn’t have the energy to make it to his bedroom—he barely has the energy to make it past the doorway because by the time he finally makes it to the couch, his body collapses onto the cushions he’s never wished for until tonight.

He blindly unbuckles his belt from beneath him as his face stays buried in the pillow. He doesn’t even bother taking off his shoes—or much of anything, really—as he’s already half asleep by the first flutter of his eyes.

Succumbing himself to the slumber is all he needs to feel every bit of stress that’s been holding him down for the past week to shred off his body. His body tingles from the exhaustion and the long-awaited peace and he hums from the feeling.

But it didn’t last long.

Because only about an hour into his sleep, he’s awoken by what he can only make out as screeching against the hardwood floor and banging on the other side of the wall. He grunts at the unwanted awakening, knuckles rubbing at his teary eyes and mind trying to grasp reality.

He was so deep into his sleep that he doesn’t even make out exactly where he is for a moment, completely forgetful as to why and when he fell asleep on the couch instead of his bed. But once recuperated and adjusted, he feels nothing but anger as the sounds from his neighbor still travel to the confines of his apartment.

If it were any other night, he would have waited it out while watching some Friends reruns before bed, or even catch up with some of his mates he hasn’t been able to talk to in a while. But tonight, he isn’t having it.

Without finding the decency or patience to fix his ruffled hair or buckle his pants to look socially acceptable, he wastes no time to storm out of his apartment to knock some sense into his neighbor for being so goddamn rowdy.

He knocks almost too hard on her door, not much caring about anybody else in the complex because he’s frustrated. It’s as if she planned to ruin his night even further because the one time Y/n decides to be a nascence is the one night he needs absolutely nothing but silence.

When she opens the door, she doesn’t even have any time to ask him why he stopped by before he lets out a rough grumble at her.

“What the bloody hell, Y/n? Do you know what the hour is? Are you aware people are trying to get a good sleep in?”

He doesn’t mean to be so rude but he really can’t help it. An hour of sleep wasn’t nearly as much as he needed and he can still feel the tiredness in his limbs and the heaviness in his eyes. This is the very last thing he wants to be doing and all his thoughts are running on pure selfishness.

Her eyes are wide and there’s a frown on her face, which makes Harry want to feel guilty but he knows it’s just not going to happen tonight.

She’s taken aback by his tone because she’s never seen Harry in such a state—jean belt unbuckled, eyes swollen from lack of sleep, and a hardened face from her ruckus—considering she’s only ever seen him in his well-put-together form, being nothing but a gentleman to even those he considered strangers.

To know she tampered this much with his mood makes her want to crawl out of her own skin.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I was trying to be quiet because I do know it’s such a god-awful time to be up but I couldn’t sleep and well—well I figured I’d just tire myself out by rearranging some. I didn’t know it would disturb your night so much.”

He lifts his eyebrows in question, looking down at her from where his body is leaned against her doorframe because no way in hell can his body even keep itself up in this condition.

“You didn’t think sliding a piece of furniture ten times the size of you would disturb me from my sleep? Are you mental?”

Now, she’s really starting to get uncomfortable. She’s never been the best at confrontation and since she’s been particularly sensitive over the past couple of weeks, the last thing she needs is Harry raising his voice at her.

Her lips pout as her eyes drift away from his hardened face, trying to find a way to respond to him but she knows she won’t be able to. She’s too embarrassed and worried that she’s going to have to spend a night alone in her thoughts in the apartment she wants absolutely nothing to do with anymore. The memories will eat her alive and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to handle it.

And despite how worn out he is, Harry instantly feels guilty for speaking to her so harshly the second he sees the sadness in her eyes. Because even though she did piss him off, there’s also something deep inside of him screaming to help her because ultimately, he couldn’t let her put herself through so much work without any help.

He sighs, hands rubbing against his face as he silently curses himself for letting him be so considerate in this situation. He should just slam the door in her face and go back to sleep without looking back, but he knows he can’t do that.

“Look,” he grumbles. "I’ll help you with whatever it is you’re trying to do if it gets you to keep it down until at least tomorrow afternoon. Like, really keep it down. Tomorrow is my only day off this week and I need every minute of silence as I can get."

Y/n’s mouth is agape for a moment before she fully processes his offer, making her nod her head a little too quickly because ultimately, she doesn’t know what Harry would do if she went against his word and she really needs to get this work done.

“Y—Yes, please. That would be wonderful and I promise I won’t disturb you any longer. Especially after doing this for me I—I promise to never keep you up anymore.”

Harry isn’t entirely sure why she’s so nervous but he doesn’t ask any questions. Instead, he softly shoves her out of his way so that he can make his way into her living room to get it all over with.

They don’t speak a word to each other once they start to carefully lift and slide the bottom of the bookshelf, too busy trying to catch their breaths under all the work they’re putting in to even consider using their energy for much more.

Y/n gives out first, grunting quietly before letting her side fall to the floor with a thud.

“Why are you doing this, anyways?” Harry asks while wiping his forehead, small groans leaving his mouth as he pushes the side of the bookshelf closer to the wall. “Especially now? Like, what’s the point in this?"

Y/n is trying to catch her breath as she leans her back against the wall, her arms sprawled out over her knees as she tries moves her gaze away from him. This is the first time in a month she’s encountered a conversation that had to do with the wedding and she absolutely was not in the mood to become apart of one now.

“Hm?” She hums.

She’s playing dumb and she knows it, solely for the fact that she doesn’t know a way to lie around her answer. She can’t find it in her heart to open up about any of it and surely doesn’t want to get any more of Harry’s attitude if she were to keep him much longer.

“The whole redecorating thing? I haven’t seen you doing this much work since you and Rick moved in. Looking drained out by the minute.”

It’s true. Harry has known Y/n for years but not once has he seen her so hectic. Usually, he’d see her in the hallway, looking refreshed and lighthearted on every occasion. It was one of the many things that he found so attractive about her—how she was able to radiate her feelings to those around her.

But over the past month, he’s noticed just how much has changed in her. His once quiet neighbor is now staying up all night, looking rushed on every encounter he’s had with her, and her usual glow is now replaced by dark, sunken eyes and chapped lips.

And if he really thinks about it, she looks much more exhausted than he is.

Her cheeks flush as she continues to look away from him, already dreading where the conversation is heading because she really can’t find it in herself to talk about it—especially to somebody she’s only ever known in passing.

“I just, um—well, I figured the apartment needed something more. I’ve been living with the same layouts and colors for years now and I’m getting bored of it all. I thought a change would be nice for once.”

Harry nods softly, running a hand through his hair. “And your fiancé? He can’t conveniently come into your living room at three in the morning to save you from moving a bookshelf all by yourself?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Her heart starts to beat rapidly and she can feel her breath getting hitched in her throat at the mention of him. But instead of showing the panic rising within her, she covers it with a breathy laugh and a god awful, awkward smile that she hopes Harry won’t comment on.

“Not necessarily.”

She bites her bottom lip and picks at her fingernails, praying that her short answers will be enough to drop the topic for the rest of the night.

But Harry doesn’t take the hint what-so-ever. If anything, it makes him question where Rick is to begin with. He’s always been around—out and about with some mates or Y/n, very rarely taking time out of town because his entire life was here.

The only time he’d ever take it upon himself to leave was for business trips with his colleagues, going to the states, mostly, to advertise across the seas. Harry genuinely loved hearing about his trips because, as someone who hasn’t stepped foot out of this town, it’s the only way he can imagine being outside of it.

“Haven’t seen him around lately. On one of those business trips again?”

Y/n purses her lips tight, knuckles gripping tighter against her hand and throat tightening at the thought of forming words.

“Yeah.” She answers in a shaking tone. “Busy guy.”

Before Harry can respond, Y/n lifts herself off the ground, wiping her sweaty hands against her sweatpants and rolling her ankles around.

“You should, uh—you should probably head out. It’s getting really late and I’ve already kept you here long enough. Thanks for the help, though. I’ll, uh—I’ll see you around.”

She nods her head, pausing for a moment as she contemplates whether or not she should make up some shitty excuse as to why she needs to be alone right now. But as she decides against it, she swallows harshly before scurrying her way to her bedroom, leaving Harry on the floor in her living room completely and utterly confused.

-

Y/n didn’t fall asleep once Harry left.

She tried, but every time she attempted to close her eyes all she saw was Rick running away from her to the arms of his best friend and Harry’s absolute disgruntled look from her disturbance. There was absolutely no way she was going to fall asleep feeling so crappy so instead of trying to force her slumber, she decided to occupy herself with the one thing that could calm her down.

She put on an episode of her favorite television show as a form of background noise as she started to wash her dishes, preparing for all the baking she planned on doing because it always brought her happiness.

Growing up, she baked cookies on the holidays with her parents and was always the one designated to bring desserts for special occasions. The sweet, warming smell that always comforted her and soon became a hobby she initiated whenever she was so down.

She baked two batches of brownies for Harry as a way to apologize and a mix of cookies and creme puffs to munch on for the next couple weeks. They took a while, too, because by the time everything was finished and packed in containers, the sun was very well risen into mid-morning.

And when the clock hits 2:30 in the afternoon, Y/n knocks gently on Harry’s door, silently praying that he isn’t still asleep because she’d feel even worse if she woke him up twice in the same day. And when she doesn’t get any response for nearly twenty seconds, she curses herself for thinking he’d open the door for her after how pissed he probably was at her.

But once she takes a step back, she sees Harry leaning against his doorframe, shirtless with sweatpants hanging from his waist, looking much better than he had last night and just as soft as she always remembered him being.

“Hi, Harry.” Y/n smiles softly. “I felt really bad about last night, so as both an apology and a thank you, I made you some brownies. I made one batch with nuts and the other without nuts because I wasn’t sure which you preferred.”

Harry’s heart swells and he can’t help but smile as he looks down at the baked goods. Knowing that she went out of her way for him despite how he treated her makes his stomach flutter, and he isn’t even sure he’s ever felt something like it before.

She just looks so innocent with her doe eyes and lip between her teeth, clearly nervous of his reaction considering the circumstances. Although Harry’s noticed it before, he can’t help but to think how utterly gorgeous Y/n is looking right now. Everything she does is just so effortless—effortless in a sense that everything is from the kindness of her heart and not even thought twice about, and just how warm and happy she looks standing in his doorway even though she clearly hasn’t gotten any sleep.

He can feel his face heat up and his palms start to sweat as he grabs the containers from her hands, fond eyes looking down at the baked goods she spent so much time on.

“Thank you, Y/n.” He whispers, the smile still lingering and cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

He looks up at her softly, his teeth grazing his inner cheek and hand opening the door wider.

“Why don’t you come in. I feel really bad about last night, as well. I have some coffee and leftover pancakes I whipped up earlier, I’d love to make it up to you? You know, for being a jerk and all?”

And no matter how much she wants to decline his offer because she doesn’t want to risk bothering him any further, she accepts it anyways. Because honestly, she hasn’t seen much of anybody since the breakup. She’s been ignoring her friends, family, and anybody that had to do with that stupid wedding. They’ll just remind her of everything she just wants to forget and make her talk about everything she doesn’t want to talk about.

Not only that, but she feels humiliated nearly every day. She’s considered herself a fool ever since—she'd been stood up by her fiancé in front of everyone. She can only imagine how she looked to those that attended, so even just looking in the mirror makes her feel sick to her stomach.

So Harry offering her to hang out is an offer she needs to take up. She needs to learn how to interact with people without letting the past get in her way. And besides, she had nothing planned after delivering the brownies anyways so being with him ensured that she won’t have the spend the rest of the day sulking.

With a soft smile, Harry guides her over to his kitchen table and along the way, Y/n notices how his apartment is exactly how she imagined it. It’s cozy with warm colors and the smell of vanilla, pictures of him and his family hung on nearly every wall. And as strange as it seems, it perfectly reflects who Harry is as a person.

She’s so preoccupied by observing all that’s around her that she doesn’t notice that Harry’s pulled out a kitchen chair for her.

“Make yourself at home.”

She nods with a small mutter of appreciation, occupying the seat that was just previously empty and watching as Harry scrambles around his kitchen—grabbing all the necessary materials for whatever he planned on making her.

And as she observes his movements, Y/n can’t help but to frown at never making a friendship with him previously. He was always such a sweet guy, making sure to always greet her with the most heartwarming smile and gift her cards during the Holidays. Even though they didn’t know each other personally, he was always there to remind her she was thought about by him.

But she never offered him to come over for coffee when she knew she should have, or offer to take him out to lunch for his birthdays, even when he deserved all of that from her.

"How do you like your coffee? Oh, and I made blueberry pancakes if that’s alright with you.”

His back remains to her as he turns on the coffee machine. She chuckles with a small shake of her head, making herself comfortable against the kitchen table with a small blush on her cheeks.

“Blueberry pancakes are lovely, thank you. And light and sweet, please.”

Harry can’t help but think that she would be the type of woman to like her coffee light and sweet.

With a small smirk playing on his lips and an amused glare in his eyes, he looks over his shoulder at her to make a remark about it. But his entire mood changes when he notices how her eyes keep fluttering, as if struggling to stay open and it makes his brows furrow with worry. It’s evident she hasn’t been taking complete care of herself—between her pale complexion, nervous fidgeting, and her dull, sunken eyes, there’s clearly something that’s draining her out.

And in any other circumstance, he would have pushed her to tell him what the hell has gotten her like this, but they had only just started talking yesterday and it wasn’t even on a good start. Besides, she doesn’t seem like she wants him to know how bad she’s been considering all she does is smile and continue being her usual self despite her broken down exterior.

So instead of asking her what’s wrong and risking making her uncomfortable, he settles for a much less straightforward question.

“Rough night after I left?”

Y/n readjusts in her seat, blinking her eyes to keep herself awake. She didn’t even realize she was drifting off until the sudden boom of his voice (which wasn’t even loud, but loud enough to slightly alarm her) and the gargling of the coffee machine.

She rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands, a small yawn falling from her lips as a stutter clatters between her teeth.

“I just, uh—just got a bit busy with some stuff. You know, redecorating and feeling bad about keeping you up. I uh—also had some work to do for my job and all that.”

Alright, she thinks to herself, not bad for an impulsive lie.

But it doesn’t convince him in the slightest. He may not know Y/n well—if at all—but he knows that there was no honesty as she spoke. He can tell by the stiffness in her shoulders and her constant fidgeting that she’s hiding something, which makes his chest tighten and lips pout out. She clearly hasn’t been taking care of herself and he wants nothing more than to get her to open up to him so that he can fix whatever has gotten her so down.

And it’s not even because it’s Y/n that he’s so concerned, he’d be concerned for anybody who looked the way she did. He wonders if she’s even aware of how awful it’s gotten over the past month.

With a soft frown on his face and sorrow in his eyes, Harry shakes his head softly as he places her coffee down on the table, watching as she wastes no time before sipping on the caffeine.

“Why don’t you stay over and watch a movie for a bit? I never really have much company and would love to have someone to chat with for a while.”

And even though the explanation for her invitation isn’t exactly a lie, it’s more as an excuse as to why he’s really inviting her to stay.

He wants to make sure she gets proper sleep, and this is the only way for him to assure she gets it.

She’s taken aback at first considering he’s already done so much by inviting her into his home and making her lunch, all the while she’s falling asleep at his kitchen table baring keeping up in conversation. And she really shouldn’t stay here much longer because she’d feel more than rude to fall asleep in his house without asking, but he just looks so generous and desperate to have her stay—especially in the way his eyes are practically insisting her to accompany him.

So, really, how could she say no? Especially when she hasn’t had the chance to relax in what feels like forever?

She smiles softly with a small nod of her head, humming as her way of an agreement because she really doesn’t know if she has the energy to put much more effort in her response.

After sipping away on her coffee and finishing the three pancakes Harry reheated for her (she forgot to eat throughout the night), she curls herself against the armrest of his couch, lifting her legs so that they’re slightly bent but still allowing her to lay down. Harry is only a couple inches away from her, his arm lifted on the top of the cushions and feet upon the coffee table in front of them.

They make small talk once the movie starts, asking one another about their jobs and interests. It doesn’t go too much into depth, though, because within the first thirty minutes of the movie, Y/n is fast asleep beside him. With her head on the pillow upon the armrest and her feet hidden between the cushions beside him, his heart feels utterly relieved that she’s finally catching up on her rest.

So, without making too much noise, Harry lifts himself off his couch, retrieving a blanket from the shelf beneath the coffee table and placing it gently on top of her.

He has to force himself to not run his fingers through her hair before he walks back to his bedroom.

-

Going out to a bar this soon after the breakup was probably a really bad idea, but it was also the only time the opportunity arose.

When Harry invited her to a night out at the local bar after one of his longest weeks, Y/n figured she couldn’t stay cooped up in her apartment forever. And honestly, she was shocked to feel excited about spending a night out after being alone for so long.

He’s the only friend of hers who wasn’t at the wedding to witness the crisis, so it was easy for her to not feel pressured to talk about anything whenever he was around. If anything, she feels relieved that she can finally spend time with someone and not feel like he’s only with her out of obligation.

So here she is, a little over a month after the wedding, just finishing up her second drink as Harry finds amusement in her buzz.

She’s much more confident in herself with the slight intoxication—never second guessing herself in her words or even doing that nervous stutter whenever she’s uncomfortable. This is genuinely the happiest he’s seen her recently and he’s glad she’s finally cutting loose.

“This is utter shit.” Y/n giggles, wincing at the sharp alcohol as it stings her tongue after Harry insisted on her trying his whiskey.

“Yeah, it’s tough.” Harry chuckles. "I normally settle for something much lighter but because it’s been a while since I’ve treated myself to a good drink, I’m getting the strongest thing I can handle before we have to walk back.”

Upon that, they start talking about the hardware store Harry currently works in and how his boss treats him like hell. It’s always why Harry gets stuck with the double shifts and why he keeps getting ripped off.

And that’s exactly why he wanted to drink his problems away tonight. After his boss paid him less than usual even after the overtime hours, he really couldn’t fucking take it anymore—especially since it’s been taking time away from his music.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Y/n puts her hand up, mouth agape and eyes wide as he finishes explaining his dilemma. “You sing?! Like, actually?! Why haven’t I ever heard you?!”

She slaps his arm teasingly, a joking scowl on her face as if appalled for not telling her sooner.

He lets out a nervous chuckle as his hand rubs at the back of his neck, particularly uncomfortable with the topic because he hates that kind of attention on himself. Talking about the nightmare job is easy, but talking about the dream job that has a very small probability of achievement—especially one that consists of him in the spotlight—is intimidating.

“Yeah, actually. Ever since I was little I’ve always had dreams of working up a crowd. I would perform for my elementary school, even was the lead singer of a high school band for a bit. I’ve always been into the whole singing thing for really as long as I can remember. It’s just a little difficult to start it up on your own.”

And it could be the alcohol swirling in her veins and the way her mind is operating much faster than usual, but she marvels at the idea of Harry singing.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes just how soothing it is to hear Harry speak. His words are soft, slow, and very articulate. He has a sincerity in his voice she’s never heard in anybody else and it makes her skin tingle.

She can only imagine how good he’d be at singing—turning his stories into songs and hearing such passion and fire behind the lyrics. She can just imagine the way his lips would move around each word and his face all scrunched up from the notes.

Hell, she bets he’s so goddamn good at it and now, she wants nothing more than to take Harry to a private area and have him sing to her. Better yet, she wants to take Harry back to her apartment and have him sing her to sleep so that she doesn’t have to listen to her thoughts anymore.

She didn’t realize that she was so infatuated by him that she has been starring, which thankfully went unnoticed because she’d never be able to dig herself out of that hole. So, she shakes her head to somehow snap herself out of her trance, squeezing her eyes shut for everything thinking that way about him.

She changes the topic of conversation quickly, now asking more about his family life and friend life and if he’s been with his family recently.

And Y/n seemed to be doing fine whilst drinking—talking to Harry about nearly everything and anything they can, considering they never had the chance to talk like this for the past week or so. But by the fourth drink, Y/n is already far gone. He figured she was a lightweight but never expected her to be like this after only a couple drinks—nonstop giggling at absolutely nothing and hiccuping in between her words.

It’s entertaining as hell and Harry would love to see this go farther, but he also knows that if she keeps going at it the way she has been the past forty-five minutes, she’d be a disaster waiting to happen and he can’t let her get any worse.

And it was when Y/n was laughing so hard at one of Harry’s joke—one that he didn’t even find funny himself—that she nearly fell off of the bar stool, gripping onto Harry’s shoulder for support that it was time for them to head back before she completely loses herself.

“Woah, there!” Harry laughs, his hands instantly reaching out to catch her stumbling body, "I think it’s about time we get you back home, yeah? Can’t let you get any worse than this.”

She whines, exaggerating the pout of her bottom lip while stomping her feet like a little girl being denied attention. “But I want to stay! Haven’t—“ She hiccups, “haven’t left my apartment in nearly a month, ya know? You've probably noticed, too! Need to treat myself out!”

Harry isn’t even listening and she knows it because he’s already taken her now fifth drink away from her hand, sliding it across the bar and working his hands on her so that he can properly lift her off the bar stool.

“You’re absolutely right, I have noticed.” He nods his head, “But I’ve also noticed that you’re already proper drunk and if I let you drink any more than you already have, you’d be very hungover tomorrow morning and that’s the last thing you need right now."

Harry has his hands around her the whole way home, solely for the fact that she’s stumbling with each step she takes and swaying whenever they have to stop to cross the street.

And honestly, Y/n is glad it’s Harry that’s taking care of her like this. Alcohol usually sinks her—sucks her into her darkened thoughts and makes her relive the past she wanted nothing but to desperately forget. But being with him while being this intoxicated, she’s actually enjoying herself for the first time and actually feels safe walking under this condition.

By the time they reach their apartment complex, Y/n is still laughing at whatever Harry’s saying, still unsteady, and still wiggling in his arms. It definitely gives people in the lobby a good laugh seeing her so disorderly.

He’s partially carrying her by the time they reach her front door, Y/n fumbling with the key and dropping nearly everything out of her purse in the process. She’s a giggling, hiccuping, and yawning mess and Harry has absolutely no idea how she got so drunk so fast. It’ll make for a great story in the future, that’s for sure.

By the time Y/n finally is able to unlock her door, Harry walks steadily to the living room and places her down carefully on the couch. He makes sure to take off her shoes and tuck her under the blanket that’s folded nicely over the armrest. He noticed how the television has been kept on since she left, to which he leaves it on in case she wants it before sleep.

She makes herself comfortable upon the couch, only readjusting slightly before her body molds into the cushions.

“Have any advil for your head tomorrow morning? I’ll set it up for you so that you don’t have to go through all the trouble.”

She hums softly, eyes fluttering shut and heart swelling at how much he’s been taking care of her.

“Kitchen cabinet above the sink.”

She feels terrible that he’s spending the night taking care of her when the whole point of going out for drinks was to forget about any responsibility. She shouldn’t have trusted herself around alcohol to begin with, but she didn’t want to spend another goddamn second alone in the apartment that constantly reminded her of how damaged she is.

But as strange as it seems, it doesn’t even look like he minds taking care of her. He seems to be enjoying watching her all intoxicated and dysfunctional, even if it means he has to be the one to make sure she’s kept together.

She’ll apologize tomorrow for it, anyways.

He returns to the living room with two advils, a bottle of water, and a sandwich wrapped in a plastic bag; setting everything down on the table beside the couch so that she can have everything she needs for tomorrow morning.

“I brought you what you’ll need for tomorrow if you happen to get hungover. You might not but it’s better to be safe than sorry. I would have given you orange juice instead of water but I couldn’t find it in your refrigerator.”

She smiles softly against her pillow, eyes still closed contently. “I hate orange juice."

He raises his eyebrows, a small smirk playing on his face as he looks down at her.

“Yeah? You seem to have a lot or clementines for someone who hates orange juice.” He chuckles, reaching down to rid some of the smudged makeup from her cheek.

She yawns, shrugging from underneath the blankets.

“I’m still trying to figure that out, too. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

He notices that his fingers have lingered too long on her cheek, instantly pulling away from the warm skin and refraining himself by resting his hand against his thigh, coughing awkwardly.

“I’m going to go back to my apartment, alright? If you need anything, just knock on my door. Have a good night, Y/n.”

But before he can go anywhere, Y/n reaches out to grab onto his hand without much thought, eyes glowing from the television light as she looks up at him intently with a shadow of desperation in her eyes.

“Can I ask you something?"

Harry looks down at his hand, eyes nearly bulging out of his head but doing absolutely nothing about it—neither pulling away or reaching for her hand any more.

He nods softly.

“Can you—can you stay here until I fall asleep?”

She knows that what she’s asking for is so fucking stupid and wrong, but ever since she slept so peacefully with his presence, she genuinely believes the only way she can sleep properly again is if he accompanies her.

And she can tell by the look on his face that this was completely unexpected, but she’s so desperate for him to stay here that she’d be willing to drop to her knees, fold her hands, and beg to tears if it meant for her to finally catch a break. He’s her only chance and she’d do anything for it.

He gulps, almost unsure of whether it was appropriate for him to overstay his welcome considering she has a fiancé not condoning her actions. But he trusts her enough to know that this isn’t anything more than Y/n just needing a friend beside her tonight.

Without saying anything, he sits himself upon her floor so that his back is against the bottom half of the couch, her hand resting on the back of his shoulder.

This normally wouldn’t make him concerned, but knowing that just a week ago she didn’t sleep until she was in his apartment makes him wonder if there’s something keeping her up at night.

He wouldn’t doubt it, really, because it makes a whole lot of sense the more he thinks about it. Instead of sleeping, she’ll occupy herself by rearranging furniture or baking batches of brownies along with her apology. She’s looking absolutely awful every time he sees her and she’s always drained of energy.

There has to be something that’s eating her alive, and the only way she can stop it from getting to her is occupying herself until she has nothing else to do.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He whispers in the dark, head tilting toward her to remind her that he’s here for her.

She shakes her head, smacking her lips now that her mouth is dried out, refusing to open her eyes because she knows the second she looks into his, she’ll surrender.

“Just talk about something—anything—please.”

And he does. He talks about his life growing up and about his love for music, to which Y/n mentally fonds over until she’s fast asleep in his warmth.

-

“Morning!” Harry announces as he opens her apartment door, kicking it shut with the side of his foot as his hands are full of paper bags. “Got some breakfast sandwiches from the deli across the street. Also got some crisps and pop for the next few hours.”

It’s been a little over a month since she first got to know Harry—spending more and more time together as the days went on. They’ve gotten so close that they haven’t gone a day without spending time with one another, always finding time to go to the bars after a particularly dreadful shift or Harry coming over to help Y/n redecorate.

She’s gotten so used to him around that Harry has become Y/n’s favorite distraction.

When she’s with him, she almost forgets about the broken heart barely beating inside of her. It seems as though the pain and the emotions that scramble within her suddenly settle and mend whenever he’s near. And as crazy as it seems, she feels the most alive in his presence.

Which is exactly why she hasn’t spent a day without him yet. She doesn’t know if she can take it.

After insisting he help her with redecorating, Y/n has found herself spending more time with him than ever. He always starts the day at 9 a.m., hot breakfast in hand and a warm smile on his face. Even when Y/n is the most grumpy (she really does hate mornings), he still manages to lift her spirits.

And it’s all so confusing, really, because the only person she’s ever been so comfortable around was Rick. But even with him, it took nearly four months to open herself up to him and confine in him the way she wanted to, so she expected that it’d take her even longer to hold so much trust in someone after all her trust was crushed in front of hundreds of people.

But no. Harry jumped right in and never looked back. He didn’t even try—it’s as if he was made to open her up and claim her trust as his own.

And she’s happy he did because god, does she need someone like him to hold her together. Even if he doesn’t know she’s so torn apart—even if he doesn’t know he’s the only person keeping her from breaking down every hour of the day—he’s the best person in her life in this very moment and she has no idea what she’d be doing without him.

And with last night being a particularly hard night—since it would have been Y/n and Rick's third year anniversary if they had stayed together—she has truly never needed him more than she does right now.

Her unblinking eyes never leave his frame as she walks almost lifeless towards him, nearly tripping over some of the materials she needed for today’s project without paying much attention.

Before Harry can question her strange behavior, her body nearly collapses against his—her arms snaking around his waist and face burying itself between his chest, and he can tell that this is so much more than a greeting.

He drops the bags from his hands without much thought, instantly reaching to console her. Her body softly shakes against his and he frowns at the feeling, his hands rubbing up and down her back as a way to comfort her.

But she’s not allowing herself to break down. If anything, seeking comfort him Harry was more of a coping mechanism. She feels better whenever he’s there for her and that’s all she really needs this morning—to fight all the built up feelings and not let herself sink in her dangerous thoughts.

Her eyes are now dry of the tears that were just daring to escape and her heart is now thawed from how cold it’s become, just by a single touch of Harry. And instead of taking this chance to tell him all about her stupid, shitty life and vent to him about how awful she’s been feeling, she does what she always does—pushing it all away for the sake of spending a good time with him.

But Harry genuinely feels sick when he thinks back at the look on her face when he arrived—how hopeless and lifeless she looked. It was god awful and he doesn’t even know if he wants to let her go in fear of ever seeing her look so horrible again.

But when she’s the one that pulls back, his nausea diminishes to pure and utter confusion as he takes a second glance at her.

She’s—she’s fine again. Sure, the bags under her eyes are still evident and her lips are still chapped from being gnawed on, but she looks nothing like she did not just three minutes ago. She’s beaming and her eyes are glowing with excitement rather than sorrow and he has no idea what the fuck is happening.

“Good morning, Harry! Did you get me sausage or bacon? I hope you didn’t get bacon because I hate it so much and—“

She pauses when she notices the shaking of his head and the furrow of worry between his brows, jaw clenched and lips pursed tight in what she can only make out as frustration.

“Har—“

“What the hell is going on, Y/n? What the fuck is happening right now?”

He’s speaking more to himself than to her, rather muttering the words than speaking them at her. He seems so lost and confused and she hopes it’s not because he noticed her sudden change of behavior. She’d have no idea how to explain herself since she’s avoided explaining herself to him for the past month.

He grits his teeth, face scrunching from aggravation as his hands tug at the roots of his hair.

“Look, I know we’ve been hanging out nearly every day for the past couple of weeks, and because I’ve gotten to know you a bit better I really need to know if—“ He sighs, “Are you okay, Y/n? Like, is anything going on with you that you need to talk about? Because every time I see you it looks like you’re about to fucking crack but you keep hiding it and I just—I need you to talk to me, Y/n. Please.”

He’s even angrier now because instead of giving him her undivided attention, she’s picking up the bags from the floor, almost disregarding everything he’s telling her as she grabs her sandwich from the inside.

She wants to answer him but she knows she can’t, she’s already feeling uncomfortable by everything happening and she’s not at all ready to come to terms with what happened yet. Especially on this day, where she’s most sensitive because it only reminds her of everything that could have been

“I’m fine, Harry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugs, shoving a bite of the sandwich in her mouth to refrain herself from saying anymore and covering the worried look on her face.

He’s not having it, though.

He takes a step closer to her, a determined look on his face but his eyes plea for her to trust him.

It’s not even about trust—she trusts him more than anybody, it’s herself she has a problem with and she wants nothing more than for him to understand that she’s hiding everything for a reason, whether he wants to believe it or not

“Please, Y/n. I need to know what’s happening with you.”

The quivering in his voice is enough to resurface everything she’s been repressing. She would never be able to forgive herself for ever making Harry feel bad for her, or for ever making him worry so much. If she were to be responsible for his tears, she’d feel even worse than she has been and she doesn’t know if she can take it.

And with the feelings that’s been buried so deep within her suddenly making their comeback, Y/n snaps.

“Nothing is going on, Harry! Can you please stop asking me that stupid fucking question?! And even if there was something going on with me, can’t you just accept the fact that you’re the only goddamn person that can make me feel like nothing is happening?!”

His eyes fall and the anger inside of them burns to a crisp. He had no idea that he’s been playing such an active, effective role in her life and he wishes he never pushed her to talk about her problems to begin with.

She needs time, and as time goes on, she needs him to be there for her as much as he can.

He holds her against him, arms wrapped around her so tightly everything broken inside of her is falling back to their place again, a sigh of relief and contentment falling from her lips at the revived feeling.  

“Oh, Y/n," He whispers against the top of her head, “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’ll be here for you. You know that, right? That I’m always here for you no matter what?”

She does, she really didn’t have to be reassured.

-

It’s been one of her favorite nights with Harry—watching their favorite movies and keeping each other company.

It started off casually—the way it always was—with Harry and Y/n sitting next to each other, munching on some of Y/n’s baked goods and telling each other the most awful jokes they could think of.

But as the night went on, something changed.

Y/n's heart is pounding and she doesn’t know how to keep herself collected for much longer. Between the way his hand is tugging at his bottom lips as he speaks and the way he’s talking so passionately that his eyes are glowing an even brighter shade of green, every bit of her self-control is falling apart.

And she doesn’t know whether it’s because she’s been in such an emotional state for the past two months or that there is something inside of her that absolutely craves him, but whatever it is, she can’t do this to herself.

She’s fisting at the ends of her shirt and trying to regulate her breathing—doing anything and everything she can to push whatever she’s feeling away. She even stops looking at him because doing so makes it so much harder resist him.

You’re just emotional, she keeps telling herself, these feelings aren’t real—you just need affection.

“Y/n? Y/n, are you alright?”

And even the smallest touch of his fingertips against her shoulder makes her stop breathing altogether.

She looks at him reluctantly, eyes wide and lips trembling because she shouldn’t be feeling this way. The man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with left her and now she has nothing. She should be sobbing in her pillow, punching the mattress and screaming at the sky—not wanting to kiss her goddamn neighbor.

You’re just emotional, she reminds herself, you just want his affection.

But before she can convince herself any further, her hands grab feverishly at his neck, pushing his head towards hers so that their lips can meet halfway.

If what she’s doing isn’t sinful enough, she’s actually enjoying it. Hell, she’s loving it. Every part of him just feels so good and she doesn’t know how it feels so right because it’s completely and utterly wrong.

Harry lets himself fall into the kiss for only a second before he realizes what’s happening.

Y/n is kissing him. Y/n—who is engaged—is kissing him and touching him while her fiancé is on a business trip. She’s going behind his back and seeking pleasure in somebody else while he’s all alone waiting to return home.

Y/n has a life. Y/n is getting married, and Harry’s been getting in the way of that for months now, even if it was unintentional.

“Wh—what?” He pants, pushing against Y/n’s chest to detach himself from her. “Are you—are you mental?! What the hell are you doing?!”

It takes her a moment to mentally readjust before everything starts to sink in properly.

Harry still isn’t aware about what happened at the wedding. In his mind, she’s been a taken woman of three years and is supposed to be getting married and starting a family. To Harry, Y/n has always just been a friend because he wasn’t supposed to see her as anything more. Everything they just shared, to Harry, was so much more than a kiss—it was making him a homewrecker.

She stutters, not so sure as to what to say or how to say it. No matter what she decides to respond with, it’ll only make things more complicated. Because at the end of the day, there’s been so much she’s kept from him that it would probably only make things worse for herself.

Not only that, but how else is she going to explain to him that she’s catching feelings after only two months of her break up? She isn’t even sure if she genuinely likes him or if she’s just sensitive to all the attention he’s been giving her.

None of this would be happening if she had just dealt with everything that’s happened the way she should have been.

And Harry’s never been more confused in his entire life. So much happened before a blink of his eye and just thinking about it all is making him run out of breath.

“You—“ Harry inhales sharply, pulling his hair back in frustration, “you’re engaged, Y/n. Is this—is this what you’ve been doing throughout your entire relationship? Spit-swapping with your mates whenever Rick's out of the goddamn country?!”

He shouldn’t be yelling at her but he can’t help it. He’s been crushing on her since the first day she moved in but he was never able to do anything about it. And now, by everything he’s learned about her and how he believed she’s different from everyone he’s ever met, this is just proving him wrong.

Not only that, but Harry hates how he’s getting what he’s always wanted in the worst way possible. He feels as if this whole time she’s manipulated him and used him just to get a good fuck in because her fiancé can no longer satisfy her.

He feels like he’s been fooled and taken advantage of to the worst degree. Everything he has ever known about Y/n just spit in his face and kicked him to the ground.

“No wonder why you aren’t getting any sleep! Probably getting every wanker’s dick wet because you can’t handle being alone!”

He wishes he took the words back the second he spoke them.

They leave a vile taste in his mouth that he wishes he could spit out, but he can’t. At the end of the day, he knows nothing he said is true. He knows Y/n isn’t someone who sleeps around and cheats whenever her fiancé leaves town—hell, he knows that there must have been something else because she would never be disloyal to the people she holds so close.

And by the way her eyes start glossing over with unwanted tears and the way she starts to heave to push all the emotions away, he knows his words broke her just as much as they broke him.

“Y/n—“ he breathes out a dry plea, “Y/n, I didn’t—it wasn’t—“

But before he can apologize any further, she’s already half-way out the door.

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages: Chp 12

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OFC Ana Rios

Summary: Bucky Barnes agrees to participate in Deprogramming Sessions. What he gets is not anything like he expected.

Warnings: Language.(always) Panic attack. Scars. Unhealthy amounts of coffee. Mentions of past violence. 

Words: 3.5k+ @justreadingfics @nerdyandproud9 @buffy-morgendorffer-01

A/N: I have decided...that this story has a mind of it’s own and it will be a monster. Just saying... :D (gif not mine)

***

Ana decides to take three consecutive days off, informing Bucky of an upcoming mission most of the Avengers were deploying for. She explains having to prepare herself when the team arrives back, just in case they request the use of her abilities. Taking a break from grueling emotional sessions is insisted by Ana, claiming mental breaks are just as crucial. 

That mission falls on the night prior to the first day off. The Avengers come home, and Ana is gone for the majority of those three days. On the third day, Bucky finds himself with Natasha in the kitchen. He makes the mistake of inquiring about the details. With somber eyes, Natasha explains the few civilian casualties and some of the members took it harder than others. Ana has been helping them and a few agents who were in the control room listening. The former spy informs Bucky of a rouge Hydra agent was responsible for setting off several bombs in order to flush some of the Avengers out. It triggers an internal panic.

Terror constricts Bucky's chest. Sweat prickles his skin, dampens his shirt and roots of his hair. His muscles spasm in his grinding jaw. He clenches his metal hand over his right and for a wild moment, Bucky maps out the best way to escape the kitchen. It's too open, he'd be easily exposed if he runs through the patio and into the woods. The space between the house and woods is spacious enough to be gunned down. His best bet is down the narrow hallway to his room, can escape through the bathroom window. He could snatch his backpack on the way and slip out. Gone before anyone would realize it.

Bucky’s mind is frantic, broken painful memories stabbing through his brain. Flashes of a chair, machines, guns pointed at him. He is back in the controlled leash of Hydra, bidding him to do their horrific work once again. His lugs burn from the phantom scent of frozen air from the chamber. His chest squeezes like it did each time the harsh paddles of the machine pressed roughly against his face. He grips onto something solid but all he can see is his hands griping the edges of the that chair while zaps of electric current fry his brain.

Gentle hands enclose around his shaking fists. A delicate touch over his metal knuckles has him jerking it out of the grasp. The hand on his flesh one tightens, and the other is now pressed against his body. Bucky finally connects the tightness in his chest is to lack of breathing properly.

He senses the air charge and change around him. Shifting from something dark and tainted red to a lighter, brighter feeling. A muffled noise reaches his ears, but he can't make it out clearly. His head feeling like he has been submerged in water; or rather the cryostasis chamber. His mind screaming, pleading not to go back into it. Only for him to comply, keep his mouth shut otherwise he would meet the torture of the scientists.

The hand presses harder against his chest. Bucky begins to feel the warmth of the touch through his thin shirt. Can feel where the fingertips start and the palm ends. He can feel his knuckles popping from the tight grip. The air morphs around him again and suddenly through the shadows of bloody tentacles, Bucky sees golden spots. Golden splatters laced in the fibers of warm brown eyes. He mentally counts nine of them, relief of clarity washing over him.

"-eath, Bucky," He hears. "Count. Breathe. You're safe here. Feel this. Come back to me.”

Ana is directly in front of him. Her beautiful eyes wide, concerned, yet determined and focused. There are worried lines etched on her face, between her brows and corners of her mouth, lines that don't belong there. She shouldn't worry about him, she shouldn't look at him like that. Her hair is down, one wavy piece caught up in the corner of her eyelashes. Bucky carefully lifts his right hand breaking her hold, pushing the strand back behind her ear. The notion grounds, the sensation of soft hair and warm skin against his clammy fingers. He takes a deep breath.

"Hi," Bucky exhales. Everything is clear now, his chest loosens, his pulse slowly relaxes.

Ana gives him a small quirk of her lips. "Hi, yourself. Are you alright?”

Bucky nods. He didn't even realize he was having a panic attack. "Better.”

Ana pushes a glass of water over to him. "Drink that when you can. Right now I just want you to breathe.”

He nods again and does as he's told. Inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly.

"I'm so sorry," Natasha says somewhere to his right. Bucky looks over, noticing her and Steve. His friend looks like he's comforting her. "That was a mistake on my part. I should’ve known-”

"Nat, please," Ana gently interrupts her. She makes to move towards them, but Bucky grasp her hand still pressed to his chest. She doesn't look back, but she doesn't move forward. "It isn't your fault.”

With his left hand, Bucky takes the glass, drinking most of the water. He puts it down and it’s then he notices how pale Ana's skin is, the natural warmth of her color gone. Her fingers tremble. Bucky doesn’t have to strain his ears to hear how slow her heart rate is, all signs he quickly picks up on.

"You're not going to faint are you?" Bucky frantically asks. He can hear the concerned panic in his own voice.

Ana smirks over her shoulder. "No. I'm good. Worry about yourself, Sergeant Snowflake.”

The use of the nickname makes him smile, the shakiness of his body ceasing. He finishes off the water, and finally releases Ana, her hand falling from his chest. She stays put, Steve seeming to have control of whatever situation was happening. She doesn't stray far from him for the rest of the afternoon. Bucky appreciates the notion more than he thought.

***

Two.

That’s three.

Four. It has only been three hours after his panic attack and Bucky has counted four cups of coffee consumed by Ana since then. Large ones, and two espresso shots. He’s seriously beginning to worry about her heart rate again. There’s a slight tremble to her hands as she talks to Sam, and it takes longer for Ana to blink fully. Her eyelids languid, lashes fluttering against her still slightly pale cheeks. Ana always has a nice natural glow to her skin, but the color just hasn't come back yet. There are dark circles under her eyes.

A little while later, Bucky apologizes to Ana as she's lounging on the couch, Ezra curled up in her lap. He tells her he knew she was helping everyone else, already stretching herself and abilities too thin. He didn't mean to add on to her burden, or make it worse. He feels guilty for causing her to nearly pass out again, feels guilty because when he pulled his arm back, he nearly smacked her in the face. He doesn't tell her that part though, he just opts to keep his left arm away from her the best he can.

"Bucky." Ana intones flatly. "If I didn't have a cat currently on my lap I would dropkick you. So, instead-" She stretches her arm out, lazily swiping it through the air and pinching her fingers.

"What the hell are you trying to do?" Bucky can't keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Trying to pinch you but you're too far.”

A surprised laughs emits from him. It earns him a pillow in the chest.

"Ha!" Ana chirps. She angles her head until she's staring at him upside down. "Seriously, though. Don't ever apologize for having a panic attack, Bucky. It's never your fault and you should never feel ashamed or guilty if you have one. Remember, I chose to help this team, none of what happens to me is anyone's fault. It's my ability and I will use it as often and as best as I can. Got it?”

"Yes, ma'am," He smirks.

Ana groans and throws another pillow at his head.

***

Four days have passed since that damn mission and  Bucky's abrupt panic attack. Four days have passed and Ana has finally caught up on sleep. Things have gone back to as normal as they can get. Its been quiet, the weather has been getting warmer. Ana appreciates it. She grabs a book to read, curling up on the couch, enjoying the warm breeze. Voices carry from the open patio doors interrupting her reading.

“Strange.”

“That’s what I said.”

Ana rolls her eyes in amusement. This has been going on for the half hour. She flips the page of her book.

“Have you guys ever seen 2001 Space Odyssey?” She calls over the couch. “There’s this scene with monkeys at the dawn of men going crazy over this device that appears. Funny how I just thought of it.”

"Aren't you reading?" Bucky responds.

"Hard to concentrate with two dinosaurs marveling over technology.”

She sees a movement from the corner of her eye, and catches the plum that was thrown at her. She takes a bite out of it, throwing it back just to spite him. She hears him scoff but the fruit doesn't return. Ana snaps her book shut, getting up from the couch, grabbing the jar of Nutella from the cabinet along with three spoons.

Making her way outside, she sits on Steve's left. Ana slides the jar and one of the spoons over to Bucky who catches it, quickly twisting the top off. She rolls her eyes at him. Instead, she decides to focus on what they were talking about. It's a phone. The brand new smart phone to be exact.

"You got a phone?" She questions raising her eyebrows.

Bucky hums with the spoon in his mouth. Ana swears he is an actual child most of the time. How were people terrified of this man when he acts like this. All the guards and agents that surround them in the lab wouldn't be so on edge if they saw this. Spoon hanging out of his mouth, blue eyes wide and inquisitive.

"Why is Steve teaching you how to use it?.

"Hey, I've gotten a handle on mine now," Steve frowns.

"It took you three months to fully understand it," Ana reminds him. "Let me see it." She hold her hand out.

"I already programmed your number in there," Steve smirks at her.

"It's under the name, Feisty Annie." Bucky states, taking the spoon out of his mouth. He grabs another one.

"I hate you and Hawkeye. I hope you know that.”

Bucky just chuckles around another spoonful. Ana leans over to grab the phone, the same one as hers. The first thing she does is change the langue from English to French. Then she opens the notes and types out a phrase. She slides it back to Bucky. He glances down then nearly chokes on his spoon. Ana beams at him.

Steve hardly pays attention, used to their banter over the weeks. "Don't you write to that pen pal of yours on the phone?”

"Telly? Yeah, when I'm away from the computer. We usually leave the heavier research side to the laptops. For everyday talk we use an app.”

"Who's Telly?" Bucky inquires after he has recovered from the Lady Marmalade lyric.

"A friend of mine I met on a forum board about technology advances that help aid physical and mental health. It's a really interesting website we met on. We talk about the different advances coming out, one of them being a new research development of a full functioning artificial knee. This would last much longer than what's already out on the market.”

"Really, and that can help you?" Steve questions, clearly intrigued.

"I hope so. The one Tony gave me is great and all, but he said it can only last up to five years and...well...I'm pushing eight.”

"What's wrong with your knee?" Bucky frowns while he lowers his spoon.

She blinks, hoping he didn’t catch her split hesitation. "Horrible injury seven years ago,” She answers as honestly as she can. “Tore my ACL and Mencius to the point where even surgery couldn't fully fix it. Eventually the cartilage wore out, completely gone. I would have had to use a brace from my knee to my thigh, and keep coming back for surgeries every two years, and shots every six months. Tony was nice enough to basically build me an artificial one. Or well, he was able to develop these little robotic pins and those act how the joints and everything else usually work.”

"I didn't know that.”

Ana winces. "Sorry. I sometimes forget, mainly because it feels like a normal one.”

"Is that why you don't do field work?”

"Yep.”

"You are a very interesting person, Ana Rios." Bucky states.

"I'm taking that as a compliment.”

Bucky smiles at her, sliding the Nutella over. "As you should.”

The clearing of a throat reminds them Steve is still there, his eyes dancing with a coy gleam as he pointedly looks at Bucky. Ana doesn’t pay attention to that odd stare or if Bucky responds in any way, too busy finishing off the chocolate spread.

***

"Samuel Wilson!" Ana shouts, rushing down the hall. "I swear to God if I find out you were the one that switched my CDs again I will- oof!”

The second time Ana smacks into a solid body is much harder than the first. There's an immediate dull pain in her shoulder, throbbing from the metal arm she literally ran into it. She opens her mouth to say something along the lines of despite being a super soldier Bucky has no grace. However, words die in her throat and she can't seem to close her mouth.

Bucky is shirtless.

Shirtless. With every single defined muscle on display. Of their own accord, her eyes drift slowly down his body. From his shoulders, collarbones, to his abs that Ana swears were chiseled by Michelangelo at some point, to the cut of his hips. He shifts, and his muscles contract. It makes Ana move her gaze back up, just as languidly as before. She gets ready to meet Bucky's eyes, but her own halt at his left shoulder.

It's the first time she's fully seeing his prosthetic arm to the base. Ana has caught glimpses whenever he has worn undershirt tank tops, but viewing it now is different. Raised flushed scarring curves around the edge of where the metal port merges with the skin of his torso. Five distinctive jagged lines have marred his skin down to his left pectoral.

Slowly, Ana lifts her hand, she doesn't want to touch, she would never cross such an intimate boundary without consent. She understands what scars can do to a person, she just notices how the five scars match the width of fingers. Her own memory assaults her mind, abruptly thrown back to the day she received her own, the images makes her drop her hand. Finally, Ana meets his curiously apprehensive  gaze. There's a moment that stills between them, then Ana blinks.

"Sorry!" Bucky says belatedly.

"Why are you walking around shirtless?" Ana asks, rubbing her shoulder.

"I was in my roo- why are you shouting?" He ends up questioning instead. "How's your shoulder?”

"It's fine. Sam switched my CDs around and now I don't know which is which. I mean, I'm pretty sure he did."

"You called me a pigeon!" Echoes Sam's voice from down the hallway.

Bucky raises his eyebrows. "A pigeon?”

Ana simpers innocently.

"You're such a troublemaker," Bucky chuckles.

"Am not," She disagrees. "Now, if you'll excuse me and your-" she gestures to his abs, "I must go hunt him down.”

She doesn't stick around to see his expression, and she doesn't stick around more importantly so Bucky doesn't see her flushing cheeks. Ana doesn't understand herself. She has seen plenty of men shirtless before, it comes with training and medical purposes. Somehow, this feels different.

***

"Do you mind taking your shirt off?" Ana blurts out a day later, catching Bucky off guard.

"What?" Bucky bewilders, his face heating up. He recalls the other day, running out of his room to investigate what was happening.

They're up on the roof again, having decided to watch Wanda and Clint do a version of training together. It consists of the youngest Avenger throwing pine cones in the air with her glowing powers and Barton firing his arrows. Steve had been out there first, gathering and chopping wood for the fireplace inside; Bucky suspects Steve does it to keep his mind busy, something they both done back in the 30′s. There was a misfire, one of the pine cones flying too close to the water hose, and Clint's arrow ending up piercing both the cone and hose. It sprayed water all over Steve, opting him to take off his soaked shirt. Probably the reason for Ana’s odd request. 

"I meant, oh god, not like that," She hides her face in her hands. "I meant, like. Okay. I'm so much more eloquent than this. I'm just going to ask. Is it alright if I see your scars please?”

His scars? The ugly raised lines around the sight where the metal fuses with his skin? Why would she even want to look at those? Maybe this will be the defining factor that makes her finally run away from him. These scars are reminders of what was done to him. Scars that tattooed his own torture onto his skin, essentially giving way to his metal arm that has carried out horrific things.

To this day, Bucky has a hard time looking at them. He doesn't spend much time gazing in a mirror anyway, doesn’t want to see the ghosts in his eyes. Taking too long to answer, Ana peeks her eyes out between her fingers, gauging his reaction. Discolored jagged lines on her left wrist catch in the sunlight, has Bucky forming an idea. He swallows his anxiety for now, burning curiosity winning out.

"If I show you my scars, can you tell me about yours?" Bucky coaxes. He’s nervous. He doesn't know how personal that question might be. Ana has yet to divulge into her own past. "The ones on your back and hip as well?”

“Ah,” Her face falls, a visible shift of shadows in her eyes. “You saw those?”

“I have.”

“Well, I probably would’ve told you eventually. So, deal.” She then kicks his booted foot with her own. “What’s taking you?”

“Impatient,” He mutters, trying to get hold of his damn cheeks heating up again. It's been happening a lot around her lately. He doesn't fully comprehend why.

Swallowing the nervousness he feels, Bucky grabs the hem of his shirt. He reminds himself that Ana has technically already seen them, and she didn't sneer at him with disgust. The second he takes his shirt off is the second the last ounce of his own protective walls leave with it. Breathing slowly to steel himself, he pulls the shirt over and off his head. He wrings his hands in the material to give him something to do. When he looks at Ana for her reaction, all he gets is a slight furrow of her brows. She appears to be contemplating something.

"They look like..." Ana begins, but her voice fades out.

She lifts her right hand like she did the other day, tentatively hovering her fingers over each of the five distinct lines. Ana is smart, clearly figuring out how the lines came about. The tips of her fingers just barely graze over the scars, her delicate touch lingering. Bucky suppresses a shiver.

"It's one of the clearest memories  I have," Bucky admits somberly. "Before Hydra started brainwashing me. Sometimes I can still feel the pain when they cut my arm off. Can still feel every one of my fucking nerves on fire when they attached each chord to my shoulder. I remember waking up, feeling this unfathomable itch, this foreign weight, this poison. I would scratch and claw at it. I guess it was my skin healing around the base of it. I wanted to rip it off, I knew they only gave it to me to be a weapon. I tried clawing it off every night, ended up with those scars.”

Ana drops her hand. "Jesus," She mumbles.

Her face is pinched as if she can feel the physically painful memories. Her brows are knitted together again, and the corners of her mouth are tilted down in a pout.

"What's with that look, darlin’? It was forever ago.”

"You didn't deserve any of that.”

Bucky doesn't see any judgement in her eyes. No sneer of disgust, or even pity. He untangles his right hand from the shirt and touches his own scars. It's a constant reminder of so many things. He ignores them, deciding to focus the attention on Ana instead.

"How did you acquire the ones on your wrist and back? If it's okay that I ask." Bucky clarifies. He doesn't want to pry if Ana really isn't comfortable with telling him.

She holds her left wrist out. "A knife," She answers casually.

"A knife did that?” He carefully reaches out to touch.

"I was attacked by a knife, a big one. Caught me there," Her eyes drop to his thumb tracing the jagged scars. "And my hip. Stab wound as well.”

Bucky blinks in shock. Who the fuck would attack this woman with a knife. It also means the scar from her hip to her back is from a knife as well. He gently wraps his fingers around her forearm, inspecting the split scars closer. 

"Fuck, a knife? How-”

"I tried to get away, wasn't fast enough," Ana elaborates, remaining oddly vague too.

"Didn't nick any veins, the artery?" Bucky carefully traces the lines with his thumb. The scars are way too deep not to have been damaging.

"This one was almost deep enough to cut the radial artery. Doctor said it was a milometer from it. As for my hip and back. It was deep enough to slice through two inches of muscles." Ana clears her throat. "Almost didn't survive the night.”

Bucky shakes his head against the abrupt imagines of Ana lying in a hospital bed. Bandaged, pale and weak from major blood loss. Stitched up with thread probably over a hundred times. He swallows thickly. His stomach is churning with the thought of someone heartless enough to attack her. It's a sudden reminder that at any point of Bucky's Deprogramming, he could be triggered, and do the same exact thing. Slowly, he releases her wrist, keeps his hands firmly on his knees, tangled in the shirt again.

"What happened?" He whispers, his curiosity burning.

A quiet, double dinging sound emits from Ana's pocket. She pulls out her phone, glancing at the screen. 

"Another story of another day. Shit." Ana curses, standing up. She blenches.

"What is it?”

She shows him her phone, an angry text message displayed on the screen. "Tony found out I didn't wear the bracelet. Oh well." She shrugs.

Bucky just rolls his eyes at her. The scars momentarily forgotten.

**************************************************************************************

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