#team flare happens and he tries to take care of that perfectly as well

[chaserainbows]

calem’s in-game development aka there’s a reason why it’s called giving 120% and not giving 100% and breaking expectations you silly goose

[pepper-up-potion]

Humor me (George Weasley x fem!reader)

Summary: Reader can't stand George Weasley but over time she realizes he might be a good addition to her life.

Warnings: crying, angst, let me know if I missed any.

Word count: 5.5k (this is my longest fic so far!)

A/n: I still don't know how to feel about this. A part of me likes it and a part of me feels it could be better. This is my first enemies to lovers and it was very very fun.

———

“Thanks (y/n)! I can always count on you, you’re a lifesaver.” Shouts Neville as he runs down the hall and towards his next class. (Y/n) had helped him put healing salve and a bandage on his cut hand.

“Anytime!” She smiles as she watches him stumble away. She pulls out her book and sits back down on the windowsill.

“Humour me.” Says a foreign voice.

She looks up frowning. “I’m sorry?” She asks politely.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself?” Asks the red-haired boy.

“What are you talking about? I’m doing that right now.” She points to her book: Charms for first years

“That’s weird because I could’ve sworn you were in my charms class and not in first year.” He argues, shoving his hand in his pockets and clicking his tongue.

“Well I’m helping out a first-year next period but I enjoy doing that so I am doing something for myself.” She explains, slightly irritated.

“You can’t be serious?” He waits but she offers no response. She only lifts her nose at him. “That is not taking time for yourself. That’s preparing to help someone else.”

Her nostrils flare as she abruptly snaps her books shut. She shoves it into her bag before swinging it over her shoulder. She steps towards George. She suddenly realizes how tall he is. She gulps before placing a hand on her hip and pointing a finger at him.

“Listen here, helping other people is a very noble thing and if I wish to spend my free time doing that, I should not have to explain myself.”

“Ah, so you admit that you spend your free time helping other people rather than doing something for yourself?”

George smirks at her and she wants to slap it off his stupid pretty face.

“Wha-? No.” She huffs. “I don’t know why I’m arguing this with someone I hardly know but what I mean to say is that yes, it’s demanding and tedious but it’s also rewarding and the most gratifying thing I could ever do, so I believe I am doing something for myself. You just don’t get it because you spend all your time playing stupid pranks on everyone.” She snaps before pulling the strap of her bag further onto her shoulder and walking away. Normally she would feel bad for saying something like that to someone but for some reason she felt George could take it.

“So when will I see you again?” George shouts down the hall.

“I have to go!” She shouts back.

“I’ll see you in class then. Or maybe in the halls again.” He continues.

“Goodbye!” She turns the corner and speeds as far away from George as possible, steam practically fuming from her ears.

———

“Hey (y/n) could I just copy your homework before class? I didn’t have time to do it what with quidditch practice and all.” Asks Angelina.

(Y/n) nods and pulls out her answers, stands and walks to her seat, passing them to her. As (y/n) walks back she sees George slide into the spot next to hers. She grunts before stomping to her seat.

“ ‘Morning.” He sings, kicking his feet on the desk. She rolls her eyes and pushes his feet off, offering no other greeting. Now this is saying something, (y/n) always greets everybody. He laughs a little before turning to his bag and pulling out his textbook.

“Ark, couldn’t you go sit somewhere else?” She asks with a look of disgust.

George shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I could, but I’d like to think we’d make a good team and I’d like to test that theory.” He waves a pointed index as if to emphasize his point.

She shudders at the thought of having to work with him. It’s very likely they will, it often happens in potions class. (Y/n) is at the top of the class and she doubts Snape would have any objection to George working with her since she could easily bring up his grade. She sighs as Snape walks in and starts the lecture portion of the class.

“You will have the remaining hour to make your hiccoughing solution. Work with the person next to you.” With a wave of his arms everyone starts opening their textbook and discussing the potion.

To her surprise, George is really good at potions. Logically it makes sense because him and Fred are always creating new things but she never really thought it transferable to school. She watches, a little stunned as George quickly and skillfully goes through the steps of the potion. For the first time since she can last remember, she sits back instead of running the group. George occasionally asks her to cut something or extract oil from a root. She doesn’t argue, it’s sort of nice being told what to do rather than making all the decisions. She doesn’t tell him and refuses to think more of it because that’s not her proper role. She’s the leader, she’s the helper. Maybe this once she’ll let it slide, give herself a break.

Once the bell rings they gather their books and George finally speaks of other things than the potion.

“Relaxing isn’t it?” She tilts her head in confusion. “Not having to take care of others for once.” He continues.

Oh no he didn’t. He just ruined it. He took her small guilty moment of peace and crushed it. “You hardly let me do anything! What was I supposed to do? Fight you?”

George shrugs. “You could’ve.” He winks at her and she lets out an angry moan.

“Ark!” She turns on her heels and walks out of the class without another word.

“Same time next week?” She hears him shout but she’s already in the hallway and simply ignores him.

———

“You know you could give that to a house-elf and they could take care of that for you.” Says George as he leans into the door frame and watches (y/n) clean the chalkboard in the defence against the dark arts classroom.

“Well I don’t need to be taken care of, I’m perfectly capable of doing things on my own thank you very much” she spits back at him.

George and her are acquaintances at best. It’s been a month since they’ve first spoken to each other. Since then he seems to always be around her. Sitting next to her in class, offering to help her with her books in the hall. She’s never asked for him to be there or to share his opinion. Yet he’s there and very verbal about his thoughts.

He steps into the class and sits in the front row. He bounces his leg under the desk and leans back into the chair. He looks nervous but she can tell he’s trying to cover it up.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Waiting for Umbridge.” He points up the stairs at the closed door of her office. “I got detention.” He adds.

“What did you do?” She stops cleaning the board and sets the cleaning potion on the desk next to George.

“Gave a ton tongue toffee to Filch. His tongue was four feet long when Umbridge found him.” He chuckles to himself, remembering Umbridge’s reaction.

For the first time ever, (y/n) laughs in front of George. She tries to hold it in but it slips past her. George first looks surprised but soon he’s laughing with her.

“Glad to see someone is standing up to them.” She shakes her head. “Umbridge really is a horrible person. I can't believe all the mean things she’s doing to the students.” Her face is sad. George can see how much she cares for the other students.

“Well, would you look at that? We actually agree on something.” He crosses his arms and smirks at her. “Does this mean we're friends?” He asks.

She barks out a loud laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself Weasley.” She grabs her bag and walks out without another word. She can feel George’s gaze following her until she steps into the hall and out of sight. She wonders why her cheeks feel so hot suddenly.

———

(Y/n) is tutoring Seamus Finnigan in the library. They’re whispering over a book when George spots them. He smiles and beelines for their table.

“Mind if I sit here.” He asks, holding onto the chair in front of them. They both look up at him. Seamus smiles and reaches out his hand for a fist bump. (Y/n) rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out.

“Yeah mate, it’s no problem.” Says Seamus.

“No, you may not. It is very much a problem.” She hisses. Seamus looks at her, shocked by the bitterness in her voice.

“Blimey (y/n), I’ve never heard you so angry before.” He stuns.

She laughs nervously. He’s right, she normally doesn’t talk to people like that. The only exception to the rule is George. She grits her teeth and pastes a smile before looking at George.

“Of course you can sit here George. Any friend of Seamus is a friend of mine.” She somehow manages to sound sweet and somewhat sincere. George raises his eyebrows in surprise. He quickly recollects himself and takes a seat before she changes her mind.

“So, going back to charms. Can you tell me the definition of the substantive charm?” She asks Seamus.

“How long have you been doing this?” George interrupts.

Seamus grabs (y/n)’s arm and reads her watch. He whistles dramatically. “Crickey, it’s been an hour and fifteen minutes. I think we should call it a day.” He grabs his book and bag and gets up. “Thanks again (y/n). See you next week.” And with that, he was off.

(Y/n)’s jaw clenches as she looks from the now empty chair to George.

“Why?” She groans. “Why would you do that?”

“This is great. He got his help and you get a break. What do you say we go down to the dungeon and pull a prank on Malfoy?” He beams at her, pleased with his idea.

She gets the sudden urge to scream. Who does he think he is? Coming into her life and ruining everything. It is quite likely that Seamus won't do as well on the quiz as if he had stayed for the extra fifteen minutes she had planned and now she has to go deal with Hermione who wanted to rant about Ron. Something which she had very much been putting off. She takes a long, deep breath before looking at George again. The urge to scream has faded with the breath but the look on his face makes her see red.

“Could you please, please, find someone else to annoy. I don’t have time for this and you’re really starting to test my patients.” She pleads.

George’s face drops, evidently displeased by her response. He stands from his chair and puts his bag strap over his shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll leave.” He surrenders. There is a pause like he’s debating between leaving or adding another word. To (y/n)’s dissatisfaction, he continues to speak. “Anytime you need someone who doesn’t need help tutoring or homework to copy or healing salve, you know where to find me.”

She laughs loudly making everyone turn to look at her. “Pff yeah okay.” She dismisses, and with that George is turning away and walking out of the library.

She hates the sad feeling that settles in her chest. It’s like it’s telling her she wants him to stay. She rolls her eyes and swears to herself, gathering her things and heading to Hermione’s aid.

No matter how hard she tries not to, she spends the rest of the day thinking about George. His stupid face keeps popping into her head. What does he know? She likes when people ask for help. She is happy being the person people can turn to. She can’t understand what George thinks is wrong with that. Maybe he’s just a horrible person. It’s much easier to tell herself than to think there could be something wrong with her.

———

A week later (y/n) is knocking on Susan Bones’ door and stepping in before hearing a welcome.

“Merlin! I can’t stand him!” She shouts once in her best friend’s dorm room. Susan looks up from her book with her brows knitted.

“Who?” She asks while shutting her book and sitting up.

“George!” She states looking at Susan like she should have known. She shows no sign of further understanding (y/n)’s dilemma.

“Why?” She asks hesitantly. (Y/n) stomps to Susan’s bed and plops onto it.

“First he’s everywhere meddling into my life like it’s his business and now, radio silence.” She adds nothing more, leaving Susan even more confused.

“And that’s a problem because…”

(Y/n) sits up and flails her arms in the air. “Well, why did he make me question myself like that and then just vanish?” She exclaims exasperated.

Susan gapes, further confused. “But, didn’t you ask him to leave you alone?”

“Ark! That’s not the point!” She gets up and stomps out of the room. Susan blinks and looks around the room stunned even though there is no one to share the confusion with.

A moment later (y/n) is back into the room. “What on earth did he mean by if ever you want someone who doesn’t need help, you know where to find me?” She puts her hands on her hips and waits for her friend’s answer. Susan’s eyes light up and she smiles slightly. Now it’s (y/n)’s turn to look confused.

“He said that?” Asks Susan with a hopeful tone.

“Wha- I- Well yes he did but-.” She stops. Susan has left her stunned, she’s too confused to debate.

Susan’s smile grows wider. “Have you heard about Dombledors army?” She asks.

(Y/n) scrunches her nose. “No. What does that have to do with this?”

“Well I think you should come to our next meeting.” Her smile is mischievous, (y/n) hates it.

———-

The next day Susan takes (y/n) to the seventh floor. She stops in the middle of the hall and passes back and forth in front of a stone wall. Soon a door appears in front of them and (y/n) smiles, amazed by the castle's secrets.

Susan is the first to walk in waving at a few people near the door. Once (y/n) follows through the room goes silent. Harry finally walks up to them, hand stretched out.

“Welcome to the army.” He says confidently. She looks to Susan who gives her an encouraging nod. She finally accepts Harry’s hand with a small yet nervous smile.

As she looks around the room she feels a pair of eyes on her. She turns to find George looking at her with a neutral face. She lets out a little screech and turns back to Susan.

“You didn’t tell me he was going to be here!” (Y/n) whispers with a panicked tone.

“Well if I did you wouldn’t have come.” She states simply before walking off to talk with one of the other girls.

“Alright everyone. I think we’ll get started.” Announces Harry. Everyone goes quiet and they quickly form a half-circle around him. She sees a tall man settle next to her in her peripheral. She can just make out a flash of red hair. Her heart starts beating at an unruly pace.

“Today’s focus is on stunning. Nigel and I are going to do a demonstration so watch closely.” Everyone moves to the sides of the room whispering excitedly.

(Y/n) claps her hand over her mouth as she watches Harry fly backwards after being stunned by Nigel. She lets out a relieved sigh when Harry sits back up.

“I’d like to see you do that.” Whispers George into her ear. She jumps a little as his hot breath on her neck sends a shiver down her spine.

She turns to look at him. She has no snarky answer. She just gapes at him in surprise.

“I’d like to see you stand up for yourself for once.” He adds. She huffs in shock.

“I-“ She starts but Harry cuts her off. “Who wants to go next?” He asks.

“(Y/n) and I will go.” Announces George. She freezes as everyone eyes them curiously.

“Maybe someone else would like to go before us.” She tries.

“Nonsense, go on (y/n).” Says Harry enthusiastically. “No one here will judge you.” He adds thinking that’s her concern.

It’s not that she didn’t want to defend herself, it’s just she felt sort of bad stunning someone. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to do it. She walks to one end of the room and George to the other. He stretches out his arm, wand at the ready. She looks at Susan with a pleading look. Susan gives her an impatient nod and (y/n) reluctantly lifts her wand.

Neither of them moves, the room is completely silent. Soon there are whispers in the crowd. George is looking at (y/n) with a challenging eye. She gulps, trying to convince herself to stun him. She thinks that maybe if she does nothing he’ll grow impatient and stun her. That way she wouldn’t have to do it and he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of getting what he really wants.

“Right, any second now. Go ahead.” Says Harry slowly.

Nothing happens. George slumps out of his stans and raises his arms in the air. “Oh c’mon (y/n) stun me!” He exclaims.

She looks at the crowd as they all stare back at her. She suddenly feels weak in the knees. She begins to sweat nervously and looks at Susan. She looks a little concerned, maybe thinking this wasn’t as good an idea as she first thought. She still gives her a weak encouraging smile and a little thumbs up. (Y/n) looks back at George who has his arms stretched out taunting her.

“Oh for once in your life be mean!” He shouts. The words echo in the room.

“I can be plenty mean!” She disputes. “Last week, I ate Susan’s cookie.” She adds, puffing her chest.

George tries to hold back his smile. She hears a couple giggles in the crowd.

“That is not mean.” His tone is adoring and she hates it.

“It was her favourite brand.” She adds trying to make it sound more horrific. She’s the only one in the room with a serious face. Everyone else is smiling enjoying the tense exchange between the two.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “If it’s anything, it’s cute.” He says with a wink. There it is. There’s the final straw. She can feel her blood boil. Everyone holds their breath as they watch her face contort into an angry pout. George smiles wide thinking the pout is possibly the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

She lets out an angry grunt. “It is not cute! You wanna see cute? Watch this.” She flicks her wand and shouts: “Stupify!” The spell sends George across the room. Everyone exclaims as he hits the ground with a thud.

“Excellent! Really good (y/n)!” Exclaims Harry.

Across the room George is whooping. He runs over to her with arms wide open. His smile is contagious, she can’t stop hers from pulling at her cheeks. Laughs spill from her lips as he wraps her tightly into his arms. Fred helps George throw her over their shoulders. Everyone gathers around them and cheers. (Y/n) feels her cheeks go hot suddenly, very aware of George’s hand on her thigh keeping her in place. She looks at everyone’s happy smiles and she can't help but join in. She hates to admit it but George might have been right. Standing up for yourself can feel good.

———

It’s a Wednesday evening. Most people were already back in their common rooms. (Y/n) was walking back from the library, having finished another tutoring session with Zacharias Smith. The halls are practically deserted when she suddenly hears quiet sobs further away. She speeds her pace and turns the corner finally spotting a little boy crying quietly while holding his hand. Two older boys are kneeling next to him. Her breath hitches when she spots him. George hasn’t talked to her since their duel. She would sometimes catch his eye across the classroom or in the dining hall but this is the first time she’s run into him. George is rubbing circles on the boy's upper back as he whispers sweet comforting phrases to the crying boy. As she steps closer she recognizes the boy to be Michael. She has helped him countless times after he has gotten detention from Umbridge.

Looking at George now she questions how she once called him a horrible person. She sighs accepting she might have been too quick to judge. She steps between the Weasleys and kneels down at Micheal’s feet so they're at eye level. She looks through her big bag before pulling out some gauze and a small glass jar of healing salve. Micheal gives her his hand, remembering the drill. She quietly applies the salve and wraps his hand. She listens to George explain to Micheal how soon the pain will subside. She notices he never stops rubbing circles on the boy's back. There’s something reassuring about the movement and she’s not even the one receiving it.

Micheal takes a deep breath, recollecting himself. He looks between George and (y/n) before smiling mischievously.

“Thanks mom, dad.” He tips his head to each before getting up and walking to his dorm. George’s hand stays frozen in the air even if there’s no longer a back to rub. (Y/n) stops screwing the lid to her salve as she looks at the now empty seat. They both jump when Fred starts howling with laughter. His laughs echo down the hall as he doubles over himself, holding his aching stomach. He wipes at his eyes and sighs loudly.

“Good one kid.” He shouts though Michael is much too far to hear it. “Ah! That’s golden.” He adds before he walks off in the same direction as Micheal did before.

George and (y/n) remain frozen. (Y/n)’s face is pale and George's cheeks are tomato red. (Y/n) is the first to move, she finishes screwing on the lid and shoving it into her bag. She’s in a hurry to get out of this very awkward situation. She shoots a look at George who moved from the floor and onto the bench. He’s leaning back onto the wall with his arms crossed. He smirks when she meets his eyes.

“We would have some cute kids.” His tone is teasing but there’s still something soft and affectionate in the statement.

“Oh honestly George, get a grip.” She rolls her eyes and walks away quickly. It takes all her willpower to hold in her smile until her back is turned to George. He’s not wrong she thinks to herself.

——-

She knocks lightly on the dorm room door. She can hear George’s loud laugh on the other side. She hopes he won’t be mad at her for interrupting the fun. Lee opens the door and the smile on his face is quickly replaced by a look of surprise.

“(Y/n)?” He stuns. The laughter in the room stops abruptly. She hears shuffling and soon George is peaking his head over Lee’s shoulder.

Lee quickly moves out of the way and George looks at her with a concerned look.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” He asks looking around to make sure there is no one else listening.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you were having fun there.” She feels pretty stupid now that she’s actually standing in front of him. George shakes his head vigorously to tell her it’s no problem.

“I just-“ she runs a hand through her hair. “I sort of need someone who doesn’t need help with tutoring or homework or healing salve.” The offer is months old. They haven’t even talked in weeks. She never thought she’d actually take him up on it but she didn’t know who else to turn to.

His shoulders drop and a natural smile spreads across his face. “Well then I’m your guy.” He closes the door behind him and guides her down the stairs and into the common room. It’s late, most students are in bed. George asks the few left if they could give them some privacy and they all retreat to their rooms.

“What’s up?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

She sighs and walks over to the big red couch. She sits down and buries her head into her hands. “I- I’m so tired George.” Her voice is laced with despair. “There’s just so much to do and I’m trying, I really am but I just don't know if I have it in me.”

George sits next to her, so close that their knees touch. “What are all the things you need to do?” He asks softly.

“I have to run the potions club and make that banner for the Ancient Runes Club. I have to tutor Hannah and Seamus and Zacharias and so many other people. I have to make sure Lavender is okay and that Luna found her socks. I have to listen to Hermione and Ginny talk about their boy problems and then give them advice. I have to write back to my parents and help them with their problems. I have to help McGonagall with the rat problem because no one else wants to. Madame Pomfrey said I could intern with her but that means I have to spend ten hours a week in the hospital wing. I told professor Sprout I’d help her extract pus from Bubotuber. I promised Colin I would look out for Dennis and I haven't even seen him in weeks.” It all spills out. For the first time ever she is totally transparent about her problems. “And then I have to worry about my own studies and try and keep my grades up and there’s the stress of Dumbledore’s army, what if we get caught?” She’s panting by the end suddenly feeling much lighter.

“Well maybe you could say no to a couple people. I’m sure the Ancient Runes Club can wait for a sign, Mcgonagall can take care of the rats on her own. You can say no you know.” He places a hand on her thigh and looks deep into her eyes.

“But- I can’t George! I can't say no. Those people are counting on me. What if the clubs fall apart or Seamus’ grades drop or Luna never finds her socks.” Her face is panicked.

“Let me help you.” He says it so softly. She feels a dry lump in her throat. Her jaw suddenly hurts and she feels tears well up in her eyes.

“I don’t want your help George!” She jumps off the couch and onto her feet. George’s hand slips off her thigh and onto the couch. It looks limp and sad without her leg to hold it. “I don’t need you, I was doing perfectly fine before you came around and I’ll be fine without you moving forward.” There’s a pause. “ I didn’t come here for you to save the day.” There it is. She doesn’t want to appear weak. She thinks asking for help makes her weak.

George stands up, towering over her. “Fine. If that’s how you feel then I’ll leave. I will go for good and you won’t have to worry about me meddling in your life anymore. I just want you to know that I’m offering to help because I can see how hard this is for you and I think you deserve more than what you’ve granted yourself.” George steps forward closing the gap. “I think you deserve to be taken care of for a change.” They’re inches away from each other. His face suddenly turns soft as he looks into her tear-filled eyes.

There’s a silent pause. She looks into George’s eyes and she sees the honesty, the care, the love. George is there for her when no one else is. He’s right, she is having a hard time and he’s the one offering the help. No one else. All the other people she has sworn would help her, be there for her, aren’t there. But how could they have known? She never tells them how hard it is, always caring for others. She never asks for their help. It’s not that those people don’t care. She just never opens up to them. She never permits them to be anything else than people she could help. All she ever did was give and give. She never believed she should do anything else. George is the first person who wants her to take, not give. It finally clicks. Everything that George has been trying to make her see is crystal clear now.

A tear spills from down her cheek and she feels her knees go weak. She cups her hand over her mouth trying to hold in a sob. She takes a step back shaking her head in denial. George’s face remains soft but there’s concern in his eyes.

“Hey.” He tilts his head, maintaining eye contact as she tries to look away. “It’s okay.” He pulls her towards his chest and she welcomes it. She falls into his arms as more tears fall down her cheeks. “Let it out.” He says.

With that permission (y/n) cries. She cries like never before. Loud sobs slip from her lips as her body shakes in George’s arms. She cries about all the sad secrets people have confided in her. She cries for all the days she sacrificed for others. She cries for all the “I love that you never say no”. She cries for all the grades she sacrificed to keep others high. She lets out years of pent-up tears, of hurt.

He rubs small circles on her upper back and remains quiet. She was right, there relay is something reassuring about those little circles. She cries for an hour and George never moves, never speaks, never stops her.

Finally, she sniffles her last tear and steps out of George’s arms. He reluctantly lets her go but takes her hand in his. She pulls it away to wipe at her eyes.

“Thank you.” Her voice is so delicate she would be embarrassed if it weren’t George in front of her. She laughs suddenly and George looks shocked. She soon starts crying of laughter and George gapes unsure of what to do.

“Are you okay?” He asks confused.

“I just, I hate you.” She laughs again. George looks stunned. He takes a step away from her and opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off.

“Or so I thought. You have bugged me every day for months yet there’s no one I want here more than you.” George takes a tentative step forward. The words seem to give him confidence. “As crazy as it sounds I’ve had some of the best times talking with you because I actually said what I wanted to say. You can handle me better than anyone else. You challenge me in a way that I absolutely hate but I know why you’re doing it. You’re helping me learn to take care of myself and that’s hard because it’s something I’ve never done before.” She stops for a moment. The look in her eyes changes. First, there’s shock as she realizes. Then there’s a soft and happy glow. “I think I’m falling in love with you George.” She gasps. It’s almost a whisper. She barely wants to admit it.

“Come here.” Is all he says. She doesn’t move. Her brows knit themselves as she searches his face for an explanation. She takes a deep breath. The step towards him feels like a trust fall. He gently pulls her closer by the waist. He presses his forehead to hers. (Y/n) pushes her nose to his, bringing their lips closer to one another. He repeats the movement.

They tease each other a couple more times before George whispers “Can I kiss you?” She nods slowly and whispers a yes. He tips his head so their lips connect. His soft lips send sparks down her spine. George wraps an arm up to her back and pulls her closer quickly deepening the kiss. She wraps her arms around his next and soon her hands tangle into his fiery red hair. It feels like rain after a dry summer, like the cold side of her pillow, like the warm fire after coming in from the cold, it feels like heaven. Nothing has ever felt more right than their lips pressed together and for once, she’s giving in to what she wants.

When George pulls away she finds herself chasing his lips. She pouts a little missing the kiss. George runs a hand over her hair and looks at her adoringly.

“I’m falling for you too (y/n)”

[romanoffswifey]

Point Blank Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha struggles to deal with the aftermath of that night, and life still has a few surprises left to throw at her.

Contents/Warnings: mentions of serious injury, some angst (but don’t worry too much)

Words: 2,280

AN - As promised here is the second part to Point Blank. I’m so sorry that it took me so long to get this out (uni came along and kicked me in the head) but I hope that you still enjoy it

PART 1

Natasha stares into the bathroom mirror, barely recognising the woman who gazes blankly back at her. All bloodshot eyes and puffy eyelids, her face red and blotchy as loose strands of hair cling to the slightly damp trails that mar her cheeks.

She swallows thickly against the soreness of her throat and raises a shaky hand to her reflection. The skin of her fingers raw from where she had scrubbed at them. As if she could simply wash away the feeling of your blood on her hands.

You had started to feel so cold when Steve had finally pried you from her arms, he and Tony quickly rushing your limp form from the room. Leaving her frozen there. Watching as her world imploded around her, haunted by the knowledge that she’d been the one to cause it.

The muscles in her jaw and hands clench as realisation washes over her again. Her vision blurs as tears well in her eyes, and she draws back her fist, letting out a grief stricken roar as she slams it into the wall in front of her.

She has no idea how long she stays there, weeping quietly, before Wanda’s hands wrap around her arm. Gently taking her hand away from the web of cracks she’d just created and pushing it under the stream of water once more. 

The redhead tenses when she’s led back into the main part of the room. A wave of nausea hitting her as she catches a glimpse at just how much of your blood now stains the bed sheets. 

The younger woman notices her reaction and hurriedly guides her down the hallway to her own room, knowing that the redhead wasn’t going to stay in your shared room any longer but certainly not trusting her to be in her spare room alone.

Natasha spends the rest of the night laying awake next to the brunette. Staring at the ceiling as silent tears run down her face, as every time she closes her eyes she’s back there. Reliving that moment over and over again.

Morning comes, and a small part of Natasha is glad for Wanda’s grounding presence as Tony leads the pair to the labs. A warm hand on her shoulder helps to calm her when he begins to place machinery around her head, the billionaire hoping to discover the cause of her actions.

It turned out that when she was separated from the team during your last mission, she had actually been captured by a set of Hydra operatives. The agents deciding to try out their latest form of brainwashing on her. A type of subliminal suggestion.

Clearly they had underestimated her skill as she had put up one hell of a fight, even while under the influence of whatever they had given her. This, combined with the approaching battle from the rest of the avengers, meant they had been forced to let her go before they were finished. Only managing to implant a small piece of their directive into her mind.

But a piece is all they had needed.

To take out even one avenger would be a win for Hydra, and you were the obvious target. Your relationship with Natasha meant that it was normal for you to be in close proximity with each other and for you to have your guard down around her. All she had to do was stick by your side as usual and the programing would kick in and do the rest.

This knowledge did nothing to lessen the pain and the guilt that filled her. Did nothing to change the fact that she had been the one to pull the trigger. 

She can’t stand the looks of sympathy that the others keep throwing her and the way they don’t seem to hold her accountable. So she avoids them. Choosing to forgo team meals and quickly dismissing their offers of company.

But she doesn’t go down to see you either. She thinks whatever is left of her heart would crumble if she saw you now. How could she sit next to your bedside when she was the one who put you there in the first place? She’s not sure you would even want her there if she did.

Over the last 5 years you had provided her with everything she had searched for her whole life. Giving her all your love and support, and helping her believe that she was deserving of it. She felt like she was where she belonged when she was with you, like she had found her home. You were the only person she’d ever had the desire to spend the rest of her life with, and she had repaid you by putting a bullet in you.

When the day drags into evening Wanda gets fed up with watching her self destruction and puts her foot down. The Sokovian forcing the redhead to get something to eat or drink before she makes herself sick. 

Natasha now sits quietly at the kitchen table, her dull eyes fixed on the grain of the wood as Wanda busies herself off to the side. The sound of bubbling fills the silence followed shortly by the clanking of metal on ceramic. 

Careful hands come to adjust the blanket around her shoulders, and a mug is placed in front of her. The scent and colour tell her what it is immediately; Yorkshire tea, milk, two sugars. Your hot beverage of choice. 

She finds it laughable that she should seek comfort from your favourite drink while you could be fighting for your life right now. And yet, some traitorous part of her still does. The familiarity of it ghosting soothingly over the ache in her chest.

Her gaze remains drawn to the rising steam but she’s aware of the way Wanda moves to join a couple of people by the door. A small hint of anger flaring within her as she registers the happiness in their hushed tones. Her annoyance grows after she hears only two sets of footsteps walk down the hall. Leaving her with the feeling of being watched by whoever stayed.

“You know, I was a bit upset that you didn’t come and visit me at first.” Natasha’s head  snaps up at your voice. “But then I realised that you’re probably stuck in that beautiful ginger head of yours.”

“How?” is all she manages to rasp. Gaping at you as you stand leaning on the doorframe like nothing had happened.

You walk over to her, not missing the rough quality of her voice or the way she still squints slightly against the soft light of the room. Your heart twinges at how small and broken she looks as she sits there.

Green eyes watch intently as you kneel in front of her and pick up the tea, humming at the taste as you take a sip, then blowing gently over the brim before offering it to the other woman. Your lips quirk into a small smile when her fingers brush over your own as she takes it from you.

Natasha has to admit that it does feel nice against the scratchiness of her throat.

“How are you up here right now?” she asks a bit easier this time, setting the tea back down and hesitantly reaching out for your hand.

“Well, it turns out that enhanced physiology and the best medical treatment a billionaire can buy are very useful when you get shot,” you explain with a half-smile. “In fact, they said that I'll be perfectly fine and left with minimal scarring.”

You place a kiss on the back of her hand and push it under your jumper, guiding it up towards the tender spot at the top of your abdomen. “See, it’s not that bad.”

Through the bandages and the gauze that lay across your skin, the redhead can feel a small rough patch. It’s barely bigger than her finger tip. But she still frowns as she traces over it.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes, dropping both her gaze and her hand, “I’m so sorry.”

Your brows furrow this time. “What have you got to be sorry for, dorogoy?”

“I did this to you, Y/N. I was supposed to protect you and I shot you! You should hate me! You should want nothing to do with me, not be sat here calling me darling!”

“Hey, look at me.” Her teary eyes reluctantly meet your own as you cup her face. “Hydra did this to me, not you. We both know how their brand of mental warfare works and I’m not going to let you torture yourself over it. I love you too much for that.”

“But I still hurt you. I could have done something to stop it and I let you down,” she argues.

“No you didn’t. You tried to fight it. You knew that something wasn’t right and tried to warn me.” You let out a huff of amusement. “Even subconsciously you did try to protect me, just like you always do.”

Her eyes become more focused and her ragged breathing slows down, showing that she was listening to what you said.

Natasha stands and you follow suit, watching quietly as she studies you for a moment before pulling you into a fierce hug. She buries her face in the crook of your neck while her fingers dig into the thick knit of your jump, clutching at you tightly as she breathes in your scent. She sighs softly as you begin to rub comforting circles across her back.

The pair of you stay like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the embrace. Glad to be back in the other's arms once more.

When she pulls back, you bring your left hand up to caress her face and a small glint catches her eye. The Russian finally noticing the ring you’re wearing.

“You found it,” she murmurs as she runs her finger along the metal band.

You flash her a sheepish smile. “It was an accident I swear. And in my defence, for a super spy you do sometimes pick terrible hiding places.”

The place she had chosen to hide it was not the best, she had to give you that, but at the time she was kind of freaking out. She had known for a while that you were the only person she wanted to be with but the actual purchasing of the engagement ring had been a spur of the moment decision, and once she’d returned to the compound the panic had set in.

Despite the fact she had long since learnt that everything the Red Room had spouted about love was a lie, she couldn’t help the hint of fear that rose in her at what her desires meant. What that ring represented. And then there was the worry that you wouldn’t actually want to spend the rest of your life with her. Even though you had been with her for so long already. After everything that had happened recently, the latter of her fears only seemed to grow.

She looks away, nervously picking at the edge of the blanket as she voices her thoughts. “Would you even want to?”

“Would I want to what?” you ask, biting the inside of your lip to keep from smiling as you try your hardest to play dumb.

Her eyes flick back to yours. “Would you want to...get married?” she trails off quietly, finally saying the words you were waiting for.

A bright grin appears on your face, and she can’t help the way her own lips tug upwards as she rests her forehead against yours.

“Of course I want to get married, moya lyubov.” You bump your noses together playfully. “Though, I’ll only do it on one condition.”

Natasha hides the flash of panic that runs through her. She’s not entirely sure she can cope with any more emotional turmoil.

You pull away slightly so you can reach into your pocket, pulling out a small velvet box that you hold up in front of you. When you open the lid the redhead lets out a little gasp at its contents. “That condition being that you, Natalia Romanova, would be my wife.”

For the first time that day the tears that well in her eyes are ones of joy. 

Placing one hand over the ring you’re holding and winding the other around the back of your neck, she pulls you into a bruising kiss. The passion behind it makes you weak in the knees and you can’t help the moan that escapes as her tongue pushes into your mouth, brushing over yours in a way that has no business feeling as good as it does.

After a while she releases your lips with a soft pop, leaving you both breathless and not quite able to open your eyes just yet. You can still feel her smirk though.

“I take it that’s a yes then,” you murmur against her lips.

She chuckles and responds by drawing you into another kiss.

Later, once you’ve made sure she’s eaten properly and she’s helped you with a very relaxing bath; you lay in bed together. Natasha wrapped around you protectively while you read a dog eared copy of your favorite book.

She hums contentedly into the side of your neck as she presses herself closer to you. Her smile widens when she glances down to where you’re absentmindedly playing with her fingers. Knowing that soon you won’t only have each other’s hearts, but each other’s names as well.

Natasha L/N-Romanoff had a nice ring to it, and she has a feeling it’s the one that she’s finally going to keep.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Lover

Day 8, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: Lover (or, five times Lavender felt Ron slipping away, and the one time she didn't)

Author: adenei

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Lavender Brown, but also heavy insinuations on Ron x Hermione 

Prompt: 5+1

Rating: T (for fabricated insinuations)

TW: Teen heartbreak and all the drama that comes with it.

Author's note: While I am primarily a Romione writer, I could not get this idea out of my head. So, here's a little Lav redemption. After all, she was only a girl who fell for a boy and pursued a perfectly unattached boy.

******

9 November 1996

I think he knows his hands around a cold glass 

Make me wanna know that body like it’s mine.

-I Think He Knows

The Gryffindor common room was aglow in crimson and gold, filled to capacity for the celebration of today’s victory against Slytherin. Seamus and Dean managed to smuggle in a boatload of Butterbeer for everyone, which masked the two bottles of Firewhisky Seamus was passing around their inner circle. Parvati and Lavender were lounging in the same armchair on the far side of the room.

  Lavender’s never been one to pay close attention to a Quidditch match. Sure, she was all about the parties and house spirit following a match, and if Hogwarts had a cheer squad, she’d be the first person to sign up. But sitting in the stands, watching a match for an indeterminable amount of time? She could think of at least five other things to do that didn’t involve the wind claiming victim to her hair as players whizzed by on broomsticks.

  Now that they were inside and out of the crisp November air, she could enjoy the party with her friends. Though, it’d be much more enjoyable if a certain redhead would stop flashing a grin in her direction and just come over to talk to her instead.

  “You're staring again,” Parvati chided.

  Lavender sighed in response. She couldn’t help it. He’d filled out over the summer, and Quidditch training had been kind to his physique. Red hair wasn’t a feature she ever gravitated to in the past, but freckles and those bright blue eyes were her downfall. Not to mention his infectious smile and the way he was always able to make everyone around him laugh. Ron Weasley was a good guy, and Lavender wanted to get to know him better.

  “He’s single, right?” Her fingers twirled her curly blonde hair between her fingers as she watched him take a swig of Butterbeer from the cold glass in his hands.

  “As single as the last time you asked me,” Parvati responded with an air of nonchalance in her tone.

  Lavender wasn’t surprised by her bored tone. There was only so much they could talk about when it came to Ron, considering neither knew that much about him. She contemplated Parvati’s response, weighing the options of trying to pursue something. A voice in the back of Lavender’s mind was screaming at her to ask what her other roommate’s thoughts were on the matter concerning Lavender asking Ron out, but Hermione was nowhere to be found. 

  Besides, did it really matter what she thought? Hermione has had all the time in the world to make a move on Ron if she really wanted to. She had no claim on the redheaded Gryffindor. As far as Lavender knew, he was fair game, and at the rate Ron kept glancing in her direction, she was sure it meant something.

  So, Lavender swiped the bottle of Firewhisky from the space between Parvati’s legs and the arm of the chair, where she’d been keeping it hidden, and took a large swig. She’d need the liquid courage for what she’d just decided to do.

  “What are you—” Parvati started to ask before Lavender cut her off.

  “I’m going for it.”

  Without another thought, Lavender hopped off the chair and marched over to Ron, who had just set his empty glass down on the table behind him. She still hadn’t made up her mind about whether she was going to say anything or not and let the wide lopsided grin that erupted on his face decide for her when he saw her approaching.

  “Hey, Lavender! What’d you think of the—”

  Lavender didn’t wait to hear the rest of Ron’s question as she threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. His eager response paired with his hands finding a home on her hips egged her on as she refused to break the kiss right away. It was sloppy, and he was inexperienced, but he didn’t pull away at her advances. 

  I can teach him a thing or two and whip him into boyfriend material in no time.

  When they finally did pull apart, it was to a chorus of catcalls around the room. A coy smile passed over her lips as she asked, “should we find someplace a little more private?”

  ♚

20 December 1996

  Kiss me once, cause I know you had a long night

Kiss me twice ‘cause it’s gonna be alright

Three times ‘cause you waited your whole life

~Paper Rings

  “So, what do you want to do tonight?” 

  Lavender bounced up and down on the sofa next to Ron. It was the last night before the Christmas hols, and she wanted to make the most of it since she wouldn’t get to kiss him for two weeks. But something was off. Ron seemed distracted, and he kept looking past her, which was beginning to grate on Lavender’s nerves.

  “Er, I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of packing to do still, so I’m not sure if we should really—”

  Lavender was taken aback as Ron threw himself at her, lips clashing together even though he was just in the middle of telling her he was too busy to do anything. Lavender cracked an eyelid open to see Hermione shoot them a disgusted look as she crossed the room and waited by the portrait hole. She clamped her eyes shut a moment later when she sensed Ron’s twitch.

  She wasn’t going to complain about snogging her boyfriend in the middle of the common room, but she kept her ears open.

  “Ah, Granger, looking delicious as ever.”

  Hermione was going to the party with Cormac? She must really be desperate to want to go with that sleazeball. 

  “Let’s get going,” Hermione responded in her usual clipped tone. “I’d rather not be in the vicinity of that much longer.”

  Lavender tried not to be offended by Hermione’s icy words. Ron didn’t deserve to be treated like rubbish, and neither did she. It’s not like Hermione had laid any claim on Ron. She tried to refocus her attention on the snog, but Ron pulled away as soon as the portrait hole closed.

  Huh, well, that was odd.

  “Well, I should go and get packed, then. I’ll see you in the morning?”

  What just happened? Is he really going upstairs after snogging me like that? 

  Lavender was thoroughly confused by Ron’s actions. Nothing seemed to match up tonight, and she didn’t want to leave things like this at the train station tomorrow. She needed to know what was going through his mind.

  “Won-Won, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing'. Why’d you start snogging me when Hermione came down the stairs?”

  “What? I can’t snog my girlfriend? It had nothing to do with Hermione.”

  Ron sounded convincing, but Lavender was still hesitant to believe it.

  “Are you sure? 

  “Yes.”

  Lavender noticed how Ron’s ears turned a bright shade of pink and wondered if he was hiding something. Even if he was, he was her boyfriend, and she decided to trust him. Switching gears, Lavender asked him the other question that was weighing on her mind.

  “Not that I care who Hermione’s going to the Slug Club party with, but why McLaggen? Everyone in Gryffindor knows to stay away from him.”

  “Dunno. Why do you say that?”

  “You don’t know? McLaggen doesn’t like to be told ‘no’.”

  “He—what?” Ron groaned and rubbed the back of his neck while his nostrils flared in annoyance. Or was it anger?

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, well, she shouldn’t be going with him in the first place.”

  “Why?” Lavender peered intently at Ron, waiting for an answer.

  His cheeks were flushed as he shook his head, eyes darting to the boy’s staircase as if he was looking for an escape.

  “Er, no reason…”

  “Won-Won,” warned Lavender.

  “I—er, I think I was supposed to go with Hermione tonight.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Lavender sensed his immediate attempt to backpedal the conversation before he even spoke. He was already standing and moving around to the backside of the sofa. Even as he attempted an explanation, Lav gathered the impression that he was trying to convince himself more so than her.

  “Well, she never officially asked me! Besides, we got into a huge row, and now I’m with you, so it doesn’t matter. Look, Lav, I’m tired, and I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Without another word, Ron disappeared up the boy’s staircase, which left Lavender on the sofa, reeling at his words. How had she not known that Hermione had asked him—or tried to ask him—to the party?  He wasn’t trying to get back at Hermione by using Lavender, was he?

  No, that’s ridiculous! He fancies you! You wouldn’t have spent a whole month together if he was trying to get back at your roommate. 

  Lavender pushed her discomfort over Ron’s actions to the back of her mind. She’d know if he wasn’t interested. He probably just misses his friend. It was really a shame Hermione couldn’t be happy for Ron, or Lavender for that matter. But Lav wasn’t going to do anything about it, not while she had Ron all to herself. Maybe she was being selfish, but Ron was her boyfriend, and she intended to keep it that way.

♚

5 January 1997

  Said I’m fine, but it wasn’t true

I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you

~Cruel Summer

  Lavender was chomping at the bit to spend time with Ron upon their return to Hogwarts the Sunday after New Years, but obligations kept getting in the way. Apparently, Ron was busy with rounds and Prefect meetings during the entire train ride back to the castle, and then Harry had scheduled a team meeting after dinner. She’d given up the hope of seeing him that evening and settled on waiting for him to go down to breakfast the next morning. 

  Lavender hoped Ron wasn’t embarrassed because he never bought her a Christmas gift. They were only together for a month, and there wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend where he could have gone to buy her anything anyways. And since Harry was staying with the Weasleys, she assumed there were more safety wards in place, so the chances he could get to Diagon Alley to shop for her were slim too. 

  It’s not like she intended on getting him a gift, either, but when she saw the opportunity to get two lockets at buy one get one free, she couldn’t resist. She’d purchased one for Parvati’s gift, and her mother had always taught her to never pass up a deal, so she’d had the locket engraved with ‘Won-Won’ and sent it to him for Christmas.

  When Ron came barreling down the stairs the next morning, Lavender was so excited that she pounced on him, which caused him to flail backwards and almost topple over. 

  “Won-Won!” She left a sloppier than intended kiss on his cheek as he turned his face.

  “Hey, Lav. Er, sorry about yesterday.”

  “It’s fine, are you ready for breakfast?”

  He nodded as they exited the portrait hole. They were halfway to the Great Hall when Lavender attempted to engage him in conversation again. She knew he wasn’t a morning person, but she wasn’t willing to wait another few hours.

  “So, how were your holidays?”

  “Huh? Oh, they were good. Yours?”

  “Wonderful! I love going home for Christmas. My younger brother was so excited to see me. I picked out a toy broom for his gift this year, and he spent the whole two weeks riding on it! I was so sad to say goodbye to him again, but Easter will be here before we know it. Maybe you can come home and meet my family for Easter hols.”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.”

  Lavender could sense from Ron’s lackluster response that he wasn’t paying attention. So, she followed his gaze, and of course, there was Hermione, most likely darting off to the library or wherever she went to avoid her former best friend. Her blood boiled at the way she was treating Ron. At least that’s what she was telling herself. She certainly wasn’t jealous of the way Ron was watching her.

  Lavender reached up and gently turned his face back to focus on her. “Did you like your gift?”

  “Y-yeah, it’s great.”

  “Are you wearing it?” Her hand slid down to feel his chest. Maybe it was concealed under his uniform.

  “Er, no. I—uh—I’ve got it tucked away under my pillow for safekeeping.”

  “Why? You aren’t embarrassed of us, are you?”

  “N-no! I just like to—uh—keep it close when I’m sleeping so I can dream of you!”

  Lavender suppressed a laugh at his attempt to give an excuse to not wear it. It was sweet, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. She threw her arms around him and squealed in response to his reasoning. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel uncomfortable, so Lavender figured a positive reaction would make him feel better about the whole ordeal.

  “That’s so sweet, Won-Won! I’m glad you liked it!”

  His face turned a blotchy red as they entered the hall and found a seat at the Gryffindor table. Lavender chose not to press the issue anymore as she turned to her thoughts instead. Maybe the locket wasn’t the best idea to give a boyfriend of only a month. But she’d never felt this way before. Seamus had been a fun fling, but with Ron, she felt different. He made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and she hoped she hadn’t given him the wrong impression with the gift. 

  She’d just have to make it up to him in other ways. Yes, that was it. Lavender would make sure he knew how much she cared while also making sure his eye didn’t continue wandering toward her roommate and his former best friend.

  ♚

14 February 1997

  Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

~Lover

  Lavender sat alone in the empty classroom, waiting for Ron to show up after rounds. Rounds! Why did he have to have rounds today, of all days?  It was completely and utterly unfair. He promised her he’d meet her in the empty classroom near Gryffindor tower as soon as rounds were over, but it was already ten past eleven, and he was nowhere to be found.

  She hadn’t gotten him anything this time for fear it might embarrass him again, just like the locket. Oh yes, she’d heard Harry telling Neville about his Christmas present while she was searching for a book in the library, and she heard every excruciating detail of how mortified Ron was by it. Apparently, it wasn’t under his pillow after all. It was hidden in the bottom of his trunk. So, for Valentine’s Day, she opted to give him something he could hang onto in his mind instead. 

  At least, that’s what she planned. Lavender took to pacing the classroom for another ten minutes before resigning to the fact that Ron wasn’t coming. A pang of disappointment rippled out from her heart, and she tried to convince herself that maybe he’d forgotten. But ever since they’d returned from Christmas hols, she felt Ron pulling further and further away. Before the two week break, they’d gone off to spend time together every night, snogging in empty classrooms and broom closets, and sometimes even a late-night walk around the castle. Now, she was lucky if she could pry him away from his studies twice a week to spend some quality time together. 

  Sure, they ate meals together and sat next to each other in their shared classes, but it wasn’t like they ever talked that much. Come to think of it, every time she’d try to ask about his life, he’d always deflect to her. And of course, Lavender never had a problem finding something to talk about with her family because she wanted to share everything she could with Ron. Yet now, she was wondering if he actually cared or if he was just being polite.

  Thoughts consumed her mind as she walked silently back to Gryffindor tower. By the time she entered the common room, it was deserted. Part of her thought about checking to see if Ron was back in the dorms, but the other side told her it wasn’t worth it. It’d be his own fault if he got caught sneaking around after hours without her since he’d ditched her on what was supposed to be the most romantic night of the year. 

  The last thing she wanted to do was go up to her dorm and face Hermione’s smug look when she found out Ron ditched his girlfriend tonight, but she wasn’t about to hang around the common room like a rejected piece of garbage. 

  Ron is still yours. Not hers. Even if tonight didn’t go as planned, still make her remember that.

  So, when she entered the girl’s sixth-year dorm, Lavender plastered a smile on her face. Parvati was sitting on her bed while Hermione’s curtains were closed tight.

  “Hey! I was wondering when you were going to show up. Have a good night?”

  “Oh, it was the best!” Lavender gushed. “Ron was so sweet and romantic. He gave me some chocolate frogs, which I know are his favorite, and I gave him...well, you know.”

  She made her voice sound as suggestive as possible, and if Hermione was listening, then that was her own fault.

  “I need to freshen up now. I’m rather sweaty from all that we got up to. And then I should head to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning, Par, I promise. Ron thoroughly wore me out, I’m exhausted.”

  What neither girl realized, though, was that Lavender let out a good cry in the shower instead. Because her boyfriend ditched her on her favorite day of the year.

  ♚

2 March 1997

  Cause I can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not

It’s death by a thousand cuts

~Death by a Thousand Cuts

  “I’m sure he’s just on a lot of potions, Lav. I wouldn’t think too much of it.”

  Parvati was attempting to comfort her best friend. Lavender had had a rotten weekend. Ron was poisoned yesterday, on his birthday of all days! Not that the day mattered. He was still poisoned, and he could have died!

  What did make it worse was that nobody thought to tell her until well into the afternoon. She’d burst into the Hospital Wing to find his best friend, sister, and her sitting vigil at his bedside. Lavender didn’t think she’d ever been so livid in her life. And then he’d croaked something out in his sleep that sounded like a name, but it was not hers.

  She felt the entire relationship slipping through her fingers. When did things start to take a turn for the worse? What went wrong? Surely he still fancied her because if he didn’t, then why hadn’t he called things off?

  Because he does still fancy you. Of course, he does! Don’t worry about her. She means nothing to him. 

  Lavender tried with all her might to believe it, but it was becoming harder and harder every day. And despite her best friend’s attempts to make her feel better, it wasn’t doing any good. Parvati wasn’t outside the Hospital Wing with Lav when she overheard Ron talking to Harry and asking for Quidditch magazines. There was no question that he was awake, but as soon as she walked in, Ron ‘magically’ appeared to be sleeping again. And Harry had the audacity to cover for him!

  She’d tried to go see him two more times that day, and both times he was ‘sleeping.’ Something happened, and he was avoiding her, and it hurt. But how could she call him out on it when he was ‘asleep’? 

  She thought about whether she should confide in Parvati or just internalize her feelings. Parvati had been there through everything, but Lavender decided she wasn’t ready to bring up her speculations until she had more proof. So instead, Lavender chose to keep her thoughts to herself.

  Did she want to break things off with Ron? No. Was she willing to do what it took to keep him around? Yes. So, Lavender resolved to do whatever it took to keep Ron interested. She’d back off, not be as needy, and keep things cool and breezy. They could make this work. She was sure of it.

   ♚

2 April 1997

  And I don’t want you to (go) I don’t really wanna (fight)

‘Cause nobody’s gonna (win) I just thought you should know

~Miss Americana and the Heart Break Prince

  Lavender entered the common room after Divination to see Ron sitting on the couch next to Harry. The two were furiously scribbling on parchment, and Lavender couldn't help but roll her eyes at what she assumed to be a last-minute attempt to finish one of his assignments. Even so, she figured she’d surprise him and see if he could be persuaded to take a break and go for a walk instead.

  She dropped her bag behind the sofa and covered Ron’s eyes with her hands. “Guess who!”

  “Oi!” Ron flung his arms back, sending ink droplets flying over his and Harry’s parchment, as well as the table and upholstery of the sofa in the process.

  Lavender ripped her hands off his eyes and apologized with a pout. “It’s only me, Won-Won. I just wanted to surprise you.”

  “Oh, er, sorry, Lav. I’m busy right now. I need to finish Snape’s Defense essay.” 

  The words sounded apologetic, but the lack of sympathy in Ron’s expression caused unease to bubble up in Lavender’s stomach. Usually, he’s better about hiding his disinterest in showing affection around his friends. But the way he’d acted just now made her feel like he was downright repulsed by an innocent touch.

  “But that essay isn’t due until tomorrow. I still have to put the final touches on mine as well. Maybe we could go for a walk now and work on it together after dinner?”

  Sure, the snogging was brilliant, but that’s all they ever seemed to do. She wanted to make things work between them, and after five months, she knew they’d never have a successful relationship if it stayed strictly physical. Besides, that clearly wasn’t working in an effort to keep him interested anymore.

  “Sorry, Lav, I can’t. I’ve got rounds tonight.”

  Another pang of hurt emanated in her chest at his rejection. “Oh, well, maybe I could work on it with you now, then?”

  She knew what his answer was going to be before he said anything. He was already packing up his things. 

  “Er, maybe on another assignment. I’ve got to hit the library before dinner and see if I can find one more source. I’ll meet up with you later, though, yeah?”

  Ron was already out of his seat and headed for the door without bothering to wait for a response, which further solidified Lavender’s suspicion that it was an offer he didn’t intend to follow through on. Ordinarily, she would have given him the benefit of the doubt, but it’d been three weeks of him avoiding her ever since he and Hermione had reconciled. With a heavy sigh, she picked up her bag and headed for the girl’s dormitory, where she passed Hermione on the stairwell.

  “Let me guess, Ron’s busy?” Parvati asked, saving Lavender from having to retell the excuse.

  “Yeah. He has rounds tonight, I guess.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Hermione has rounds tonight, too. Padma said they switched back for the month.”

  Lavender felt as though a fifty-pound weight had been placed on her chest as her heart constricted at Parvati’s news. She knew this was coming but refused to believe it, choosing instead to turn a blind eye to all the signs. A tear escaped out of the corner of her eye as she tried to come to terms with the fact that no matter what she did, Hermione was going to win. Which led her to wonder whether Ron had ever truly been hers at all.

  Well, good. If Ron’s not interested anymore, then he can be a man and break things off. And if he’s too much of a coward to do it on his own, then I’ll do everything in my power to help push him along, all while reminding Hermione that he’s still mine in the process.

Maybe it was spiteful, but Lavender no longer cared. Deep down, she knew their relationship was probably doomed from the start, but that didn’t lessen the pain. Perhaps she never stood a chance, especially knowing his relationship with Hermione never was a typical friendship, but Ron could have told her no all those months ago if that was the case. Their fleeting relationship may have come to pass, but at least Lavender had the memories of time spent together to look back on when he had cared. Because he had cared once, right?

[bopbopstyles]

3. More Than a Song

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.7k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: prepare for ANGST! and dunkirk premiere harry aka one of his best looks ever :) also thank u to @havethetimeofyourstyles for making my line breaks bc i’m inept at making things xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

“Baby,” Harry said, turning to her from where he stood in his closet. “Can you help me with my collar? I can’t get it.”

Y/N set down her phone—she was ready first, which wasn’t surprising considering it took Harry ages to get ready, partially because he kept getting distracted with her. He’d touch her, run his hands all over her, ask if he could get her out of her lingerie, and she’d have to remind him that she’d barely even had it on and they had an important event. “Sure.”

Harry looked dashing—he always did. After much debate, they had decided on a simple white silk short-sleeved button down and a pair of flared black pants, cool enough for May in LA, but still perfectly Harry. Y/N had painted his nails last night a pastel purple while they had watched a documentary about sheep—which Harry had selected—and the color popped against the neutrals of the rest of the outfit. Shoes were still up in the air, but Y/N was trying to get him to wear the yellow loafers he’d gotten recently, the ones she was so obsessed with she was considering stealing for herself.

Somehow Harry always managed to mess up his collars before big nights, the nerves probably getting to him. Y/N smoothed the material on his shoulders to relax him before popping up his collar and folding it back down crisply. “There you go.” In the mirror in front of Harry, her eyes trailed down his body, from his sweet curls she had labored over styling in the bathroom, to the recently tailored pants he wore. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, a smile dancing onto Harry’s face at the action. “Nervous, bubs?”

He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Bit. More for you to hear it than anyone else.”

The honesty of his statement brought butterflies to her tummy. Harry had been in and out of meetings for the past few months getting together the release of his debut album and putting the final touches on it, but at no point had he let her hear it. She suspected it was because he was scared she’d hate it, but when she asked her dad about it, he told her to think about it as his journal. His journal of a past that Y/N hadn’t been a part of. That had made Y/N understand a bit better, the prospect of being nervous of what she’d think of him more the worry than a worry of what she’d think of the music. So she nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, careful not to get lipstick on the fabric, and told him, “I’m going to love it. It’ll be perfect, just like you.”

Harry’s arms wrapped backwards so he could hold her to him and they stood there, holding one another, basking in each other’s presence before everyone else arrived. It had been a busy couple months for them to start a relationship—Y/N was swamped at work, her boss having left so she had to take on extra work, and Harry was releasing his album, Dunkirk was coming out in the summer, and his tour started in the fall. It was a lot to say the least, and Y/N tried not to think about it too often because she’d get all in her head and ignore Harry’s texts for hours until he called her and asked her if she wanted gummy worms or Hershey’s for movie night. Then, she’d remind herself that they were doing good—really good, even. Better than other relationships that she had been in for this long. Usually this was when she got bored, but with Harry she kept falling for him more and more every day they spent with each other.

He was like a drug, and she was addicted.

“We should head down,” Y/N said, brushing back from him. “Wear the yellow ones, yeah?”

He mumbled something under his breath about her being bossy and coming for Lambert’s job and she snorted, leaving him in the walk-in closet to straighten himself out. Her phone in her hand, she slipped on her heels, a summer sandal with a platform so her feet didn’t hurt, the perfect compliment to her flowing sundress she’d selected for the release party. When Harry had seen it he’d promptly asked if she could take it off so he could ravish her, so she decided it was a good choice. It emphasized her curves in a way that made her feel confident and she’d pinned her hair over one shoulder, the earrings Harry had gotten her for their three-month anniversary on display.

Re-emerging, Harry rolled his eyes over her body and she gave him a soft smile at the way his eyes screamed with desire. “See something you like?”

“Fuck yes,” he cursed. “Can’t wait to have you all to myself later.” Hands in hers, he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, the kind that made her toes curl, before pulling back. “C’mon, Azoff is yelling at me over text about being late to my own party.”

“It’s literally downstairs,” she pointed out. “He’s just mad he can’t embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Harry laughed, arm tucked around her waist as they descended the stairs of his house. He’d bought it at the end of February, a birthday gift to himself, and Y/N had thought to herself at the time that it wasn’t about her, it was about him. But it was kind of hard whenever he had her help him pick out all the furniture, making sure she approved of the colors he painted the walls and the patio furniture.

Downstairs, the party was in full force. Harry hadn’t invited too many people, mostly the same crowd as his birthday. Since it was at his house, he was hesitant to give the address out to too many people, but ultimately he wanted to be able to do whatever the fuck he wanted to celebrate, no paps around. Also, it was hot and he had a pool, so he had told everyone to bring a swimsuit just in case they wanted to take a dip. Y/N had persuaded him to keep it simple and they’d ordered pizza from his favorite place and she made some a ton of margaritas for everyone to help themselves to. Jeff was left in charge of the door when Harry was late finishing getting dressed, and she could tell that he had done a fine job. The tunes were going, people were drinking, and everyone seemed happy. He had even put the album countdown that Y/N had spent two hours making that morning on the TV.

“Stay close to me, please?” Harry asked her, bending his head to whisper in her ear when they reached the group.

Y/N nodded, and Harry began happily talking to Jeff. Y/N started up a conversation with another one of the Full Stop employees who had come who she’d met at a brunch a few weeks ago, plucking some details from her brain about her boyfriend to check-in about. Then, a familiar face flashed in the crowd. “Hanna!”

Harry had suggested the idea of inviting her best friends to the party and Y/N had leapt at the idea. The prospect of having her two favorite people be there with her to celebrate her boyfriend was her idea of a perfect night. Hanna’s red hair popped up, her smile giddy from seeing Y/N. Cutting through the crowd, she quickly made it to Y/N, who wrapped her best friend up in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said. “Find it okay?”

Hanna nodded. “Security at the gate did not want to let me in though. Jamie is on his way—Cole called while he was walking out the door.” Jamie and Cole had been together for years and Y/N decided the first time she met Cole that there wasn’t anyone better for Jamie, and Jamie seemed to agree. “How are you?”

“Amazing,” Y/N replied and she truly was. She felt like she was on cloud nine right now, the energy bouncing off of Harry absorbing into every one of her pores. “Excited to finally hear it.”

“You should be.” Hanna leaned over and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

His attention shifted from some work-related conversation with Jeff quickly over to his girlfriend’s best friend. “Oh, hello Hanna,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No place I’d rather be,” Hanna replied. “Now can I steal Y/N?”

Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N, but he gave her a warm smile. “‘Course.”

Y/N followed her best friend out onto the patio, giving hugs and saying hello to the friends of Harry’s she’d met during the past few months of them being together. Harry watched her with awe at how well she had fit into his life, she’d succeeded faster than any other girl he’d ever dated. The tidbits of information she remembered and the way she made an effort to be present in the conversations, her deep knowledge of music and the industry coming in handy. He loved having a girl at her side who knew what all of his team did without him having to explain it to her. It was small, but it made a difference to him.

“H,” Mitch said, pulling his gaze from his girlfriend back to the conversation he’d been having with Mitch, Adam, and Sarah. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking a sip of the margaritas Y/N had made for the party. She’d slaved over them all day while he was on calls and doing interviews and he appreciated it so much. He reminded himself to tell her later when he had her alone and could tell her properly.

Sarah smiled at him knowingly. “He’s just looking at Y/N, as usual.”

Mitch and Adam chuckled, but Harry frowned. “Am I not allowed to look at my girl?”

“You are,” Adam said, “just be careful, mate. You told us about the rule, remember?”

The Rule. The goddamn rule that controlled this relationship more than he felt like he did, sometimes. He didn’t know how much Y/N thought about it at this point in their relationship, but then again it was still technically pretty early in the grand scheme of things. But for him, it was a constant reminder than their time together was fleeting, that at any point she might want to leave him, his lifestyle too hard. And it’s not that he blamed her. He just hated that it was a possibility. “I know.”

“How’s it going?” Adam pressed. Harry had been distant these past few weeks, holing himself up in the house with Y/N every chance he got when they weren’t rehearsing and he wasn’t on a call. It was hectic and he knew that his friends worried about him.

Harry took another sip of his margarita, eyes finding Y/N out on the patio laughing with Hanna, hair blowing in the wind. “Been good. She seems really happy,” he continued at the sight of her smile. “Bit nervous about tonight, if I’m being honest though.” He’d told Y/N the same thing, but the pit in his stomach still lingered. She had said she was excited, but he didn’t know how she would react to him releasing an album full of songs about his exes and flings.

They all got it though. “About which song?”

“All of ‘em,” he said nervously, and it was true. Y/N came into his life after the album was done, the idea of adding a song about her impossible. Even though he could’ve written dozens—he already had, the voice memos on his phone to prove it. Sometimes he’d sneak away to the bathroom while she slept to sing something that popped into his head, and the few that he’d shown the band they liked. It was all material for the next album, they told him. Some of them had even become full-fledged songs after a few hours locked in his office, but he hadn’t shared them yet. They still felt too raw.

Sarah reached out a hand and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll get it, H. Her dad’s a musician, you know? If there was anyone who would understand, it would be her.”

And she was probably right. But there was a feeling in his gut that Harry couldn’t shake—that tonight wouldn’t end well for them. He’d felt it when he had woken up this morning and no matter how many time he kissed Y/N to make it go away, it lingered and it was making his brain go wild.

He hoped it was just the nerves.

The night passed quickly. There were speeches, a cake, Jeff pulled out a bottle of champagne, and Y/N had rejoined Harry at his side for the most part. And at this party, there was no question as to who she was—to everyone she was “Y/N, my girlfriend,” and Harry loved it. Particularly the look on her face that she would get every once in a while when her eyes caught his. He didn’t know what to call it, but he just knew that he felt the same way.

Before he knew it, it was 11:59 and everyone had gathered in the living room. The TV had the countdown on that Y/N had designed, the album cover with the numerical countdown over it, another bottle of champagne in Harry’s hand, ready to pop. Y/N stood a few people away from him, watching him with that look in her eyes that she’d been giving him all night that made him weak in the knees and made him curious what she would do to him when they were upstairs. He knew why Y/N was keeping her distance right now—she had mentioned it once before when they were curled up in bed after Harry asked her to be put down as a co-host for the party, that this success was his and his alone. That she was here at the end and she wanted it to be all his. She was here to support him and give him kisses after, but it was all his.

“10, 9, 8.” This was it. It was Harry’s debut album, his first solo record. It was weird for the rest of the guys to not be here when an album dropped. Usually, they were all standing together with bottles of champagne, ready to celebrate with one another.

“7, 6, 5, 4.” And Harry didn’t know which one was worse and which was better. Maybe they were both equally as wonderful, because he had other friends here to stand by his side. Jeff, Sarah, Mitch, Adam. James, floating around somewhere. His mum and sister tried to be here but Gemma got sick and Anna wanted to stay behind to take care of her.  

“3, 2,” He had Y/N. He had Y/N’s excited expression, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, the look of pride on her face that he treasured.

“1!” But this was his, his success, his win. With the first notes of the album playing in the room, he popped the bottle of champagne and with the bubbles running down the side of the bottle, he took a long swig.

Cheers went up around him, his best friends celebrating his biggest success of his career thus far, one he’d fought long and hard for. One he was immensely proud of and he hoped he would always look back on fondly. And the sound of his album blaring in his house’s sound system—the sound of Meet Me in the Hallway, it brought him to tears.

“Aww, man,” Adam brought him into a hug, patting Harry softly on his back. “Y/N! Come here!”

Y/N was there in an instant, wrapping Harry up in her arms, his head falling onto her shoulder, sobs wracking his body as they stood there. He didn’t even care that his friends were all there witnessing him crying into his girlfriend’s shoulder, he was just so overwhelmed.

“You okay, bubs?” Y/N asked, petting the back of his head softly.

“It’s a lot,” he replied softly, trying to find the words. “Happy. But also just…”

Her hands ran up and down his back, rubbing circles. “I know, baby. You don’t need to explain, okay?”

Harry didn’t reply, just tried to find his breath and stop the tears that were welling in his eyes. And when he did, he lifted his head and his lips met Y/N’s, the sound of whoops and cat-calls breaking out around them. The middle finger that Harry raised to them all did nothing to stifle them either. “Thank you,” he said into her hair when they broke.

The feeling of her lips on his neck, a soft kiss, brought him to his knees. “Always.”

And Harry hoped it was true.

While the rest of the party swirled around her—dancing had broke out, James had started making themed drinks, his favorite being the Sign of the Times one—Y/N sat right in front of the speaker, listening to every word of the album. It was her first time hearing it and she knew Harry would probably play it for her later, but she wanted to hear it now. She wanted to hear his pride and joy, the thing that had him beaming and laughing with his friends, belting out the lyrics with Mitch and Adam in a conga line that was worming its way through the room.

And what she heard broke her heart in so many ways.

Y/N knew that music, and much of art, stemmed from pain and hurt. A good amount of it was also about love, but the songs that were some of the rawest, the ones that hit home for most people, were the ones about our darkest moments. Harry’s album was full of them. Heartbreak, heartache, regrets, addiction to people and things. It was chock full of every one of his deepest darkest secrets, especially the women who he had loved before he met her. There was a part of her that knew that he would tell her in his own time about the stories of some of these women—he had mentioned a few when she’d asked about them—and that she didn’t need to push, but there was this disgusting, self-sabotaging part of her that wanted to know every sordid detail, even though she knew it would hurt her.

This was one of the many reasons she had always told herself she would never date a musician, but more importantly that she would never fall for one. Because their relationship, their joys and pitfalls, heartache and brightest moments, it was all fodder for a song, an album, a career. It wasn’t the artist’s fault, that’s how it worked, but that didn’t make it any easier to be the person they were writing about.

Was that all she was? Another girl for Harry to write a song about?

She wanted to be happy for him, to be glowing and beaming for him, but the part of her that she hated, the part that conjured the worst possible parts of people, it was crawling out of her head. It was twisting Harry and she knew it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t believe it.

The album only lasted 40 minutes, but in those 40 minutes the party died down. People had jumped in the pool while Y/N sat by the speaker, they had finished their drinks, they had said their goodbyes, the object of the event passed. Hanna and Jamie came over and gave her hugs, concerned looks on their faces, and told her to call them if she needed anything. When she looked up, the last notes of From the Dining Table fading, it was just her left.

A light from the patio twinkled and she could see the water rippling under the moonlight. Harry.

She left the stereo silent, not cuing up another playlist, and tugged off her shoes, then her dress. Following the pull of the man who had written such a beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful record, she walked to the patio.

“There you are.” He was floating on his back in just his boxers, which didn’t surprise Y/N in the slightest. The fairy lights they had strung up together were dim in the nighttime darkness, but just bright enough so she could see Harry and all his beauty. “Look bloody gorgeous, love.”

Y/N tucked her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, knotting the hair so it stayed. “Finished the album,” she said, walking to the water’s edge.

“Yeah?” Harry swam over to her, leaning his head on her thighs that rested on the concrete that lined the pool. “What’d you think?”

She couldn’t help the heartbroken smile that graced her features, because she was too tired to lie to him. Exhausted from trying to pretend that she didn’t think about the fact that he could leave her at any moment, that the insecurities of who she was and who he was didn’t catch up to her sometimes. His fingertips brushed at her cheeks and Y/N realized she was crying.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He hoisted himself out of the water and hooked one of his legs around her waist, pulling her into his wet skin. It was cold against the night air, but somehow Harry was still warm to her.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she said slowly, struggling to find her words.

Fingers drifted up and down her back. “Just do your best.”

She tried not to think about the fact that she was crying on his album release day, that they were having this conversation now. One that sat in the back of her mind when she was alone and Harry couldn’t banish it. “The album is beautiful, Harry,” she started, “but it’s about a past that I wasn’t a part of.” Harry was quiet, but his arms didn’t move from their place around her, so she forged on. “I know that artists write from their experience, and that this album was done before I met you, but there’s this part of me, this horrible part that I utterly despise, that is jealous of them. The women who you wrote about. And the fact that it’s them that you’re going to sing about on stage every night. Does that make sense?”

The brush of his chin against her spine showed her that yes, he understood.

“And,” she continued, voice breaking, “I can’t stop thinking about the fact that maybe I’m going to be a song.”

“Of course you’re going to be a song,” Harry said, his voice soft and sweet.

He didn’t get it. To him, being a song was an honor, but to her, it was a threat almost. “No—it’s that I’m going to be only a song.”

The man next to her didn’t say a word. The chirp of the crickets stretched between their bodies, which were still close on the concrete floor, not a muscle moved.

“I don’t want to only be a song.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse, sobs wracking her body she didn’t expect, didn’t want. She couldn’t have this conversation if she was crying, but she couldn’t hold them in either. It was her biggest fear, the one that festered below all of the others, threatening to consume the relationship she had with a man she was falling for. And falling was the only way to describe it—without any support, a free fall that was utterly terrifying but also blissful peaceful.

Suddenly, his fingers swept across her neck, brushing against her sensitive skin. “Y/N,” he whispered, “you could never be just a song. You’re—you’re like the stars and the moon to me. In that room I could always feel you, wherever you were, and I didn’t want to be anywhere where you weren’t. And maybe this is too fast and too soon, but what I feel for you, fuck Y/N how can you not see how much you are to me?”

He pulled her head so she faced him, his eyes teary to match her own. “Do you hear me? You’re so much more than a song. You’re an album. You’re my life’s work, my masterpiece, a symphony. A song can’t contain how I feel for you, it’s just a piece of a billion I could write.”

Soft as a feather, his lips pressed to her cheeks and then up and across her forehead, over her eyelids, barely leaving a mark but a searing fire in his wake that shook Y/N’s core. “And Y/N, you’re better than a song. You’re my life. You’re here, you’re real, you’re with me. Y/N, you will never be just a song to me. You never could be. Not to me.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his, inhaling his cologne and exhaling her feelings for him. He managed to rip down all her defenses, the ones she had spent years building up, and it was frightening. But then she looked at him, the way he smiled at her, the way he kissed her, the way he said her name, and it wasn’t quite as scary. She hoped he could feel how much she cared for him in the way she kissed him, their tears blending into one as they scrambled for each other. Lips breaking and meeting, desperate for more and more and more. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, holding him to her, wanting to have his whole body imprinted on hers.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “you heard me? You understand?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, “I hear you.” She brushed her fingers through his hair gently, curling the wet strands back. “You may need to remind me sometimes.”

“Always,” he whispered, catching her kiss with his own, tugging her into him, arms around her body in a vice grip.

She lost herself in Harry, him an ocean and her a boat lost at sea. Maybe it was their conversation or the night or the alcohol flowing through their veins, but it felt different. The way he kissed her felt heavier, her moans a prayer, his fingers on his back a weight she never wanted lifted. Her legs wrapped around his waist so she was firmly in his lap, arms thrown over his shoulders, their bare bodies except for their underwear pressed against each other without a molecule of air between them.

His lips drew a line across the top of her shoulder, a fire building in her belly as his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra. It was a light pink she’d worn just for him and when he nudged at the strap with his nose, letting it slip from her shoulders, she didn’t care that he could barely see it. She’d show him tomorrow morning. He pulled the fabric away and bent his head, licking at one of her nipples and then the other, gasps falling from her mouth like poetry. Without meaning to, her hips rolled over his cock, the thin fabric of their underwear doing nothing to keep the heat of her center from touching his sensitive skin.

He moaned her name, the sound muffled against her neck as he sucked a love bite into the spot that made her keen every time he nipped into it. She rocked again on him, his fingers digging into her skin so hard it would leave marks tomorrow but she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted to have his marks on her tomorrow, she wanted to show the world that she wasn’t just a song, she was his, she was his girlfriend and she made him feel this way.

Hands on skin, he pressed her down onto the concrete so she was lying down, her ankles tucked around his hips, anchoring her to him. When his hips bucked into hers, she let out a sharp cry, the angle brushing her clit perfectly. “Right there?” He mumbled, nipping and tugging on her nipple, laving a circle that left her squirming against the concrete.

“Off,” she whispered, tugging at his boxers with her hands. “Wanna feel you.” With his help, they shimmied off his boxers without too much difficulty and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when she could feel his cock brush against her covered folds. Reaching a hand down, she brushed the pad of her thumb across his tip, a pained hiss flying from Harry’s throat. He was sensitive and Y/N loved it.

They didn’t have a condom, but she didn’t care. She’d been on birth control for years and she knew Harry hadn’t slept with anyone else since she found her way into his life. Plus, she needed him—she wanted to feel him, raw and bare inside of her.

They were going to have sex on the concrete next to his pool, but she didn’t care. They had had sex before and they would have sex again. She just needed him in a desperate, crawling way. When he nudged at her underwear she pressed into him, letting him pull them down her legs without a second thought.

“Condom,” Harry mumbled as she chased after his lips, open mouthed and heavy.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Want you like this.”

Harry’s head dropped to the space between her neck and shoulder, the groan that filled the air unlike anything she had heard before. “Gonna ruin me,” he whispered, brushing his cock against her folds. Y/N whimpered at the sensation, her fingers begging him for more, for anything she would give him. When his fingers brushed her clit, his name tumbled from her lips without abandon.

“Harry, please,” she panted, fingers deep in his hair.

That was all it took. She was so wet from the foreplay and just him that he didn’t even need to stretch her out. Her mouth fell open as he pushed inside, a mewl landing on his lips as he kissed her. Slowly, he pulled out and then back in, both of them groaning from the sensation of him being bare inside her. He felt impossibly close, every ridge and edge of him pressing against her in the most perfect way. She didn’t know if she could use condoms again, because holding Harry to her chest, arms around his shoulders as he fucked slowly, deeply, into her, her able to feel every inch of her, it was bliss on a new level. A sensation she didn’t know she was missing with him.

Her ankles hitched higher on his hips and when he pushed back in he hit a new angle, a groan ripping from his throat that set her on fire. “Can I go faster?” He said with a grunt. “I—I don’t know how much—“

“Yes,” she whimpered at his words.

He didn’t wait. He drew back and into her, pistoning his hips at a pace she couldn’t even describe, hitting that spot deep inside of her that made her eyes roll back over and over. How he managed to do that she didn’t know, but he deserved an award. Fingers grabbing at his skin in desperation for something to hold her together, Y/N gasped and exhaled his name, a plea and a beg and a prayer all in one. Her back hurt from the concrete but she didn’t care, she just wanted to finish, to feel him release deep inside of her.

Then he thumbed over her clit and she arched up, back leaving the concrete as the fire deep within her threatened to bubble over. When he start brushing circles there, Y/N gripped his shoulders like they would keep her anchored to Earth, her body possibly transcending. Harry bent his head and sucked a love bite on her breast, the puncture of skin forcing her head back, unable to keep it together.

“You close?” He asked, littering her chest with kisses, “Please tell me you are, I can’t, I can’t hold on…”

She mumbled a yes as he drove deep inside of her, swiveling his hips in a brutal way that left her hands squeezing his butt cheeks to get him to do it again. When he did, she swore she saw stars. “Gonna come,” she said, eyes searching for his lips in the low lighting. “Kiss?”

Without hesitation, he kissed her, open mouthed and dirty and sloppy and perfect. She wanted every rough-edged and sweet part of him, every kiss and press of his body against hers. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he chanted as he pressed into her again and again, her body drawing tighter and tighter. Then, he pinched her clit and she came, the ball in her tummy unravelling, hips bucking up against him as she rode out her high. Her eyes stayed trained on him as she did, not wanting to miss his face when he came inside of her.

His hips stuttered, release unloading inside of her in ropes that left him cursing like a sailor. Hair wet and sweaty, sticking to his forehead, and irises blown out, he looked beautiful. She held him close until his body settled, shaking as he came down from his high, forehead resting on the swell of her breasts.

Slowly, he rolled off of her, tugging her body into his so she wasn’t on the cold concrete anymore. He was fiery hot and it kept her warm in the cold air. “Can we never use a rubber again?” He asked softly, and she giggled, hiding her face in his neck.

“Don’t see any reason to,” she replied and he hummed with joy. Tucking her hands under her chin, she looked at him with a smile. “Congrats on your album, baby.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. “I’m so happy I shared today with you.” She kissed him softly and let him hold her close, not wanting to move even to go to bed because it meant leaving his grasp. And as much as her head told her that it wasn’t forever, she couldn’t help but hope it would be.

It had been four days since Harry had texted her. Five since he called her. Six since they FaceTimed.

He was in London for the press junket for Dunkirk and Y/N was supposed to fly out for the July 13th premiere—it was decided a month ago, the tickets booked and her time off from work already approved. But as the days stretched on and the silence grew longer, she couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. If she had done something wrong.

It wasn’t the first time he had been away from LA. They had a conversation about how they were going to handle distance when he travelled back in April, before the album came out and he had to fly around and do press for two weeks. That time, though, he handled it well—he called every night before she went to bed if he could, if not, he sent a long voice memo that she listened to when she woke up. They texted all day, him sending photos from dressing rooms and backstage at talk shows, even FaceTiming her so she could meet the stars he shared the nights with.

But this time was different. Since he left he had texted her just a handful of times and it was when he was at his mom’s house visiting home before press started. And then once press kicked into gear, he was gone, her texts ignored, calls not returned. She was trying not to seem desperate, but with the more time that passed the more anxious she got. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t what they’d agreed on. He knew her fears, the dark thoughts that crowded in when she spent too much time worrying about their relationship, and yet he wasn’t taking the actions that helped her calm down. Even though she knew it wasn’t his responsibility to take care of her brain, it helped to know he thought about her, at the very least.

The morning before her flight was supposed to leave, she called Hanna in a panic. Her suitcases laid open on her bed, clothes scattered around her, tears streaming down her face. She had tried to call Harry again to confirm her arrival plans, only to be met with his voicemail, again.

Hi, you’ve reached Harry. I’ll give you a call back when I can!

Somehow, the sound of his voice made it worse.

“Han,” she choked out when her friend picked up, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Did he not answer?” Hanna had been counseling her through the whole thing, helping her stay calm and sane, as much as possible at least. From Y/N’s lack of response, just more sobs, Hanna knew immediately. “That prick.”

Y/N wiped a tear from her eye and looked at the ticket in her hand. Harry had forced her to accept his offer of first-class, booking her flight through his agent and everything. “Does he even want me there? Should I not go?”

Hanna was quiet, thoughts rolling through her head. “No,” she finally said. “You should go. Even if it’s just to talk to him in person. You deserve to hear it face-to-face, not by him ghosting you.”

“Even if that means I end up in London and he breaks up with me?”

“Yes,” Hanna replied softly. “But I really, really hope that is not what’s happening.”

At first it had been that he was busy, that he would text when he had time, but it had been six days. Now, both Y/N and Hanna were increasingly worried that it meant the end of their relationship and Y/N was simply not ready for that possibility. She had let Harry in—he had begged her to let him in—and he was going to end things like this? When things got hard with the distance he just…cut her out? “Can you take me to the airport?” Y/N asked, sniffling. “If you don’t I don’t think I’ll be able to force myself to go.”

“Was already planning on it,” Hanna replied. “I’ll bring snacks for the flight.”

“Love you,” Y/N told her. Hanna was her one constant, who knew Y/N better than she knew herself.

“Love you more. Now go finish packing and call me if you need me, okay?”

Y/N told her okay and hung up, her gaze shifting to her suitcase. If he was going to break up with her, then she was going to look so magnificent he would regret every second of it.

Eleven hours in the air meant plenty of time to run over her entire relationship with Harry. She had sat curled up in her seat scrolling through her camera roll and listening to Bon Iver, which was the sappiest thing possible and she didn’t care. Y/N didn’t want to break up with him and the photos and the texts and the memories proved it. Her time with Harry had been so beautifully bright, his presence in her life making so much better, from her confidence to her knowledge to her music taste. And she cared about him in a way she hadn’t let herself do—ever.

She had texted Jeff before she took off, telling him she couldn’t get a hold of Harry and asking where she should go when she landed. He replied with Harry’s Hampstead address and the door code, saying there was a key waiting for her, hidden in the garden, an apology on Harry’s behalf for how busy he had been. The words meant nothing, though, to Y/N. If Harry wanted to apologize he would have to do it in person, not through Jeff.

It was eleven by the time her Uber pulled up to Harry’s house and she thanked the driver as he tugged her luggage from the boot. She waited until he pulled away before she typed in the gate code, not wanting to reveal Harry’s security to anyone—she have been mad at him, but she still didn’t want anything happening to him. The door unlocked for her and she slid inside, shutting it quickly behind her. Pulling her suitcase behind her, she walked up the path, searching for the garden statue Jeff had told her the key was hiding under. When she found it, her fingers ran across the ridges as she made her way to the front door.

His house in LA was warm, it was the Harry she knew. But this house felt colder, the design modern, his personal affects not as visible. Although to his credit, he hadn’t been here for more than a few days in months. A few photos of Anne and Gemma were scattered through the front hall, some framed photos of his time in One Direction nestled between them.

“Harry?” She knew he wasn’t there, but the idea of walking into his house without checking felt too uncomfortable for her. She locked the door tightly behind her, typing in the security code Jeff had sent before re-arming it.

Y/N took her time exploring his house. She perused the main spaces, testing out the couches and peeking at his bookcases, studying the art lining the walls. Then she made her way upstairs to the bedrooms, running her fingers along the edges of his One Direction album plaques that lined the walls of his office, the ones from his debut still resting on the floor waiting to be hung. She found the guest bedrooms with ease and she spent a good five minutes standing on the landing deciding if she should go into his bedroom or set herself up in a guest one.

She settled on a guest bedroom. If he was going to break things off, she didn’t want to know what his bed felt like or smell his clothes or take a shower in his bathroom.

Instead, she showered in the guest bath, washing off the plane smell that lingered on her body. She dressed in shorts and a tank top, letting her hair air dry since she would have to just re-style it for the premiere later. Jeff hadn’t told her what time Harry would be back and she was ravenous, so she wandered downstairs to fix herself some lunch. To fill the silence in the house she turned on The 1975, playing the music from her laptop she had open on the counter as she cooked some pasta she had found in the cabinet. As she ate at his dining table, she tried not to think about the fact that this could be the last time she was in a space of Harry’s. The last time she sat on things he had picked out, the last time she rooted through his fridge, past his obnoxious green juices and leftovers since he hated eating out if he didn’t have to. Her fingers brushed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks.

Reaching down for her fork to take another bite, she suddenly heard the lock click in the front door and the security system begin to beep.

He was home.

She slid her bowl away from her and turned to look at the doorway, waiting to see his face for the first time in over a week. And when he appeared, she couldn’t the return the stretched across his face at the sight of her in his house. He looked the same and somehow that was worse. In a nice shirt from interviews this morning, his hair slightly tossed from running his fingers through it, the sheen on his upper lip from the heat outside. He looked like her Harry, but she didn’t know if he was hers anymore.

“Y/N!” His voice rebounded off the walls, filling her heart with a kind of hope that was crushing.

“Hi,” was all she could muster before looking back down at her pasta. An anger rose in her, replacing the hurt that had lingered for so many days. How could he pretend like everything was okay? How could he smile at her like he hadn’t been ignoring her for days, too busy to even check and see how her flight was?

His footsteps were heavy on the hardwood floors as he made his way over to her. “Baby? What is it?”

“Do you want to break up?” She asked, her question hard compared to his kind, gentle, tentative tone.

“What?” Harry dropped into the seat caddy-corner to the chair she sat in. “What are you talking about?”

She pushed away her bowl and looked him dead in the eye. “I haven’t heard from you in days, Harry. Days. I flew halfway across the world for you and you couldn’t even manage to check-in to see if I was alive?”

He flinched at her words, eyes dropping to the table they sat at. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, words barely audible above her heart beating a mile a minute, pulsing with anger.

“That’s not going to cut it,” she told him, standing up and taking her bowl to the sink. “You fucking ghosted me like I was a girl you’d just met. We’re about to celebrate six months together. And you know what this shit does to me.”

And he did. She could see in his eyes that he knew he was in the wrong, and yet he was quiet. “I was busy.”

“So was I! But I still found two seconds to text you asking how it was going, I found fifteen minutes before bed to call you, and I kept trying even though you couldn’t even manage to reply to me. You’re not that busy, Harry.”

He stood too, walking over to where she stood in his kitchen so that he was a few paces away from her. “I was in and out of interviews from morning to night and when I wasn’t, I was with the cast who I haven’t seen in almost a year. And when I wasn’t doing that Jeff was harassing me about tour details or I was sleeping. I’m sorry if my schedule didn’t allow me to talk to you at every second of the day, Y/N, but this is a huge moment for me and I had to focus on that.” His words were measured, but she could feel the tension rising between them, words unsaid bubbling over.

“And your career is more important than our relationship.” She nodded sarcastically, wiping her wet palms on the dish towel and turning to face him. “Got it, heard loud and clear.”

“Fuck—you know it’s not!” His hand ran through his locks and down his face, struggling to get a handle on his breathing.

“Harry,” she said, trying not to yell, “I’m not going to force you to stay in a relationship that you don’t want to put the time in for. But you know exactly what I need from you—I have been very clear. You know my fears and my insecurities, and you know what triggers them. We had a plan for how to deal with this, and you completely disregarded it!” Her voice rose at the end, the fact that he couldn’t even meet her eyes pushing all of her buttons. “Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”

His eyes met hers and she didn’t see the Harry she knew, the Harry who cared for her, the soft, gentle man. Instead, she saw someone who was pissed off and hurt and grasping at straws. “I can’t dance around your fears every moment of the day,” he said, voice spitting anger. “And I’m sorry if that breaks one of your rules,” the word hitting her in the face, “but you’re going to have to get over it because I can’t spend every second of the day wondering if something I did or said has made you think I don’t care about you! You should know that I don’t want to hurt you, that of course I want to be with you!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me!” His words stabbed her right where it hurt, hitting her fears right in the heart.

Harry turned, his body facing the counter, fingers gripping the edge of the marble. He sucked in breath after breath trying to calm himself down and Y/N tried to find it within herself to have sympathy for him, but she just…couldn’t. She was so pissed off at him she couldn’t think straight.

“I’m not some girl waiting around for Harry Styles to come home, begging him to never leave me,” Y/N said. She was done. She was done with this fight, with him expecting her to be someone she wasn’t. “I’m me and I’m waiting for Harry, the person I care for so deeply it hurts—you are held to the same standards as every other guy, no matter how busy your schedule is. I should not be expected to fit into your schedule all the time. It goes both ways and you operated this week as if it was entirely my job to stay in touch with you. And I am not going to stay in a relationship like that.”

Harry’s head whipped to hers, eyes boring straight into her. “Are you saying you want to break up?”

Y/N tried to keep her head high, tried to hold back the tears. “If you’re going to do this when you’re on tour, I’m done. You know what I want—it’s the same thing I wanted from this relationship the moment I met you. You’re the only one who seems to think things have changed.” And with that, she stormed out of the room, which was probably petty but she didn’t care. She was so mad at him for his actions and his words that she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him.

Harry didn’t follow her.

At 1 o’clock, a knock came on her door.

“If you still want to come, we have to leave for the premiere in an hour. It’s up to you.” And with that, he walked away, not even waiting for her to open the door.

She sat on the bed, considering her options. Did she go and support him anyway, pretend everything was fine? Or did she stay here—or maybe find a hotel—and leave him alone for the premiere?

He had told her how nervous he was about this. This was his first time on a movie red carpet as an actor and he was freaking out about it before he left, a ball of anxiety that she had to carefully untangle. The thought of him being up there alone pained her, despite how his hurtful words lingered in her head. That she had to get over it as if it was that simple.

The red dress she had bought for the premiere hung in the bathroom where she had left it while she showered so the wrinkles would leave the fabric. It was beautiful—a tiered taffeta skirt that cinched in at the waist, a caged bodice showing off her shoulders. When she had tried it on she had felt beautiful, powerful, as if she could take on anything and everything. She had spent a ton of money on the dress and she didn’t want to waste it.

So she got up, turning on BANKS and set about her hair and makeup in the bathroom, praising Hanna for teaching her how to do her makeup in college. She painted her lips red, in the shade that she adored wearing, and twisted up her hair into a chignon that emphasized her neck. Running her fingers along the skin she remembered when Harry had kissed it, but the love bite he had left behind was long healed. Was she asking too much of him? She wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. Was he right, were her fears stifling him?

Then she remembered what Hanna had told her. That he wasn’t anyone different from other guys she had dated, and what she was asking from him wasn’t out of left field. Any guy she would date she would except to check in with her when he was traveling and Harry was no different, no matter what his job was.

Harry was waiting downstairs for her, probably having heard her rummaging around in the closet. When he heard her heels on the stairs, he looked up and his eyesight on her skin burned because he looked gorgeous. Maybe this was a horrible idea, she thought as she made her way towards him. She would have to touch him all night, look at him in his tailored suit, gaze into his green eyes as they were photographed on the red carpet.

“You look beautiful,” he said, words gravelly in his throat.

She stopped a few paces away from him. “Thanks.”

He fiddled with his keys, the silence stretching between them. “Thank you for coming with me. I know you have no reason to, but having you there…It means a lot.”

Instead of replying, because she didn’t have words for him, she just nodded. Because she did have a reason—even though she was mad at him, she still cared for him. Despite not wanting to, she still craved him giving her a kiss on the cheek as they walked out the door.

The drive to the red carpet was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background the only sound. They sat on either side of the backseat, Y/N staring out the window while Harry fiddled with his phone. She hadn’t been to London since she was 18 for her graduation present from her mom, and the city held warm memories for her. She wondered if that would change after today.

When they pulled up, an anxiety Y/N didn’t know she was holding started building, the sight of the photographers and the screams from the fans barricaded in. With all that had been happening, she had somehow forgotten what going to the premiere meant for her. Her eyes fell to Harry who was staring at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She had never done this before and he knew that.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he said, trying to calm her fears. “Promise.” It helped. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. “Ready?” He stretched out a hand to her and she took it, letting him help her from the car.

The second her feet hit the pavement, the screams got louder. Fans with signs and their phones outstretched on either side of the wide red carpet, the word DUNKIRK in large white letters closest to the entrance to the theater. Harry’s hand gripped her as she stood, thankful for his body to help her keep balanced.

“Just smile as best you can,” he whispered in her ear as the car pulled away behind them. “And if your eyes start hurting from the flashes, just look at me, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and with his hand in hers, fingers entertained, they made their way down the carpet. He stopped a few times to take photos with fans and sign cards, but all that time he never strayed too far from Y/N’s side. With his arm securely wrapped around her waist, they stood for photos, Y/N trying to stand up as straight as she could and smile sweetly. Harry was a pro at this, a smile practiced for years, but she didn’t have the same experience. She was just a regular person who didn’t know which side was her bad side and had her eyes closed in half her photos.

The cameramen screamed questions at them, about their relationship, if they were married. They’d never quite publicly announced their relationship, Harry preferring to keep his private life private, so this was the first time they’d ever even publicly been out as a couple. And for it to be like this…Y/N hated it. She wanted to stand there and be utterly infatuated with Harry like she usually was, but this time her spine was rimrod straight, trying to keep her emotions in check. It was awkward, the way he tentatively touched her body, not wanting to overstep but also wanting to present the aura of normalcy.

Then they took a few steps and rotated to another set of cameras and Y/N understood what Harry had meant about her eyes hurting from the flashes. She turned her head to him and he found her eyes, giving her a wide smile meant just for her. Without thinking about it, her hand pressed to his suit right over his heart, the soft material of his suit jacket butter under her fingers. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, softly and sweetly and to most it wouldn’t have meant much. But to Y/N, it was the first time he had kissed her since she’d seen him. And the feeling of his lips on her skin lingered, a tingle moving through her body. Her hand gripped his back a little tighter and he just kept smiling at her, utterly entranced by her eyes.

Their bodies had betrayed them. To anyone who looked, they would have seen perfectly fine, not that they had been fighting only two hours ago. But they knew the reality, and this moment, their bodies close together and emotions running through them without being able to stop it, it made it clear that neither of them wanted to break up. They would just have to find a way to move through it.

TAGLIST

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit  @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo​ 

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 11TH @ NOON CST

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 24

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

——————————————————————————————

Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

————————————————————————————

Holding a flashlight, Dr. Urakchaevy checked her patient’s eyes and noticed her eyes squinted towards the flare. Maria, the Rodian lady, felt her sight were blurry as the doctor found halos around her sparkling eyes, making her frown. This is unusual for a Rodian’s eyes to look like that, she thought, as she jotted down on her datapad.

Dr. Urakchaevy took a deep breath and sat back at her desk, facing Maria with a frown on her face. “I’ve checked your eyes, and it’s terrible. I can reach to the conclusion that you are having cataracts in your eyes.”

“I’m not surprised,” Maria hung her head low, her hands clutched together. “Is there anything you could do to cure my cataract from my eyes? I don’t think I can survive without my eyes.”

“I agree, nobody wants to lose their sight, but as you get older, issues like eye problems and chronic pains are inevitable. Do you have any history with diabetes before?”

“I’m afraid I do. I have been on insulins for years and I had my leg amputated because of gangrene, so maybe this could be the reason my health has worsened over the years. I guess I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Dr. Urakchaevy pouted as she bobbled her head before scribbling a prescription on a piece of paper. “Your appointment date for your surgery will be on Friday. The sooner we get your cataract removed, the sooner you can see clearly like a young woman.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Maria, as she got up from her seat and left her office, leaving the doctor alone. Grabbing a tablecloth and a sanitizer, Dr. Urakchaevy wiped every single part of her office as part of standard procedure, making sure her office was hygienic enough for her next patient.

Having worked in a hospital on Coruscant before, the turquoise Theelin had to sanitise both her equipment and patient’s seat to prevent infections. Medical centres treated various diseases, such as common flu, chickenpox, and the infamous Shining Death, which killed hundreds and thousands of patients two decades ago.

At some point, Dr. Urakchaevy was contracted with the virus, but recovered for a month in the hospital. Her wife, Thando, was pacing up and down back home, wondering when she would return. Nobody could visit the hospital ward back then, as doctors and nurses did not want the Shining Death to spread and kill more people.

Tossing her disposable gloves into the bin, the doctor groaned and stretched her back as she stepped out of her office, only to find Fives and Yara seated on a blue chair, with Tup still inside his gurney, breathing through his ventilator. She wasn’t expecting their company, but she was ready to help anyone who stepped into her clinic.

“Good afternoon, Doc,” Fives greeted her with a smile. “I’m Fives, and this is Tup and Yara. I believe you could help us with our situation right now.”

“I’m guessing Liana Halls had sent you here,” estimated Dr. Urakchaevy.

“Who?” Yara raised her eyebrows, gazing at the doctor.

“The medicine lady earlier. Did she send you here?”

“She did, Doc,” she grinned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dr. Urakchaevy stood there in silence and eyed Yara and Tup, taking a mental note of their current condition. The former was next to her brother with a dazed eye, munching on her cookies that Thando had baked while holding her forehead. She then glimpsed at Tup, who seemed to be in a critical condition and in a need of medical care.

“How long has he been inside?” she asked the ARC Trooper, agitated.

“Over 5 hours,” he told her. “Can you save him? He looks like he’s dying.”

“Yes, I can,” Dr Urakchaevy nodded, as she gestured to them to hurry inside her office.

Putting on another set of rubber gloves, Fives put down Yara on the doctor’s desk, helped the doctor to unstrap Tup and carried him towards the patient’s bed, before placing a new set of ventilators and a heart monitor beside him. The latter was beeping rapidly as Dr. Urakchaevy squeezed some oxygen for Tup, hoping to stabilise his heart rate.

“How is he, Doc?”

“He’s getting weaker,” she answered him. “Is he having a heart attack or something? He looks pretty young to have these health conditions.”

“It’s complicated,” Fives stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “We don’t know to explain this.”

“If you don’t tell me, it would be very difficult for me to save your brother. Besides, I’ve dealt with strange diseases throughout my entire career. I’m sure this isn’t as bad as the Shining Death.”

Taking a deep breath, Fives explained everything that happened earlier on Ringo Vinda. From how Tup was acting strange before the fight, how he shot Master Tiplee to death, and how he acted aggressive when he stared at another Jedi, without sparing a single detail about the incident. “We think it was a virus developed by the Separatist, but we couldn’t find anything through the scans. That’s why we came to see you instead, since you’re the best doctor in town.”

Dr. Urakchaevy blinked as she slumped on a black chair and crossed her legs. She stared at the floor for a moment, processing what she had heard from Fives. Out of all the patients she had treated, she had never thought she would come across a clone trooper until today. “Are you sure Tup isn’t having a case of PTSD, cause aggression is part of the symptom, you know.”

Fives shook his head, crossing his arms. “Tup, Yara, and I have been through many battles together and he never acted this way before, really. He’s been through a lot with us since Umbara. It was the deadliest battle for a rookie like him.”

“I see. Well then, I’ll have to apologise since I have never treated a clone trooper before, hence I’m only observing based on my experience.”

“No worries, Doc,” he assured her, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. It’s been a stressful day for all of us, inclusing you.”

“Apology accepted,” Dr. Urakchaevy gave a slight smile. “Did you see a medic before you came to me?”

Fives gave a nod. “We did, Doctor. Apparently, the Jedi and the medic said that it could be a virus developed by the Empire to control clones like us. There were rumours about it, and I think it could be true.”

Dr. Urakchaevy could only burst into laughter as she heard his statement before composing herself. “This is the first time I’ve heard of a virus that can cause aggression in a patient. Honestly, it is the most absurd thing someone has told me, really. I don’t remember learning that in medical school.”

“You mean a virus doesn’t do that?”

“No, they don’t. I’ve studied and treated viral infections on patients and I have never seen a patient acting aggressive solely for that reason.”

“Well, maybe the Empire developed one in their fancy lab. It could be possible, considering they tried to take Tup away.”

“Even if the Empire had produced a virus in their lab, the first symptoms of any virus would be runny nose, coughs, fever, and lethargy. Did Tup have those symptoms before the battle?”

Fives denied. “He was perfectly healthy. It was unlike my brother to kill a Jedi General, you know. He’s not the kind to get into bar fights easily.”

“Yeah, he seemed like a sweet man,” Dr. Urakchaevy chuckled, before moving on with the next question. “What about his brain? Does he have any brain problems?”

“Not that I know of, though it could be possible. After all, he was rubbing his head before the fight, so that could be it.”

“In that case, I will start a brain scan for Tup,” she stood up, along with Fives. “What about your sister, Yara? Is she having the same problem as well?”

“She broke her left arm and hit her head after the ship crash,” Fives said. “I had to carry her all the way here since she looked dizzy.”

“I’ll get my wife to deal with her. In the meantime, you need some rest for yourself. It’s been a long journey for all of you.”

“What about Tup? Will he be okay?”

“He will,” Dr. Urakchaevy comforted him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll do everything I can to save him.”

[openheartchoices]

Mistletoe Kisses (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Mistletoe Kisses

Open Heart: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Olivia Summers)

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: none

Summary: It’s the very first annual Edenbrook Christmas party, and Olivia can’t help but spend her night filled with jealousy and mistletoe.

A/N: just a cheesy little mistletoe fic because I’m a sucker for them. lots of love and happy reading! <3

“A certain doctor is going to fall over in shock when he sees you,” Sienna said with a wink as her and Olivia walked up to the hotel.

It was the first annual Edenbrook Christmas party. When the hospital ran into some extra money, Olivia had suggested throwing a “fancy” Christmas party to relax from all the pressure the staff had been put under recently. However, she didn’t think her idea would actually be taken seriously, but now she was currently walking up the steps to the hotel where the party was being held at.

The entire hospital wouldn’t be at the party since there was always sick people that needed care, and a hospital couldn’t just shut down for the night, obviously, but Olivia knew that Ethan had the night off (she may or may not have asked Naveen and made him pinky promise to not tell Ethan she asked) and was hoping he’d show up.

Before entering, Olivia turned to Sienna. “Are you sure I look okay? I feel like I did too much.”

Sienna rolled her eyes. “You can never do too much. You look incredible! It’s just a party. Don’t let it freak you out.”

Olivia nodded to her best friend as they entered the luxurious hotel ballroom to see it lavishly decorated. Soft music played while everyone mingled, a glass of something in their hand whether it was champagne, scotch, eggnog, or some fancy drink that Olivia really didn’t recognize. She soon realized that she wasn’t overdressed at all once she saw a lady walk by her in a full ballgown.

“Edenbrook can really throw a party,” Sienna muttered, her shawl wrapped tightly around her, eyes wide as she glanced around the place.

“Yeah, you’re telling me. I don’t even know half of these people,” Olivia replied as she was equally just as starstruck.

Across the room, Ethan, who was chatting to a colleague he really didn’t like, looked around in boredom. He hated dressing up and coming to formal events like this. His eyes darted across the ballroom in hopes to find someone he could strike a conversation up with to get out of the awful one he was in.

And he did.

He swore he stopped breathing when his eyes landed on Olivia who stood near the entrance with Dr. Trinh. She wore a long, red dress that was tight from her chest to her abdomen and then was flared out to the floor from there with a modest slit up her right leg. The dress had lace sleeves down the arms, and Ethan didn’t care that his staring was probably very obvious.

Her blonde hair was delicately braided into a low, messy bun that sat on the right side of her neck, a few pieces of curled hair framed her face that was just as stunning. Ethan couldn’t tell much about her makeup from where he was standing, but he definitely noticed the red lipstick that coated the lips he had kissed many times.

Dr. Trinh must have said something funny because Olivia let into laughing. Ethan felt his heart stop when Olivia’s face lit up. Her nose scrunched up, her head went back, and her mouth morphed into the smile that always left him speechless.

“Excuse me,” Ethan said to the colleague who would not shut up about his achievements before he made his way over to Olivia, his eyes never leaving her.

“Did it work?” Olivia muttered under her breath.

Sienna grinned. “Don’t look to your left, but he’s on his way over right now. I’m going off to mingle. Have fun!”

“Sienna!” It was too late as Sienna had already disappeared into a crowd of people when Ethan finally stood in front her.

Olivia took a look up at him. He was wearing a simple, yet expensive, black tuxedo with a black bowtie and his hair was neatly styled. Even with as simple as he dressed, Olivia still felt her heart race.

She smiled at him, making a mental note to not embarrass herself or be awkward. “Enjoying yourself or are you just being moody as usual?”

He rolled his eyes, opting to ignoring her comment.. “You look… nice, Rookie.”

“Just nice?” Olivia joked, earning a laugh from Ethan.

“Sorry. You look stunning, Olivia.”

Her eyelashes fluttered at the compliment as her cheeks turned a crimson red that was noticeable even under all the makeup. “You look nice, too, Ethan.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Just nice?”

It was Olivia’s turn to laugh this time. She was too busy laughing to notice the way Ethan was looking at her as if she was the only girl in the room.

“Okay, fine. You look very nice. I’d say handsome, but saying that word makes me feel as old as you.”

“I’m only thirty-seven, Olivia, not eighty-seven,” he dejectedly said. “So, what are-“

“If it isn’t Dr. Ethan Ramsey!” A voice from behind Olivia interrupted. “I haven’t seen you in what feels like ages!”

Olivia watched as a woman, whose face she couldn’t see, stood right in front of her, throwing her arms around Ethan’s neck. She furrowed her brow as she tried to figure out why this mysterious lady was hugging the man she was talking to before they were rudely interrupted.

As the woman turned around to face Olivia, she moved her arm to snake around Ethan’s waist while Olivia attempted to not glare at it. Ethan looked a little shocked, but he loosely put his  hand on her waist just to look nice.

He cleared his throat, sensing the obvious tension. “Olivia, this is Dr. Katherine Greene. She’s the Department Head of Cardiology at Mass Kenmore, and we went to Johns Hopkins together. Katherine, this is Dr. Olivia Summers who is a junior fellow on my team.”

There was no denying that Katherine was extremely pretty. With her long, dark hair that was down to her waist, chocolate brown eyes, and perfect complexion, Olivia felt a little insecure. Katherine wore a long, silver dress with a low neckline that clashed perfectly with her tanned skin.

“Hello,” Katherine cooly said as Olivia forced a smile back in acknowledgement. “When Harper invited me, I was a little reluctant to accept considering the little rivalry we have with Edenbrook, but when I thought I’d get the chance to reconnect with Ethan,” she put her free hand on his arm, “I jumped to tell Harper that I would come.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows as she crossed her arms. “Glad you could make it.”

Katherine shot her a sickly sweet smile. “I am, too. It’s been so long since Ethan and I have seen each other. We haven’t been in touch since, what, our last date?”

Ethan dated her? As in a romantic relationship? Olivia couldn’t hide the look of genuine surprise on her face. Ethan sensed her surprise and was quick to say something. “I wouldn’t call that a date.”

Before Katherine could say anything else, Olivia had decided she was getting sick just looking at the intelligently graceful woman. Although she was extremely flirty and obviously was rubbing whatever relationship they’d had, platonic or romantic, in Olivia’s face, she still had a beautiful elegance about her. “I’m going to grab a drink.”

As she moved around Ethan, he gently grabbed her arm. “Wait, Olivia-“

“No, it’s fine. You two obviously have some catching up to do. I’ll see you later.” Olivia gave him the best smile she could, but the two of them knew it was fake. Ethan went to walk after her, but Katherine grabbed him again, forcing him into a flirtatious conversation he was not in the slightest bit interested in.

“Katherine, you know that wasn’t a date. We got lunch at the same place during the convention in New York, and you sat down at my table.”

Katherine laughed. “Lighten up, Ethan. That little girl is crushing on you and, by the way, it’s painfully obvious. Just letting her know that it won’t happen just so you won’t have to tell her.”

Ethan glared. “Olivia is anything except a little girl. She’s an exceptional doctor and, just like I told the governor, she’s the bright future of Edenbrook. She’s incredibly smart, mature, and can hold her own. I suggest for you to not make comments like that around me about members of my team, Dr. Greene. Especially Olivia Summers.”

—

“And she just put her arm around him. Openly flirting, Dr. Banerji!” Olivia exasperated. “I was standing right there!”

Naveen chuckled. “Sounds like Katherine. She’s always been like that.”

“You know her well?” Olivia asked, taking another sip of champagne.

She stood against the railing outside. The party was still going on inside, but Olivia needed a moment to herself. However, she didn’t decline Dr. Banerji’s company when he asked if he could join her. She liked him quite a bit and always enjoyed his company.

“I wouldn’t say I know her extremely well, but I do know her,” he said. “Ethan said she always tried to get him to go out with her when they were in school, but he was never interested. He finally decided to have dinner with her about two or three years ago, but he wasn’t feeling anything for her. She’s always liked him and always had that flirty attitude.”

“Do you think he’d… go out with her again?” Olivia asked as she fiddled with the lace sleeve of her dress, trying to not look Dr. Banerji in the eye.

Ethan was a grown man. He could date whoever he wanted, but Olivia hoped and wished that it wasn’t Katherine in her stupidly gorgeous silver gown and her long, goddess-looking hair. Deep down, she knew she wished it was her.

As unrealistic as it was considering how Ethan wanted to keep their relationship strictly professional, she did dream of a day when they could walk into a Christmas party hand-in-hand. When Ethan wouldn’t push her away, and when he wouldn’t remind her that their relationship wasn’t a good idea.

With a laugh, Naveen turned to face the younger doctor. “I’ve known Ethan for a long time. I consider him family. In all this time, I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you. You have nothing to worry about, Olivia. It’ll always be you. Even if he’s too stubborn to admit it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Banerji.” And she really did mean that.

The older man smiled kindly when he patted her shoulder as he walked by her on his way back inside after letting her know he had business to attend to. “It’s Naveen, Olivia.”

Olivia clutched her empty champagne glass after she took the last sip. The party had been in full swing for close to two hours now. She had spent more than half of the time hiding outside, a quarter of it looking for Sienna who was her ride home, and the other quarter hoping that she wouldn’t bump into Ethan and Katherine.

Her luck proved to not be in her favor when she felt a presence next to her. She didn’t even have to look to see who it was because she could smell the expensive cologne in the air that had been trapped on the pillow he slept on when he stayed at her apartment before he went to the Amazon.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding from me at.” Ethan turned to look at Olivia whose red lipstick had rubbed off on the empty glass she held. The moon illuminated her face, lighting it up in ways that made her look even more beautiful.

She turned to him, her perfectly styled hair starting to fall down even through all the hairspray Sienna sprayed on her. She laughed. “Guilty as charged.”

“I never dated Katherine,” Ethan told her. “It was one date, and I knew I wasn’t interested in her that way five minutes in. And the date she was talking about wasn’t even a date.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain your love life to me. It’s not like we’re together or anything.” Olivia hoped she was hiding the sad tone to her voice, but felt like she let it slip. She felt like she let a lot of things slip around Ethan.

Ethan looked down and bit his lip. Olivia was right. They weren’t together, so why did he feel so extremely guilty? “We should head back inside. Lace sleeves aren’t made for December weather. I don’t want you getting cold.”

Olivia nodded, a chill coming over her as if the wind had been waiting for Ethan to say that. She sat the empty glass on a tray sitting on a table outside as she crossed her arms trying to get some warmth flowing through her body.

Ethan had discarded his tuxedo jacket on the hanger near the entrance or else he would’ve given it to Olivia who was obviously cold. His fingers lingered on her lower back as he guided her back inside, leaving Olivia’s heart to skip a beat.

“Was that there before?” Olivia asked, pointing up to the doorway.

Ethan followed her gaze to see a mistletoe hanging right above them. He frowned. That most definitely had not been there before when he came out to see her after Naveen had told him that Olivia was…

Realization hit Ethan like a truck as he let out a groan. “Naveen. It was Naveen.”

Olivia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, but she failed to do so and burst out. She brought her hand up to her mouth to try and quiet herself, but she found the whole situation too hilarious. “Where did he get a mistletoe? And how did we not see him put it there behind our backs?”

“It’s Naveen, Olivia. He may be old, but he’s capable of more than you think.”

Now came the awkward part.

Olivia and Ethan refused to meet each others’ eyes. They really didn’t know how they were going to get out of this. Yes, they could just walk away, but they were both lingering for the same reason. There was no “walking away” and they both knew it.

“Well,” Olivia drawled. She cleared her throat. “It is a, uh, Christmas tradition.”

Ethan paused for a moment before regaining his composure. “Rookie, I don’t know-“

“Kiss on the cheek and we call it a night?” Olivia asked, looking straight into his eyes.

He thought about it for a moment. It was just a kiss on the cheek. That was all he was going to do. Pre-teens in middle school gave kisses on the cheeks. Surely he, at age thirty-seven, could kiss a girl on the cheek. In the back of his mind though, he knew it was because this wasn’t just some girl. It was Olivia.

Ethan grabbed the girl’s chin, moving her head to the side to gain access to her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her cheek slowly, letting his lips linger as Olivia slowly moved back to face him, Ethan’s hand still on her chin.

“Olivia-“

She put her index finger to his lips and stopped him before he could say anything else. Olivia trailed her finger to his shoulder where she gripped it with her hand. At last, she finally whispered, “Kiss me, Ethan.”

He was drawn to her and absolutely smitten to the blonde standing in front of him that he did exactly that. Ethan softly pressed their lips together in a sweet, yet passionate kiss that Olivia couldn’t help but smile in the middle of.

“What’re you smiling at?” He whispered, their faces still extremely close.

“Thinking about how Katherine wishes she was doing what I’m doing right now.” She let out a laugh that fanned across Ethan’s face, and he couldn’t help but laugh right along with her.

Once the laughter had stopped, Olivia wrapped both arms around his neck as his hands went around her waist. She laid her head on his shoulder, thankful they were having this private moment that no one else saw. The soft music playing from inside made everything even more like a daydream.

“Liv, you know that if things were different-“

“I know.”

The two relished in the moment because they knew that it was going to have to end soon. They had to go back to reality. For a moment, they could feel like a normal couple in love. They could pretend they had what they wanted. But only for a short amount of time.

But as Ethan held the girl in his arms that made him feel things he’d never felt in his entire life, he realized that he didn’t want this to just be a dream. He wanted this to be the real thing.

“We’ll talk, okay?” Ethan said after a moment of silence, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll figure something out.”

He felt her smile and nuzzle deeper into him, and, for the moment, he couldn’t help but smile, too. She had that effect on him. The one that made him feel dizzy and out of breath, but in a good way. Olivia was everything good wrapped up into an incredible person.

From inside the hotel, unbeknownst to Olivia and Ethan, Naveen and Sienna high-fived each other.

“You think it worked for sure?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Banerji. Nice work. I think we just pushed them in the right direction."

[telekinesiswrites]

Matthew Taylor Relationship Headcanons

You meet him at one of the college football games. You’re sitting in the stands, spectating, and he’s on the sidelines, waiting to be swapped in. It’s when he looks up into the crowd, he spots you. He doesn’t know why, but you drew his attention immediately. But after you gift him with a shy smile and hesitant wave, Matt knows he wants to meet you. 

So after the game, he finds you at the gates. Que the awkwardness as you and Matt attempt small talk and try to avoid eye contact. After a few minutes of stumbling over each other, Matt finally manages to ask you out.

Matt is a gentleman, through and through. He opens the door for you, pulls out your chair, thanks you for every little thing you do; he loves you with all his heart and wants to show you how much he cherishes you. 

He loves it when you wear anything related to the sports teams he plays for. You’re his #1 Fan!

Out of all the Until Dawn guys, Matt is the cleanest. He hates mess, disorganization, and he’s never understood the concept of “organized chaos.” He also likes to split up chores, like you cook and he does the dishes or you clean the toilet and bathtub and he cleans the sink, mirror, and sweeps and mops the bathroom floor. One, it lessens the burden of cleaning an entire room yourself, and two, it makes you and Matt feel like equals. It’s nice to know that you’ll never have to worry about cleaning up after this man.

Study dates are very common. Though he doesn’t like to admit it, Matt isn’t the smartest person and struggles in most of his classes, and knows that he needs decent grades in order to play sports. Scenery varies, depending on both your moods; sometimes you huddle up in the corner of a coffee shop, or a secluded table in the library, or maybe just in your dorm, dressed in your comfiest of clothes. Matt is always appreciative of your help, always making sure to thank you afterwards.

Matt can’t help but compare you to Emily, who he broke up with after the events at Blackwood. While Emily could be outwardly mean and condescending to him, a revelation Matt didn’t have until after he started dating you, you were always patient and kind to him, always so happy to see him and never cruel. You didn’t put him down for his poor grades, something that Emily always jabbed at, but instead you always helped him. And he didn’t hate any shopping trips you went on because you always involved him, asking his opinion on clothes and whatnot and sometimes finding things for him to try on and never mocking his choices. Anytime he was left to his thoughts and started comparing you and Emily, he would always smile knowing that he was in a much better, healthier relationship. 

If you wear his signature Letterman jacket, this boy will die of cuteness overload. He can’t handle seeing you in his jacket.

Communication is something that Matt has to work on. He’s a pushover and all his past girlfriends used this to their advantage; he would much rather let his partner have their way than have to deal with confrontation. Not you, though. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but you always have to sit Matt down and talk out whatever problem you two have. After a couple successful conversations, Matt isn’t so opposed to the idea of bringing up any issues he has about the relationship, knowing that you’d rather find a solution than talk over him. 

Matthew absolutely loves massages. He works out a lot so he tends to get sore, especially if he pushes himself. Lay this boy down on the bed and rub all the knots out of his back and he’ll be putty in your hands. And...it might just lead to something a little more intimate.

If you start showing interest in his hobbies, Matt will be absolutely elated. Go to the gym with him and let him show you how to work out properly so that you don’t hurt yourself. Attend all his sports events so you can cheer him on. Shoot hoops with him down at the rec center on campus or go to the batting cage at the baseball diamond. Emily was always dismissive of his interests, so he’ll be so happy if you ask him questions about anything he’s interested in. And don’t worry, this is not a one-sided thing. Matt will support you in whatever you’re interested in as well. If you like to paint, he’ll take a painting class with you. If you like to write, he’ll ask so many questions about your stories. If you participate in a sport that he doesn’t, you bet that he’ll be out there on the field trying to learn the basics. Matt just loves spending time with you.

Matt is actually a decent cook. He’s a pro at meal prepping and reserves Sundays for cooking. As mentioned in a previous bullet point, Matt doesn’t like mess and is very organized, and this reflects in his meal prepping. The fridge is stocked full of healthy foods, with all the fruits and veggies cut up, all the meats seasoned well and cooked perfectly, and any condiments you need poured into little individual dipping containers. He has all your breakfasts and lunches neatly packed so you can grab them on the go. All your co-workers are in awe at how colorful and delicious your lunches are and you can’t help but brag that your boyfriend made them for you. It fills you with such pride when they all tell you Matt is a keeper.

Somewhere down the line, you and Matt bump into Emily, who Matt hasn’t talked to since Blackwood. At this point, you and Matt have been happily dating for almost a year, but yet, Matt hasn’t mentioned Blackwood to you, in hopes that he can just forget it and move on with his life. You both run into Emily at the grocery store and Matt knows that Emily is going to say something awful to you just by the way the woman looks you up and down in disgust.

“Jesus, Matt, you really downgraded, didn’t you?”

You’re honestly shocked and are speechless and Matt steps in between you too, holding up a hand to Emily. 

“Please, Em, don’t start anything.”

“What? Scared that they’re going to find out what a douche you really are? Are you going to leave them for dead too?”

You’re tugging on Matt’s sleeve. “Matt, what is she talking about?”

Emily smirks. “Wow, Matthew, keeping secrets? Figured you would be too cowardly to tell them all the shit you pulled back at Blackwood.”

Before Emily can continue, Matt pulls you away, ignoring Emily as she continues to taunt him. Both of you wander to one of the registers, bringing your shopping trip to an abrupt end. At this point, Matt doesn’t even care if you haven’t gotten everything on your list; he just wants to go home. Once you both get home, Matt doesn’t say anything, and just goes to the bedroom, shutting himself inside. You know not to push, knowing that Matt would just shut you out even more. You go about fixing dinner, constantly looking over your shoulder at the door of your shared bedroom, worried. 

“Matthew, dinner is ready!” 

No response.

You eat dinner alone, forcing yourself to eat, but eventually giving up since you don’t really have an appetite. You try to distract yourself by cleaning the dishes from dinner, on homework, on anything, but you find yourself pacing outside the bedroom door, internally debating on whether you should go in and confront Matt or let him come to you instead when he was ready. 

You decide on the former. Testing the doorknob and seeing that he never locked it, you push the door open, met with darkness. You feel your way towards the lamp that sits on your nightstand and flick it on, light flooding the room, and illuminating your boyfriend, who was curled up on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest and face buried in his arms. Kneeling beside him, you contemplated on how to start this conversation, before gently reaching out and touching his arm. 

“Matthew, please, talk to me.”

“You’ll hate me if I do,” he said, voice muffled.

“No, I won’t. Just please, speak to me. I don’t like it when you shut yourself out to me like this.”

Matt was quiet for a moment before lifting his head from his arms. That’s when he tells you everything: the prank he and his old friends played on Hannah, resulting in both her’s and Beth’s deaths; going back to Blackwood with Emily as his girlfriend and seeing her and Mike hugging through the telescope, causing him to be salty toward her for the rest of the night; rushing to the fire tower after Chris and Ashley told them about Josh getting killed by some psycho wandering around the mountain; the fire tower falling through the mines, trying his best to save Emily from falling, but only causing the tower to shift, resulting in her fall anyway; being grabbed by the Wendigo and only managing to escape because Emily had given him a flare gun she found at the tower; leading Jessica out of the mines and escaping with their lives. He poured his heart out, expressing his guilt in not trying hard enough to save Emily, remembering how scared he was that he had possibly caused her death.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell all of this to you sooner. I just...didn’t want you to think I was crazy or something and...I didn’t want you to think I was a horrible person. A failure because I couldn’t save Emily when that tower was falling.”

You’re quiet and the silence kills him, twisting his insides into a painful knot. He knew this was going to happen. He knew you would break up with him for being a failure, a horrible person, a-

“Matthew, there is no way in hell that I would ever think of you as a terrible person.”

Matt stares at you, stunned. “W-What?”

“You’re a good person, Matt. While I’m a little disappointed that you went along with that prank, you didn’t know what would happen to those two girls. If you had known, I know you wouldn’t have gone through with it. As for Emily, I know you tried your damnedest to save her. I didn’t believe her for a second when she said all that about you. Because I know you, Matthew, and I know you’ve got a big heart.”

Matt just looks at you, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. That’s when he grabs you, pulling you close, burying his face in your chest, letting the tears fall. You hold him close, running your fingers through his hair, rubbing soothing circles into his back. 

“Thank you.” He tightens his hold on you. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Matthew.”

[strangeinternetwasteland]

The art of growing up

Authors Note: Follows the Naruto universe, some slight changes  I tried, let me know if you hate it.  Also italicized words indicate thought

Character: Obito Uchiha 

Prompt: Canon compliant with I didn’t do it! or Angst with this why I fell in love with you. I chose both.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of suicide, death, some gore, and blood

Word Count: 1.5 K

Growing up in Konoha for Obito was arduous. He didn’t know who his parents were and was left in the care of his grandmother. Growing up he felt alone and unimportant. A burden to his clan and his grandmother. He wanted to become Hokage so that he would finally be acknowledged. 

Obito was often seen as clumsy, bothersome, and unnecessary to his teammate Kakashi. Obito often was late for training and meetings, and this annoyed Kakashi immensely. He regularly liked to point it out to Obito. This caused a lot of contempt between the two.

Rin, however, was the glue of their team. She was always there to cheer Obito on and settled any flare-up between himself and Kakashi. Obito had known and grown up with Rin. They were best friends, and he liked to believe they were inseparable.

While waiting for their sensei to show up to the team meeting, Obito took this time to stare at Rin. Looking at her is like I am looking at an angel Obito thought. He couldn’t stop staring a the chestnut-haired girl. Kami, she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Obito was unabashedly and absolutely in love with Rin Nohara. She was unquestionably perfect in his eyes. Her radiant smile lit up his whole world. The giggle of her laugh was music to his ears. The way her hair framed her magnificent face and the way her amber eyes lit up when she talked about the things that interested her was perfection to him. This is why I fell in love with you.

It was a shame to Obito that he had to share Rin with Kakashi. Even though he couldn’t currently bring himself to tell Rin, Obito knew he loved her. He loved her more than anything in the world. Unbeknownst, to him, was that Rin loved Kakashi. Why are all the girls in love with you? I bet you’re ugly underneath that mask. There is nothing special about him anyway.

“Obito, what are you thinking about in that head of yours?” Rin questioned him playfully. 

 “Yeah, Obito, you’ve got this stupid look on your face,” Kakashi remarked casually.

Seething, Obito bit his tongue knowing that if he said anything to rude back to Kakashi he would never hear the end of it from Rin. She’d go on and on about how they were teammates and were to act as one. 

A blush coming over his face, Obito finally said. “I was just thinking.”

“Must be hard for you to do,” Kakashi stated flatly, clearly looking to get a rise out of Obito. Rin gave Obito an apologetic look as Obito stuck his tongue out at Kakashi.

“I am glad we’re all here” Minato- sensei said trying to break the tension.

“Obito was late, as usual,” Kakashi blatantly announced.

“Oi! I was helping an old woman with her groceries!” Obito yelled back. 

Minato said while smiling, “ Well, our next mission will be to blow up the Kinnabi Bridge. This bridge is a major supply line for the Hidden Stone Village. With clear indication that there was no more to be said, they all left. Along the way, the team felt an uneasy presence as if they were being watched from the trees.  A Hidden Stone ninja silently watched the team looking for an opening to attack.  Kakashi thought this was a good time to try out his new technique, the Chidori despite Minato’s reluctance saying it could go awry with so little practice. 

Kakashi hastily ran off to attack the enemy ninja. Okay, just go run off and be Mr. Perfect. Obito was distracted with his thoughts to notice that the Hidden Stone Ninja had used the Shadow Clone Jutsu. Kakashi had decided to focus on attacking the clones leaving Obito accessible to the enemy. The Hidden Stone ninja laughed at the look of dumb fright on Obito’s face and without delay, the clones descended upon Obito. While Kakashi was distracted with saving Obito, Kakashi felt a sharp stab of a katana into his right shoulder. At that exact moment, Minato tackled their opponent and attached his special tag to the ninja’s foot, and immediately transported Kakashi to Rin’s location. Instantaneously, Minato was gone.

Perfectly beautiful. Rin sat and worked on Kakashi’s wound taking gentle care not to hurt it or apply too much pressure. Kakashi didn’t seem to mind any and the pain didn’t seem to affect Kakashi at all. Instead,  it seemed as if all the pain was redirected as animosity towards Obito. 

“You’re a coward Uchiha!” Kakashi spat. Anger boiling deep inside and started to explode. “You hesitated on the battlefield! What an idiot!” 

Blinking back tears Obito retorted, “At least, I didn’t rush out there blindly!” The boys were at one another’s throat. Rin just stood there nervously.

Minato’s voice boomed out, “Alright! Now that the threat is neutralized, for now, I think we should rest.” He is visibly upset by Kakashi’s biting behavior. Why did Kakashi act that way? Why does he act like he’s better than everyone?

After a while, feeling restless and unable to sleep, Obito got up to find Minato. After a bit, he found his sensei and sat down next to him asking, “Why did Kakashi act out like that?” 

Minato took a deep breath and said, “Well, Kakashi’s father was the White Fang. Instead of finishing a mission, he decided to save his team. He was ridiculed and eventually killed himself.” 

Obito sat and pondered Minato’s words and eventually drifted into a dreamless sleep. It wasn’t a surprise when the next day Minato disclosed to the group that Kakashi would be the leader for the next part of the mission.

“We will be separated at this point. You will be a team of three, with Kakashi as the leader.” Minato announced. Obito didn’t reject this decision. I hope this makes you proud of me, Rin. Rin was caught by surprise by Obito’s maturity, as much as Kakashi was. She looked at Obito with astonishment and curiosity. Am I better than Kakashi? Minato nodded and headed off alone. 

Kakashi led the team farther into the enemy territory, where they were suddenly ambushed by two ninjas’ looking for their fallen comrade. They captured Rin before escaping.

NO! NOT RIN! Obito panicked without a second of hesitation, he told Kakashi plainly, “I’m going after her.” His heartbeat racing.

“I think that we should complete our mission.” Kakashi bit back.

With a huff, rage boiled inside of Obito, followed by a punch directly to Kakashi’s face. “Your father was a true hero when he saved his friends.” With that, Obito turned around and left to go save Rin on his own while Kakashi went the other way. Obito’s words weighed heavily upon Kakashi. Obito frantically searched for where Rin was being held captive. Where are you? Please be safe. If I ever- When I find them I will kill them for taking you away from us.

Obito came upon the hideout concealed deep in a cave where Rin was being kept. Okay, I need a plan. What is the best way to get Rin out of here?  While Obito was planning Rin’s rescue, a Hidden Stone Ninja crept upon him. Using his camouflage technique to hide, the enemy ninja snuck closer to Obito. Just as the foe was ready to attack, Kakashi suddenly appeared.

“I don’t think that you could handle this all by yourself, idiot,” Kakashi said as he fought off the incoming attack, that would’ve maimed Obito. The consequence was the loss of Kakashi’s left eye. Oh, my kami. Oh no! What do I do? Panicking and afraid Obito began to cry when he saw Kakashi. I can’t- I can’t- I. NEED. TO. GET. TO. RIN!!!! 

Refocusing his attention on the battle happening before him, Obito awakened his Sharingan. He was able to see the enemy,  Obito quickly killed him. Kakashi looked at Obito with wide-eyed surprise, “Obito- You. Your- Sharingan.” With a quick shake of his head to acknowledge Kakashi’s stammering, he replied, “ Bandage yourself up and then let’s go get Rin.” Kakashi quickly bandaged himself up. The duo made their way to the cave where Rin was being held.

Wordlessly and effortlessly, the two entered to find Rin tied up and weak. Using their teamwork, Obito’s newly obtained Sharingan, and Kakashi’s skills, they fought off the last of the three Hidden Stone Ninjas that were following them in the forest. While battling inside the cave the walls had weakened significantly around the group. With all hope lost for the enemy, he made one last effort to defeat Obito and Kakashi which caused the cave to fall in on them. With all of the rocks collapsing around them, Obito noticed a rock plunging toward Kakashi. Leaping forward with extended arms, Obito threw Kakashi out of the way. The boulder landing on Obito and crushing the entire right side of his body. “Rin, take my Sharingan and transplant it in Kakashi’s eye. As a late gift for making Jounin.” Obito smiled weakly. 

Rin and Kakashi were forced to leave Obito behind while the cave was crumbling around them. The last thing Obito saw before darkness took over was the tears in Kakashi’s eyes and the hopeless look of failure on Rin’s face. This can’t be the end. Shutting his eyes and surrendering to the void Obito’s final thought was ‘I didn’t do it! I didn’t get to tell you I’ll love you always and forever.’

[fablesrose]

Of Kings and Shadows XXVII

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Series Masterlist

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

Natasha was right, as always.

It was early afternoon when the tether unexpectedly snapped onto me. It was quick and stiff, and I didn't miss the twinge of pain as a result.

I could suddenly hear the quiet breathing of a group of people. I let out a groan and let myself shake a little as if it would brush off the rest of the fading pain, "A heads up would have been nice."

I heard Loki give a dismissive hum in response which made my temper flare. I tried my best to swallow it down, and it worked long enough for my attention to be diverted elsewhere.

"Agent L/n are you ready to continue your report?" Nick sounded formal. I wondered what he thought of me.

I noticed that while the initial pain of the attachment went away, the tether was still extremely taut and was a discomfort difficult to push to the side. "Sure Director Fury, just let me bang my head against the wall a few times. It would feel better then this string-pulling so hard it's giving me a headache!" I turned toward where I thought Loki was, "Could you loosen it a bit? Please?"

He huffed, "No, I can't."

"Bullshit!"

"You'll just have to deal with it," Loki hissed at me. The phrase, no matter how full of malice it was made with, felt incomplete. Something needed to be added to the end, my name, a nickname, anything really. But maybe that just showed how disgusted he was with me, he wouldn't even acknowledge me with a name.

I knew he wouldn't budge, so I turned back towards Nick and awaited his question in tense silence.

"We need to know what happened the day you were captured."

For a moment the ache from the arrangement was forgotten as confusion took it's place, "What-what do you mean? There's cameras everywhere documenting all the missions."

"All the footage was deleted, or the cameras were disabled on this one. Either way, we have no idea what happened."

I sighed, the throbbing coming back, "Well..." I took a moment to recollect my thoughts. This was a moment I hadn't tried to think of in a very long time, "To set the stage: I was on drone duty with all of you guys, if you can recall. It was a simple cleanout of a Hydra base, it was actually the easiest one we'd had in a long time." My wheels started to turn, maybe the ease should have been a warning. "I had started to get into the habit of having music playing in the background to drown out the noises right outside my working area so I could focus on my video feeds. If I remember right the song playing was Somebody's watching me by Rockwell." I chuckled at the irony. I started to visualize what happened in painfully accurate detail.

I was chewing some gum quietly as I listened to the song, my eyes trained on my screens. I was mostly just patrolling the perimeter at this point. The team had just entered the building and everything was going smoothly.

I'm just an average man with an average life

I work from 9 to 5, hey hell, I pay the price

All I want is to be left alone, in my average home

But why do I always feel

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Like I'm in the Twilight Zone?

And I have no privacy

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

I could feel my stomach start to twist and the hair all over my body started to stand on end. I turned in my seat quickly to find no one was around me, like normal. I turned the music down and found that it was eerily quiet.

Is it just a dream?

"Hey, Y/n/n, I was listening to that, what's up?" I heard Tony talk to me through the com unit in my ear.

"Uh, not sure," I wanted to laugh, but I was nervous all of the sudden. "You guys are on your own for a minute, I think something's wrong. I'm going to go check it out." The feeling all over my body was stubbornly not going away which didn't do anything to ease my nerves.

"Be careful, kid."

"Always am."

I left my mic on just in case as I quietly rose from my seat. I couldn't see the agents left behind to guard the jet, which was odd. There were always at least two at the entrance with the rest spreading out around the surrounding area. I had my back against the wall as I shuffled slowly to the ramp. I wasn't quite to the entrance when Ike walked in.

He looked relaxed, as if we were just in the office, "Hey, L/n, do you mind helping me clear out some debris in the landing gear? It wasn't a very clean landing."

I let out a breath of relief. There was nothing to be worried about. "Yeah, sure thing."

He turned and walked away without waiting for me.

"Hey guys, false alarm, we're all good. I've gotta help fix something, so are you guys okay for another little bit?"

I got an affirmative from my teammates before I turned off my mic. I followed Ike to the outside of the jet. I still couldn't see the other agents which left me a little puzzled. Where did they go? I walked around the jet to where the landing gear was exposed only to find that they were perfectly clean.

"Ike?" I turned toward him slowly, studying the landing gear for a moment longer.

"Yeah, sorry, but not sorry."

I snapped my head to look at him, but I wasn't quick enough as he jabbed a syringe into my neck. I tried to shove his hand out of the way, but his hand had already retreated by the time I swatted at him.

I felt my arms grow heavy as the world began to tip. I looked past Ichabod for a moment and the pile of unconscious agents caught my eye. So that's where they went. I hit the ground and my vision began to go dark when multiple pairs of feet crossed my vision.

"Take it away, boys." I could hear Ichabod's voice, but it didn't register that he was talking about me. Before it could click I blacked out.

"So it was a targeted attack."

I shook myself out of the story, "Yes, it appears to be so."

Nick hummed as if he was thinking. He didn't share his thoughts, but asked me to continue, "Would you mind relaying the circumstances of Agent Laime's death?"

I answered a bit weakly, "Not at all, sir." I found it a bit odd that the rest of the group was able to stay quiet for so long, but maybe they were still a little afraid.

"I don't know how long I was in there for. All I remember was I was tired, sore, and probably not in my right mind with how many drugs they had pumped into me."

A pair of guards had dragged me to a meeting room and left me alone. I had probably fallen asleep waiting there, only realizing when I was startled with the door opening. I couldn't believe my eyes when the Ichabod Laime sat across from me.

He just stared at me. I couldn't tell if he was smug or blissfully nonchalant.

"Why?" My voice came out in a rasp.

His voice was painfully bland, "Why not? Why not be on the winning side? Why not be powerful? Why not be able to wipe smiles off people's faces? Why not destroy you?"

I stared at him blankly.

He started talking again, but to be honest his words just started to blend together. He just kept talking. All I remembered about it was with each word, I became angrier and angrier.

It got to the point where all I could see was red. Maybe it was from the emotions, or maybe it was from how high I probably was.

I was able to launch myself over the table tackle Laime to the floor. I straddled his chest, pinning his arms beneath my knees. My hands were wrapped around his throat as tightly as I could muster. He struggled against me, but I began to bash his head against the concrete beneath us.

By the time the guards slammed the door open Laime was limp in my hands. They ripped me off of him and dragged me back towards my cell as others rushed into the room to Ichabod's lifeless body.

As I was being dragged away I couldn't help but smile. Who's laughing now?

I completed my narrative with the exclusion of that last detail.

There was a beat of silence when suddenly the tether went slack. I felt light-headed and dizzy. I'm sure I went cross-eyed.

There were a few gasps around me.

"What?"

Clint answered me first, "Y/n, you just tipped over."

I was still disoriented, "Hmm, makes sense."

Tony spoke up, "Are you okay?"

"Mmm, yeah, just give me a minute..." I just stayed as still as possible, but it didn't pass as quickly as I would have liked.

I couldn't help the sarcasm from leaking into my voice, "Thanks, Loki."

He answered softly, "I apologize, my dear."

I hummed again, "Yeah, fuck you too."

Chuckles echoed around the room, some of them stiffer than others.

I heard myself sigh, "I can still answer questions from down here Ni- sir, if you don't mind."

Nick grunted, "The experiments, your powers, what did they do? How did you get them?"

"For the most part, they were composed of different injections. The first was administered when I first arrived at the facility, as far as I understand, it was to strengthen my body to be able to handle my powers." I imagined trails of black smoke flowing from my blackened fingertips, "I overheard the scientists mention that my limbs would 'whither' without the first shot." I chuckled, "One of them wanted to just replace everything that rotted away with a metal counterpart... How long do you think I would have lasted until there wasn't anything human left if it's as potent as they thought?"

I heard the quiet, uncomfortable shifting of feet.

"Anyway, it must have been weeks later when they shoved something that resembled tar into my veins. That was fun."

No one was answering me, no comments, not even the odd whisper of gossip. I hated filling the silence myself, but what was I gonna do?

"I can only specifically remember those two occasions, after that I think is when Nox- I mean, the Queen started making appearances, so I was blacked out for a while... But I think I remember when there were other black bruises from injections, so there were probably other times."

"Were there any other factors in you losing control, Agent L/n?"

I frowned, the disorientation was nearly gone by now, but I made no effort in standing my illusion up again. I'm not sure I wanted them to see my face clearly. I felt the strange sensation of my voice about to crack through the illusion that I willed to swallow down.

"Uh, yeah... There was this room." I heard myself breathe, "I'm pretty sure it was built specifically for me. It- it... I guess for the basic idea it was very similar to my current arrangements. It was a room covered in white. Through the walls, they could shine very bright lights at me." I remembered that they didn't know what that would do to me early in my transformation. "I guess I should backtrack a little. when I first got the formula, that's what they called the tar, it made my body extremely sensitive to light. So much so that it physically hurt. The purpose of the lightroom was to..." I struggled to find an appropriate word, "put me in my place, I guess. They would shove me in there and turn the lights on high until I was exhausted. I couldn't scream anymore, couldn't even cry. They had to drag me out every time they were finished."

"They tortured you."

"If you want to be blunt, yes." I didn't really pay attention to who was talking to me anymore, I just answered questions.

"Did they hit you? Cut you?"

I mockingly chuckled, "Oh no, of course not."

A collective breath was released around me.

But I wasn't finished, "Nothing so primitive. They preferred to get creative. After a while the light didn't hurt me anymore, just wore me out, drained me of energy, in case you were worried about my health in my current cell. They resulted in differing electrical shocks in addition to the blinding lights."

I could nearly hear the crickets in the still room. Nick was the one who broke the silence this time.

"That's enough for today. Everyone is dismissed."

I felt the tether softly dissolve, leaving me with the silence of the cell and my mind that I was trapped in. Loki didn't exit right away, though.

"I... I apologize for my behavior Lady Y/n."

I smiled, "You're really laying it on thick aren’t you?" I let myself trail off but picked up again, "But I get it."

He seemed reluctant to leave but didn't have anything more to say.

I laughed softly, "Now get out of here, I've gotta work on my trick shots."

I heard a huff of a laugh, but he did as he was told.

After a moment or two, I heard music flow through the speakers.

A/n: Hey, if you enjoyed this, please consider a like and a reblog? Thank you!

Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YvAYIJSSZY

Tag List: [OPEN] @snarky--starky @kitkatd7 @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog

[schneesisterss]

oh bees schnees prompts, excellent!! au where weiss went dancing with the bees + fnki after all 💕

This got a little spicy. Thanks for the prompt! I had a great time writing it :)

You can also read it on ao3 here

Enjoy!

/////////////////////

Weiss sat at the bar in the dance club. There was a man sitting next to her, talking, trying to keep her attention. She couldn't tell you his name. His voice was muffled by the music, barely registering in Weiss’ mind. She was too transfixed by the site in front of her. Her heart thumped in rhythm with the heavy bass. On the dance floor, not twenty feet from where Weiss was watching, Blake and Yang were dancing. 

Yang had her whole front flushed against Blakes back as they moved together. Blake's hand was curled around the back of Yangs neck, tugging her in close until they were sharing air. Yang's hands roamed possessively around her hips, guiding, leading. 

Weiss was having a hard time breathing. She had known there was something going on between the two, but to see it happening right before her… Weiss squashed down the feeling of envy. She tore her eyes away with a heavy swallow just to turn and wave down the bartender. Weiss didn't drink, for obvious reasons, but right now she desperately needed a glass of water. 

Team FNKI was around here somewhere too. She vaguely remembers Neon telling her they were going to go out back for a smoke. She asked Weiss if she wanted to come, but she distractedly declined, focused solely on the movements of her teammates. 

(Neon had given her a knowing look, but Weiss didn't see it.)

Weiss doesn't know how she was convinced by the other two to tag along. She was supposed to go to the movies with Oscar and Jaune. Maybe it was the bright and hopeful look on Yang's face when she extended the invitation to Weiss. Maybe it was Blake offering to do her makeup, her smile soft but her eyes fiery. Weiss found she couldn't say no.

“-and so maybe you could come to my place tonight?”

Weiss blinked. She had actually forgotten about the man sitting next to her. 

“What?”

No-name man smirked, like he thought he was flustering her, and turned his body towards her in the chair. Weiss wrinkled her nose as the smell of his cologne wafted through the air, invading her senses. 

“Come on,” he said cockily, “let's go back to my place. I can show you a good time.”

“No thanks.” Weiss clipped, grabbing the glass of water the bartender handed her way, drinking about half, before setting it down. “I’ll pass.” 

An annoyed look passed over the man's face as he narrowed his eyes. “So what, you're not even gonna give me a chance? I even bought you a drink.”

Weiss looked down to the counter. He had bought her a drink. Granted, it was untouched and she didn't even realize it was there until he just pointed it out. He must've done that when she was… distracted earlier. 

Weiss stiffened when she felt his hand slide onto her lower back. His hands felt too big, too commanding. Weiss felt herself freeze up. 

“No.” She said firmly, straightening her spine and stepping away, only for him to follow. “Look, I'm here with my friends. I'm not interested.” 

“Lets go dance then, maybe I can change your mind.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward. Weiss dug her heels into the ground.

“Let go of me!”

“Hey what's your probl-” He was cut off when a couple things happened at once. 

One, something, or rather someone, grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him backwards, sending him reeling away. And two, she was embraced with soft hands, one curling protectively around her waist and the other softly circling the same wrist the man had grabbed. It took her a couple seconds to actually register what happened.

Yang was standing in front of the man, her eyes had flickers of red bleeding into purple. 

“What the hell!” The man got up in Yang's face. 

“Back off.” Yang snarled, Weiss could tell she was holding back, if the clenched fists at her side were any indication. 

A brush of a thumb across Weiss’ wrist drew her attention to her side. Blake had wrapped herself around Weiss. Positioning herself so she was in between the man and the smaller girl. She wasn't paying attention to what was going on behind her, knowing Yang could handle it.

She was searching Weiss’ face for any sign of harm or discomfort. “Are you ok?” 

Weiss blushed, the close proximity making her stomach flop. “Yes, I'm fine. He just couldn't take a hint.”

“Why were you alone, where's Team FNKI?” Blakes eyes scanned the bar behind her. 

“Hey,” Weiss said, drawing Blakes attention back to her with a touch to the arm wrapped around her. “I’m fine, I promise. I can take care of myself you know.”

Blakes ears flattened against her head. “I know I just-”

“What’s a Schnee doing in a place like this anyways?” The man's voice was loud and irritated. Weiss felt her heart sink a little, no matter how hard she tried, she could never unlink herself to that name. He was still in Yang's face, but the other girl seemed more annoyed than angry now, her eyes back to their normal color. 

“Just leave us alone dude.”

The man squared his shoulders, sizing Yang up. Uh oh. That wasn't going to go over well.

Weiss decided to step in. She stepped around Blake, but stayed close to the Faunus so she still had her arm wrapped around her. “Look, just please go, we don't want to cause anymore trouble.” Yang took a step back to fill in the space on the other side of Weiss, bracketing her in.

The man's eyes jumped between the three of them before setting on Blake. They slide from the arm around Weiss’ middle to her ears on top of her head. He scoffs. Weiss feels Blake stiffen and Yang's aura spike.

“Seriously? This must be some type of joke. You of all people, here with a Faunus?” He laughed bitterly. “Didn't know a Schnee would stoop so low.”

Weiss felt anger swell inside her. She felt it bubble up until her face was red. She felt Yang too, her aura flaring up dangerously. She was about to step forward to give that man a piece of her mind, but before either of them could do anything, Blake stepped in front of him first. 

She leveled the man with a deadly look. Her shoulders were pushed back and the ears on top of her head were perked up, proud. Weiss always somehow forgot how tall Blake actually was. The man took half a step back. 

“Leave. Now.”

Her tone was level but Weiss could still hear the silent threat beneath it. The man must've too because he huffed giving a small “whatever” before turning and pushing his way through the crowd. 

“Asshole.” Blake muttered, turning back to her teammates. Her hand automatically reached for Yang, as if she didn't even notice she was doing it. Similarly, Yang reached her hand out as well, grasping Blake's forearm lightly, like it was second nature for them to seek each other's comfort. 

What shocked Weiss though, was that Yang had just as easily slug her other arm around Weiss’ shoulders and how Blake had yet to pull her arm away from her hip.

“Come on let's grab a table.” Yang said, leading them both away from the small crowd that had formed around them.

_____________

They found a booth in the back, one that circled all the way around making the sitting area a ‘U’ shape. Plenty of room for three people to have their own space. So, Weiss couldn't for the life of her understand why they were all squished together on one side. She wasn't necessarily complaining. Blake was in the seat closest to the opening of the table, her thighs were pressed up against Weiss’ and her heart jumped every time Blake would lean in close to talk. Yang was on her other side, arm over the back of the booth, her fingers lightly brushing against Blakes shoulder. Weiss could feel Yang's heat radiating off her, making her want to lean back into her chest, tuck her face into her neck. Weiss felt something in her chest. Something that was definitely toeing over the friendship line. 

Weiss was having a hard time concentrating to say the least. She can hear her teammates having a conversation, the music less loud being further away. She thinks they’re talking about Ironwood? She should probably focus. 

“I don't know Blake, it just feels wrong, hiding everything.” Yang's voice. “Atlas should be prepared, even if that means telling the people in charge.” 

Weiss heard Blake sigh. “Could we not talk about this now?”

Yang raised her hands in fake surrender. “Alright, alright.” She lifted her glass of water to her mouth, finishing off the rest. 

Blake must've noticed they were all running low because she gets up and gathers their glasses. “I’ll go get us some more water.”

Weiss nodded in response. For a few minutes they sit there quietly, listening to the subtle thump of the music. Weiss feels a hand on her thigh, warm and gentle, but also firm.

“You ok there, princess?”

Weiss jumped when she felt Yang's breath ghost over the shell of her ear. Yang's arm had moved from the top of the seat and now rested on her shoulders pulling her in. Weiss wanted to lean in, to tilt her head to give Yang access to her neck. Yang's proximity and this realization made her breath hitch. She wasn't looking at Yang's face but she was pretty sure she was smirking. 

“I’m perfectly fine. Just.. thinking.”

“Oh yea? About what?” Yang's low tone made her look over. Her eyes were somewhat lidded as she scanned Weiss’ face. When Weiss swallowed, she watched Yang's eyes track the movement down her throat. Weiss felt like she was on fire. 

Weiss exhaled as she tried to come up with a response. 

“I..”

“Hey guys! Whats up?”

Weiss jerked back from Yang and whipped around. Neon and Flint had made their way over to the table, inviting themselves to sit on the other side of the booth. 

“Hey you two.” Yang said casually, as if her and Weiss hadn’t been close to making out a few seconds ago. “Where's Kobalt and Ivori?”

Flint responded, “Went home, they have a mission tomorrow they need to prepare for.” Yang hummed in response. 

Neon leaned over the table resting on her elbows as she looked at Yang. “How's your night going firecracker?” She asked with a wink. 

Weiss bristled. Yang let out a chuckle. “It's been interesting for sure.” 

Weiss looked up when Blake silently returned, setting down their glasses on the table. She gave only a slight “hey guys” to Flint and Neon before settling back into Weiss’ side, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. 

“Well with you, things are always interesting I'm sure.” Neon said, with a flirtatious wave of her hand. Weiss had to suppress an eye roll. Really? 

“Something wrong kitty-cat?” Apparently, Blake didn't bother suppressing the urge.

It was Blake’s turn to bristle. “No, nothing.” Blake’s body language told her otherwise.

Neon's eyes scanned the three of them, a small, mischievous smile made its way into her face. 

“What do you say firecracker, wanna hit the dance floor?” 

Somehow, Weiss felt all three of them tense up. No. Absolutely not. Weiss thought. But who was she to tell Yang otherwise? She wasn't her girlfriend. Weiss sat back, leaning into Yang's arm, bitterly glaring at the girl across the table, but didn’t say anything. Weiss snuck a glance at Blake. She had a neutral expression on her face but her ears were pinned back defensively. 

(Blakes ears always gave up what she was feeling, even if her face never did. Weiss would think later about how pretty she looks without her bow.)

Before anyone snapped though, Yang spoke up to answer Neon's question. 

“Actually, the three of us were just about to go dance. Maybe next time?” Yang added the last part out of courtesy. 

Neon however, didn't seem too hurt by this statement at all as she sat back in the booth. She scanned over the three with a small smirk on her face. 

“Don't worry, I get it.”

“Get what?” Weiss heard her voice go up an octave and tried not to cringe. 

Neon just casually shrugged, looking pointedly at the places the three girls were linked together. Blakes body leaning into Weiss, Weiss tucked closely into the crook of Yang's side, Yang's arm hanging loosely over both of their shoulders, completing the circle. 

Neon threw them all a wink then turned to her partner. “Come on Flynt, I don't think we’re invited on their date.” 

Flynt chucked and tipped his hat to the other three. “Have a great night ladies. Get out there, that dance floor is waiting for you.”

The three girls watched the two walk away in shock. It was a few minutes before one of them spoke again.

“So,” Blake cleared her throat, “you guys wanna go dance?”

“Yes.”

“Oh absolutely.”

_________________

It started out light and fun. The three girls moving around happily with each other to the music, giggling and poking fun. Yang was a surprisingly great dancer. She was showing off her moves while Blake laughed behind her hand and Weiss pretended to be annoyed. 

That changed when the music did. Going from upbeat and poppy, to low and sultry with a heavy base line. They were already standing close to one another. Weiss felt the atmosphere around them change instantly. 

Blake, to Weiss’ surprise, made the first move. Stepping in close and pulling Weiss in by the hips so they were facing each other. Weiss instinctively raised her hands to Blakes shoulders, palms resting on her collarbones. 

Blake bent over a bit and Weiss had to tilt her head back so she could keep eye contact. She felt Blakes heart hammering against her palm. She slid her hands up and around Blakes neck, locking them together. 

She was so focused on the girl in front of her that she didn't notice Yang coming up from behind. She gasped when Yang's warm front pressed against her. She yanked Weiss’ hips back into hers, Blake being dragged forward in the process too, until they were all melded together. 

Yang started to move, swaying slowly behind her, her hands encouraging Weiss to follow her movements. Weiss felt heat in her chest, filling her up then poring lower. Her hands tightened around Blakes neck and pulled her impossibly closer until their legs slotted together. 

Weiss’ senses were overloaded as two sets of hands were on her body. Yangs’ stayed grounded on her hips, controlling how she moved. They squeezed and rubbed, but stayed there, radiating heat. She was having a more difficult time keeping track of Blakes hands. Currently, one was on her rib cage and the other was sliding up, up, until long fingers held her chin. When they tightened and forced her head up, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily, too overwhelmed. She could feel Blakes breath on her face. 

When she felt a hand leave her hip she forced her eyes open. She watched with lidded eyes as Yang reached over her to grip the back of Blakes neck over her own hands. Even if she couldn't see Yang, she could tell the two girls were giving each other heated eyes, if Blakes jaw-slacked look was any indication. 

Unable to stop herself, Weiss leaned forward and ran her tongue along Blakes exposed collar bone. She heard the Faunus gasp loudly. 

“Hey.” Yang's voice was hoarse. “As much as I want this to continue, we’re drawing a crowd.”

That seemed to lift the haze over Weiss’ eyes momentarily. She looked around. There was a fair amount of people staring at the three. Weiss did her best to shoot them all an irritated look. 

Blake took a half step back, but didn’t pull away completely. Weiss watched with interest as she and Yang had a silent conversation over her shoulder. Apparently they came to a non-verbal agreement and when Blake looked back to Weiss, Yang was already pulling away. 

“Lets go outside?” 

Weiss couldn't use her words just yet, so instead, she wrapped her hand around Blakes wrist, the one that was now cupping her face, and nodded. 

Yang grabbed Blakes hand leading them away. Blake put her other arm around Weiss and pulled her close to her side as they walked outside, ignoring all the eyes that followed them. 

____________

The cold Atlas air felt great on Weiss’ skin. She hadn't realized how sweaty the three of them got in there. They were in the back alley behind the dance club, she could still hear the muffled music coming from the closed door. The only light shining from the broken moon above them, dimly lighting the alleyway. 

The three were only outside for a few seconds before Weiss was pushed lightly into the brick wall behind her. She looked up to see Blake, arms placed on either side of her head on the wall. She watched the other girl swallow heavily as her eyes were locked onto Weiss’ lips. 

“What do you think kitten?” Yang wrapped both of her arms around Blakes middle and rested her chin on her shoulder. 

Blake tilted her head a bit, never looking away from Weiss’ face. Even with the cold air around them, Weiss still felt hot under the pair's heated gaze. 

Finally finding her voice, Weiss started to speak up. 

“I…” She took a breath and tried again. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to take it so far, I just..” Weiss felt too many emotions bubble up inside her. Most notably, longing. 

She grabbed the lapels of Blakes coat and pulled her in. “I want you.” She found she couldn't speak above a whisper. The raw emotion in her voice making it hard to breath. She looked over Blakes shoulder to look at Yang. “Both of you.”

Weiss’ chest felt tight from being so open, vulnerable. She didn't plan for this to take an emotional turn. She felt tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. 

It was Yang that bridged the gap this time, reaching out with her robotic arm to cup Weiss’ face gently, running her thumb over her cheek to wipe away a stray tear. 

“We want you too.” Though Yang spoke it quietly, Weiss heard it as a scream. Relief washed over her in waves. She took a shaky breath and more tears spilled from her eyes. 

Blake gently pulled her in to rest Weiss’ head in the crook of her neck as she cried softly. Weiss gripped the back of Blakes coat and reached out blindly with her other hand to do the same to Yangs, fisting the front of her shirt and pulling her closer, until they were all huddled together in an embrace. 

They stayed there until Weiss’ tears had dried and her white-knuckled grip on the two loosened. She pulled away and looked them both in the eyes, noticing that both sets were watery. 

“Okay.” She said softly as Yang pressed her forehead into hers. “Okay.”

They all jumped when suddenly the alarms blared through the streets of Mantel. Lights turning red around them, signaling trouble.

“Shit,” Blake said through gritted teeth, looking around, “Grimm.”

They all looked back at one another, taking a moment to cherish the last couple seconds they had. 

Weiss straightened up and nodded at the two. “Okay.” Determination heavy in her voice. They all turned to run from the alley, loading their weapons in the process. 

Later, they would have time, just for them. Right now, it was time to do their jobs.

[xenoredux]

Balto but its been rewritten 24 years after its release

Okay so here's the Balto rewrite lol. It's quite a bit different then The Actual Thing but the plot itself is much the same, as are the major beats of the story. I dropped a lotta goofy shit in there just because it made me laugh, but try and imagine this stuff happening as if it's from an actual 90s movie made by a studio on its last legs.

Some things to know going into it:

I cut out the live actions segments because they seriously didn't matter at all. Like, who cares. The plot is fine without them and I don't think that one line from Rosie at the end makes a huge difference. I guess it's nice to see the statue but even than it's like..... whatever

In my fantasy world, Balto was a standalone movie that didn't spark any sequels. Eventually I'll write out my version of the sequels if they'd actually been good, but in the universe of this rewrite for this film, a Balto "franchise" never existed, hence why the ending is sorta different

It's still a "historical" fiction that holds very little relation to the actual events. There's a touch more actual history in there, but c'mon. You're not reading talking dog movie fanfic to learn anything. Pick up a book if you care about the actual serum run and don't get on my juicy ass about it if some things remain inaccurate

Please also note that I didn't baby this as much as I should have, so some major plot elements that are kinda stupid are likely still in there (I'm not a good writer lbr). I don't believe this is necessarily "better" then the OG, I just tweaked some stuff that always pissed me off about it. I also re-included cut content I thought was more interesting and made more sense then what we ended up getting. 

There's also a handful of fake screenshots throughout for shits and giggles, and I'll likely have at least one or two more to share later this month. Some links to past character designs are also provided for easy reference so you can make up scenes in your head but with Brand Spankin’ New Designz.

So here's Balto v2.0!

The year is 1925, and it's wintertime in Nome, Alaska. Two dogsled teams are participating in a race. A malamute named Steele leads his team against a powerful, but older and more experienced mutt named Wild Joe. Steele, despite being a decorated and much beloved champion lead dog, is a massive dick, and he snaps at a critical moment at one of Joe's teammates. Joe's team wipes out, his chances of winning are in shambles, and Steele is waaay in the lead.

A flare is shot into the air to let the enthused waiting townsfolk know that Steele's team has passed the race's 3 mile mark. Meanwhile, watching from his perch on the balcony of a house, a wolfdog named Balto excitedly bounds back and forth, unable to contain his excitement. He simply cannot sit still despite the protests of his closest friend Boris, an old Russian-Jewish goose who isn't a fan of all the excitement. Balto drags Boris around the roofs of the houses, ignoring his chiding all the while, until he can see the finish line of the race.

Back down on Earth, a young girl named Rosie is inside a woodworker's shop. She's receiving a gift she adores: a beautiful handmade sled, perfectly fitted to her size. The sled includes a harness in front that also perfectly fits her dog, a purebred copper Siberian husky named Jenna. Rosie's parents playfully lecture her to not lose the sled like she loses her other belongings. Almost as quickly as she receives the sled, Rosie and Jenna are trotting down the street in their new getup.

Jenna comes to rest in the race's sidelines among a group of other female dogs. The smallest of them all, a Pomeranian named Dixie, chides Jenna for allowing herself to be made a sled dog, even if it is in the spirit of make believe. After all, a canine of her slender frame and social standing shouldn't be performing manual labor. Jenna sighs at her friend's internalized misogyny and eugenics talk, rolling her eyes as if to say "oh you!"

Nor should someone of her persuasion be meeting up with any strays, Dixie continues while going on to show her racist side, for Balto and Boris have just plodded up to the group. The other girls scoff and huff at Balto's arrival, but Jenna and Rosie both are glad to see him. Rosie gives the wolfdog a hug, telling him to keep outta sight of The Parental Units. Just then, Steele's team rounds the corner, and Rosie waves her hat at them as if it's a foam finger and this is the most arduous baseball game in history. A sudden gust of wind picks up her hat and sweeps it into the path of the oncoming team. Rosie begins to panic and, while Jenna soothes her, Balto runs out alongside the advancing sled team to retrieve it.

Balto manages to snag and deliver the hat before Steele passes the finish line, which visibly upsets Steele. His owner speaks to the man who leads Wild Joe's team. He seems unimpressed with Steele's performance, enough so that Wild Joe's owner admits it's likely time that Joe was retired. The two imply that if a sled dog can't even outrun Steele, it's time for him to hang up his harness, even if he is wearing a bitchin' little number they speak in awe of called "A Golden Collar", a veritable necklace of medals awarded to sled dogs who have proven they don't suck. As one can imagine, this pisses Steele off something fierce. He gazes into the reflection of his face in his own golden collar, getting a bit of anger-saliva on it in the process.

The important thing, of course, is that Balto managed to save Rosie's hat. Jenna thanks him and playfully teases him about how nuts he'd have to be to do something like run alongside a car made of dogs, to which the quiet Balto just smiles. Rosie's dad isn't smiling very much, though, because all he saw was the town's favorite punching bag running wild with his daughter's hat. He swears at Balto and kicks snow his way, spooking him into running off down the street. Rosie's dad herds his child away, scolding her for playing with wild animals, while Jenna tries to follow her friend. Unable to recognize where he's not wanted, Steele blocks Jenna's path and starts flexing about his elite gamer/sledding skills. The other girl dogs can barely contain their ovaries around him, but Jenna just politely excuses herself as Steele begins spouting off insensitive remarks about "the howler from the cannery".

But Balto's not going home just yet. He knows exactly how to navigate the neighborhood and find his companion. Boris complains about the cold and how much he's walked around today, so he pisses off back to to their place. Balto simply shrugs and wanders until he finds Jenna again. He trails behind her, hiding in various places along the street as Jenna follows her masters home. Jenna talks passionately about how she'd love to do something big and hella just to show up guys like Steele. Balto encouragingly comments on how he's sure she'd be the best at whatever she did, and she smiles at him in a particularly heterosexual way.

Eventually the two part ways, and Balto decides it's time to go home. As he trots along, he notices a glove that Rosie dropped. He smiles and rolls his eyes as he picks it up and turns to head to Jenna's and give it back. Unfortunately for him, Steele's ego bruises like a banana and heals just about as well, so the meat-headed malamute has dragged along his team to harass the town's token minority once he was alone. The only dog on the team who seems against harassing someone for something they can't control is Star, Steele's smaller, weaker, more cowardly little brother. Steele jeers at Star for being too much of a puss to participate in the g-rated hate crime before rolling a barrel in Balto's direction. Balto's bowled over by it and falls face first into a bucket.

Steele's team howls with laughter, then literally howls in an effort to insult Balto. The words "howler" and "feral" are thrown around a lot as Balto struggles to free his face from the pail. He never manages to, and before Steele can harass him some more, his musher calls out for him and the rest of the team. Steele calls his men to his side and makes his way out. The only one who trails behind is Star, who gingerly pops the bucket off of Balto's head. The two stare wordlessly at each other for a moment, the stunned Balto dwarfing the underdeveloped Star, before Star gets too scared to stay any longer and books it. Balto looks around himself for Rosie's mitten, but he can't find it. He sighs and begins heading towards the harbor.

As Balto walks through the cannery, the other stray and unloved dogs take notice of him and begin jeering at him. Despite how pitiful-looking they are, almost all of them feel the need to tell Balto in livid detail about just how shit he is in comparison because of his wolf heritage. Those who don't jeer hateful words hole up and hide from him as he passes them by.

Boris takes notice of Balto returning home, and he goes to wave to him with his one good wing before noticing something peculiar on the hill by the shoreline: wolves! A small pack of wolves take notice of Balto. They even begin howling to him. It's clear that they're inviting him to join their DnD party, and for a tense moment Boris is afraid Balto will run after them. But Balto simply shrinks away, shaking his head. His shoulders slump and he makes his way to the wrecked boat he and Boris live on.

Boris attempts to cheer Balto up with some wAcKy SlApStIcK cOmEdY before having to realize that harming himself is increasingly silly ways will not cure Balto's bigotry induced depression. He slumps against Balto as the two notice a flock of geese flying overhead. Balto asks Boris what it was like in "the old country", and Boris soothes in the most Russian voice ever conceived what are likely concerns he's heard many times before by assuring Balto he came to Alaska for good reason because the old country sucked. He also assures Balto that the busted wing he has was the best thing that ever happened to him, because it meant he got to live in Nome and find that lonely wolfdog kid those several years back. Balto can't help but crack a smile.

When the sun has gone down, Balto begins to leave the hovel he calls home. Boris reminds him to be careful on his nightly excursion to find food, to which Balto merely smiles and nods. He pads past the sleeping cannery dogs and back towards town.

Meanwhile, Jenna is sitting outside of the hospital doorway. She watches as her masters lead Rosie inside. Rosie's gotten a nasty cough, and she makes an odd wheezing noise when she breathes. As mom and pop speak to the very busy doctor, Rosie gazes out the window at Jenna, waving and smiling at her. Jenna stands up excitedly, but feels her heart sink into her stomach as Rosie has the sort of coughing fit a Flintstone's chewable can't fix. Her parents come to lead her away from the window. Jenna tries her damnedest to find a way to peer inside from around the back. There is a window, but she's unable to reach it, even as she's standing on her hind legs.

Balto, dirty from digging around in garbage, spots Jenna's vibrant red coat from across the way. He calls out to her softly, and though she does acknowledge his greeting, she barely responds. This concerns Balto, and he comes to join her under the window. She explains that she wants to see in, and Balto allows her to climb up and stand on his back to do so. She obliges, too worried about Rosie's well-being to thank him, and gazes longingly inside.

She climbs down from Balto a beat later, saying how she wishes she could understand what was happening in there. Most of what went on was just the doctor talking. Balto pauses and thinks for a moment, and then tells Jenna he has an idea. He leads her around to the boiler room placed adjunct to the hospital where the doctor's dog, a St. Bernard appropriately named Doc, spends his nights. The two make their way inside.

Doc is in fact there, snoring like a buzz-saw on crack. Balto gently wakes him up, and at first he's both annoyed to be woken and offput by The Wolfdog being in his face, but when Jenna explains the situation to him he becomes much more amiable. He leads the two over to the crawlspace under the hospital, stating there's far too much of him to love to allow him to fit under with them. Balto and Jenna thank him and go inside.

The two creep through the creepy underside of the hospital until they find themselves under a grate beneath the doctor's desk. The doctor discusses with the nurses how the children of Nome have diphtheria, a fast acting, aggressive disease that causes fatal epidemics. The anti-toxin he was able to treat the first few cases with has run out, and without it, all infected children will surely die within two weeks' time.

Jenna is unsurprisingly distraught at the idea of her favorite person on the planet dying a slow, painful death, so she scrambles out of the crawlspace and begins crying. Balto follows close behind her to see that Doc has already begun to comfort her. He apologizes for bringing Jenna here, to which Jenna states she's glad he did. Aside from Jenna's gentle sobbing, all is silent for a moment. Suddenly, a loud crash can be heard outside. Everyone turns to see Steele and his dogs have come back to ruin another scene. Doc becomes upset at the sudden influx of uninvited guests crowding up his personal space, so he goes to alert the doctor and get them all the fuck outta there. Meanwhile, the team menaces Balto while Steele tries to impress Jenna by pulling Rosie's missing mitten out of his collar. He offers to walk Jenna home to deliver it to her family as the team, lead by a pitifully unintimidating Star, back a snarling Balto into the corner.

Jenna's obviously not interested in Dog Gaston's posturing, but she's also got an IQ higher then 6 and understands that he's not going to go away simply because she asks him to. As Balto watches from out the corner of his eye, Jenna flirtatiously backs Steele into the glowing red boiler. She mutters something about meatballs under her breath as Steele begins to howl and shriek in pain. The smell of burning dog ass and the cries of a defeated jock archetype alert people to the scene, and all the dogs begin to scatter. Balto and Jenna try to join the reverse flash mob, but Steele flings himself hard into Balto and forces all of them to stumble. Lanterns shine in the literal dogpile's direction. Steele refuses to get off of Balto, so Balto insists that Jenna get away. She forgets about Rosie's mitten, which Balto snags to keep away from Steele's posturing self, and the men finally descend upon the dogs.

Someone pulls Steele off of Balto, and he begins making as if he's injured, intentionally limping and stumbling melodramatically around. The men start to make a fuss about the wolfdog injuring the town's best runner when one of them, Rosie's dad, notices his daughter's missing mitten in Balto's mouth. He begins yelling and kicking at the dog, going on about how he's dangerous and he'd better not go anywhere near his child ever again. Balto tucks tail and barrels out of town, and all the men stroke a miraculously healed Steele to compensate for the trauma of being attacked by a dog half his size.

As Balto pounds pavement, he passes the telegraph office, wherein an important message is being sent. A request for more anti-toxin to treat the epidemic is being relayed, and in it are the details of why this situation is uniquely urgent: the Alaskan winter is doing its worst, bringing blizzards severe enough that ships and planes alike cannot manage to deliver the medicine. Nome's best bet becomes obvious: use a train to deliver the medicine as closely to Nome as they can, then set up relay teams of sled dogs to receive and deliver the anti-toxin.

The morning after the message has been sent, the town organizes a race to test which dogs in town have the highest stats in stamina, speed, and agility. Almost every husky in town is lined up to race... all except a very upset Jenna, who keeps insisting the other dogs make room for her. Some dogs look at her with concern. Others laugh. But most of them seem convinced that her place is here in Nome, keeping her people company and not chipping any of her nails. Dixie tries to lead Jenna away from the race, but Jenna's so pissed that she angrily stomps away from the race altogether.

Balto, who has been hiding around town this whole time, slips out of the shadows to meet her. She vents loudly to him about being disallowed to participate because of the snot-nosed chauvinists running the race. If Balto didn't know the depth of her conviction before, he certainly does now; she begins to cry angry tears over what will happen to Rosie.

Balto can't stand to see a grown womandog cry, but he's worried about what will happen if he tries to line up with the other dogs. Everyone believes he attacked Steele, after all. Nobody would tolerate him joining the race... at least, not while they're all there. He wordlessly slips away from Jenna, assuring her he has a plan. In a moment he's disappeared. The race is about to start, and Boris has hobbled into town. He goes over to Jenna and begins complaining about how Balto didn't come home last night. Jenna tells him it's a long story, but that she's sure he'll turn up again soon. Maybe. Hopefully.

The starting gun is fired off, and the dogs take off with the speed and accuracy of drunken Nascar drivers. Just as soon as they've all bolted, Balto boltos past the starting line right in tow, which causes some reasonable upset among the crowd given word of Steele's definitely-real-not-made-up scuffle with the wolfdog has spread fast.

Despite the jeering Balto is faced with, he continues on. By this point, Jenna and Boris have noticed him running, and they begin to cheer him on as they scramble to keep up with him. Turns out wolves and their relatives are pretty fast.

In contrast to the other dogs, Balto's saving grace isn't just his speed, but his ingenuity. Balto breaks off of the track as he begins advancing on the dogs in an effort to avoid their snarling and snapping at him. He shows his cleverness by traversing obstacles like frozen ponds, hanging pulleys, and crumbling wooden beams that bridge buildings, all while maintaining pace with the other dogs. Any townsfolk who are capable of seeing him are too impressed with his abilities to remember his alleged attempted dogmurder.

To the surprise of literally nobody reading this, Balto manages to cross the finish line before anybody else, which includes an especially tilted Steele. Unexpectedly, several townsfolk cheer for our parkour-loving protagonist, and Balto's face lights up in pleasure, having never experienced praise from basically any human person.

Steele and Wild Joe's mushers come around to give Balto the once over, discussing how he'd be an invaluable asset to any team. Joe's musher believes he'd made a good replacement for Joe now that that dog's been laid off of his animaljob. Balto ingratiates his coy self with a gentle tail wag, and Steele has literally never been more angry in his life. His ego as sore as a freshly kicked-in face, Steele looks around for some way to prove Balto is totes nasty. A toothy grin spreads across his face as he spots Jenna leading a hobbling Boris over, and he quickly rushes the goose and snags him up, carrying him away.

Balto doesn't like seeing his surrogate feathered father being doghandled, so he snarls and chases after Steele, startling the men. The men follow Balto, who is following Steele, who is following his own evil agenda. Steele tosses Boris off the nearby harbor, and the bird struggles to collect himself in the icy water. Balto rushes Steele, still snarling. This spooks Steele's musher, and he begins throwing rocks at Balto. The man tells the wolfdog to stay away from his animal, and he states to Wild Joe's musher why Balto would be useless as a sled dog: he can't manage to get along with other canines. He's too wild. The two men collect Steele and depart as Balto similarly collects Boris, who is little more then a honking popsicle by now.

As Balto begins carrying Boris home, Jenna stops him and asks what happened. Balto gruffly states that Jenna's master would be angry to see her speaking to him. After all, he doesn't get along with other dogs given how wild he is. Jenna is so surprised by her friend lashing out at her that she can't speak, and she watches solemnly and wordlessly as Balto and Boris make like Rosie's health and disappear.

That night, the relay teams are being dispatched. The electric cross hanging on the church steeple is turned on - the pastor says that so long as there's hope for the children, the light will stay lit and the electric bill will stay high - and a handful of teams are sent out, including Steele's. The sick children watch from inside the hospital. Jenna watches from her new favorite spot just under one of the hospital's front windows, her face contorted in worry. From his ship, Balto ignores Boris's cacophanic snoring as he watches the teams head out. He gives a sigh.

A day passes as the relay teams power through the awful weather. Steele's team receives the medicine from another team who just had it delivered to them by train. Now Steele's gang is intended to deliver the medicine once again to the team of a dog named Togo. Unfortunately, Steele's unwarranted self-importance prevents this, as he dislikes the idea of not being the guy to deliver the goods to town. He tells Star that he doesn't need to follow the rules of the relay - he knows the way home and he can do this himself. He intentionally ignores the path to Togo and drags his team helplessly onward, and none of them but Star are any the wiser.

The governor's dog calls a meeting in the boiler room for all the other dogs in town. It's been longer then the townsfolk expected it to take for the meds to arrive, and everyone is getting ants in their collective pants. Balto watches the meeting from outside a window to maintain some discreetness. Doc tries to calm everybody down once they begin panicking, but they're all too much in a tizzy thinking about what will happen to the kids to hear him. Suddenly, the rabbling of the crowd is halted when a sharp, reverberating bark cuts through the noise. Everyone turns to the door.

In the doorframe stands the tall, bulky silhouette of an unknown beefcake. The dog steps into the light, and Wild Joe finally announces his presence verbally and not just cinematically. He informs the dogs that he's had a lot of time to wander since being unharnessed, and tonight he wandered by the telegraph office. He's a gifted enough fella to understand Morse code and the hopeless sighs of an old man sending 1800s text messages, and he informs the dogs that Steele's team broke the relay chain. Nobody knows where they are, which means, more importantly, nobody knows where the medicine is. Wild Joe suggests that the dogs make peace with the passing of their childfolk before he steps back outside and disappears into the snowy night.

Whatever the dogs inside the boiler room are saying, Balto can't hear it. Not just because their voices are drowning each other out, but because he's stricken with too much grief to care. Rosie has only been getting worse. What's going to happen to her?

Meanwhile in the hospital, the doctor is managing as well as one can to explain to the parents of the sick children that their one hope of salvation may or may not be lost to the elements forever. This barely registers with the horribly ill Rosie who, despite being in the same room as a doctor forcing her parents to confront her mortality, is now too sick to lift her head from her pillow. In an effort to afford their child a sliver of comfort, Rosie's folks allows Jenna into her room. Jenna pads loyally over to her girl, and for just a second Rosie's eyes flutter open. "Jenna?" is all she can manage to wheeze out before passing back into unconsciousness. Jenna gloomily rests her head on her owner's chest, whimpering softly.

Balto pads through town. Nobody is really out at night anymore. They're all crowding the hospital to keep close to their children. Balto's main goal is to find Jenna, to discuss this horrible thing with her, but he's distracted as he passes by the woodworker's shop. The same jolly man who had made Rosie her bitchin' new sled was now hunched sadly over a new, much less bitchin', much more morbid project: tiny coffins, each no bigger then 4 feet tall. A small collection of them has formed in a corner of the room. Balto shakes his head and gasps, breaking out of a stupor he was not previously aware he was in. Something has to be done.

The morning sun is peaking out over the horizon when Balto begins to depart from his home. He trots down from the harbor and along the shoreline, aiming to enter the forest the teams left through. Boris is plodding behind him, slipping around on frozen patches of sea water and flopping around in puddles of slush. He's going on and on, trying desperately to convince Balto not to waste his efforts on a town of people who'd be perfectly happy if he were dead. Balto doesn't reply, instead flashing Boris a solemn look. His eyes light up with new intention, and he grabs Boris by the beak, dragging him along as the old goose honks angrily.

Balto releases Boris as the two come to the back of the hospital. Jenna, who had once again settled out front, hears the commotion of the intensely pissed off bird wailing and honking. Balto wordlessly releases Boris, and just before Boris can complain further, Jenna comes over to the two. She and Balto share one miserable, knowing look before Jenna begins to cry. She presses her face into Balto's neck, weeping softly into his fur. Another child is herded into the hospital by a concerned parent. The girl wheezes and shakes violently as the door closes behind her. Boris looks on, all anger having subsided. 

Instead, he says in a very business-like tone that Balto needs to hurry up if he's going to find the lost team. And he shouldn't keep Boris waiting. Boris is an old man who hates waiting more then he hates traveling. Boris begins to waddle off back towards the forest, and Balto can't help but smile. Jenna presses the pause button on crying long enough to ask what Boris means, to which Balto states that neither he nor his old man can stand idly by any longer.

Jenna understands, and she insists that the two allow her to come with them. It pains her to leave Rosie, but the child is barely ever awake at this point, and inaction won't make the situation better. Balto's smile grows wider, and the three take off to find the missing team themselves.

Hours pass. The three haven't ceased their journey, nor does it seem they've given up hope. Boris certainly has got a lot to bitch about, though. And he does this loudly and frequently as Balto and Jenna lead the way, exchanging words. Jenna vents about how it's ludicrous that Steele, a gloryhound who loves the smell of his own farts, was even selected to do the relay given how hard he is to handle. Balto agrees, if a bit softly. Jenna interrogates him gingerly, asking what happened the day of the race. Balto admits that the townsfolk have gone even more sour on him as of late, and that he's been genuinely afraid to be around anybody now... except for Jenna, of course. Jenna reassures him with the same viciously heterosexual smile as before that she'll stand by him no matter what. Balto can't help but smile back.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the frozen over Hell that is Alaska, Steele is blindly trying to redirect his team onto the trail, but the trail has long gone from his sight. Star, exhausted and growing antsier by the minute, suggests turning around and going back; it's totally obvious now that they're lost. Steele buckles for just a moment before snapping at his brother about how he knows where he's going and, having just told the worst lie in history, begins running directionlessly through the blizzard.

Expectedly, this sends his team careening down into a gully he failed to notice on account of the whole reduced visibility thing. The sled tips over - though it seems the anti-toxin is still secured and unbroken - the musher falls out and hits his head on a rock, and the dogs tumble into a heap. Some of them are bruised. Some of them are worse. But nobody is dead, not even the flame dancing inside the musher's lantern. The only thing that looks dead is Steele's spirit. He stares wide eyed and panting as he realizes the team truly is lost. "What are we gonna do now, Steele?" Star asks hopelessly. Steele doesn't respond.

Night has fallen. It's cold as shit out in the forest, but the three musketeers haven't ceased their journeying yet. Boris, effectively feeding into every stereotype about old men ever, complains about how long this road trip has lasted. Neither Balto nor Jenna have the energy left to respond to him, so they don't. Boris gets huffy and says the kids can keep going if they want, but it's time for him to sleep. He decides to set up a nest on a large snowdrift, and Balto finally gets frustrated and turns to explain to Boris that there's no time to stop now. And then the snowdrift stands up.

A polar bear, hulking and powerful, is standing on its hind legs in front of the dogs. A screaming Russian goose is flapping around on the crown of its head, and the bear immediately begins trying to attack its winged hat. Balto leaps to his grandhonk's rescue, but the bear lands an easy hit on him and sends him flying. The goose isn't nearly as threatening as the wolfdog, so the bear turns to Balto, ready to tear him to pieces.

This understandably displeases Jenna, and she flings herself headlong into the bear to save her friends. She's more lithe and agile then Balto is, which makes it easy for her to dodge most of the bear's swings, but she's not as quick as Balto is, so she still ends up taking a pretty nasty blow to the legs. She flies across the forest floor and strikes Boris, knocking them both to the ground. Meanwhile, Balto's trying to deal with the bear situation on his own. He's not doing so hot, though, as the bear makes like a 90s sitcom bully and starts wailing on him. This sends Balto careening down a hill and across a frozen lake.

The bear quickly follows him. It doesn't seem to notice the ice below it cracking like splintering glass as it walks towards Balto, but Balto sure as hell does. And so do Jenna and Boris, who, despite their injuries, are scrambling to reach Balto before the ice gives. But they're too little too late. The bear takes another step and the busted ice snap crackle pops apart, taking the bear under as it shatters. Balto stumbles away from the gaping icehole that's growing larger and larger.

The bear is thrashing wildly around, foaming up the water and swinging its claws around in the air. Boris thinks fast and grabs Jenna's bandanna to toss out to Balto. As the bear struggles to grab both Balto and the edge of the ice, Balto snags hold of the bandanna and hangs on as his friends drag him from the freezing water. As Balto collapses to the ground, the bear's struggles begin to subside, and finally it drowns.

Balto is badly shaken, but ultimately unharmed. Jenna, however, bit total shit, and now that Balto is safe her strength has left her. Balto and Boris drag Jenna off the lake and lay her down. Balto lays down beside her, shivering hard from his time in the water. Without thinking about it, Jenna pulls herself on top of him, murmuring about how cold he is. Balto tries to argue she should go easy given her injury, but the two go silent instead, smiling gently at each other. Then Balto's eyes light up as he turns to Boris. He thanks the bird for not just saving him, but for coming along in the first place. Boris absolutely beams.

But his grin disappears when the dogs get up... and Jenna falls back down. Balto insists she's too hurt to continue the journey. After all, who knows when they'll find the team? Jenna tries to argue, but falters when Balto insists that without her help he'd be dead now, and he'd be devastated if something happened to her out here. Jenna asks Boris to take her back to Nome when she notices that he's waddled a short distance away. He's gazing intently at something, looking worried and guilty. Balto pads over to where Boris is staring into space to see what the fuss is about.

Turns out the fuss is about two hairy little things: twin polar bear cubs. One is slightly bigger then the other, though he may just be bigger boned then his brother. The two are huddled close to each other, whimpering and cooing. It's obvious they're very young, toddlers at most. "Oh no," murmurs Balto. The cubs gaze up at the two with wide, frightened eyes. Nobody has to guess what happened to their mother, and Balto feels himself overwhelmed with guilt too.

The cubs follow Boris closely as Balto goes back to Jenna. He tells her that he's sorry she can't continue the journey, but that she can help by keeping the bear cubs safe until they know what to do with them. Jenna agrees and the two smile warmly at each other. Jenna offers up her bandanna to Balto "to keep him warm" despite how small it is as Boris helps her onto a large tree branch. Boris begins instructing the cubs on how to help, going demanding grandad on them in record time, and Jenna wishes Balto good luck. Boris pulls Balto aside and, out of obligation to the source material, tells Balto that a dog cannot make such a journey alone... but maybe a wolf can. The group depart, leaving Balto by himself in the snow.

It's a snowy night in Nome. A somber mood hangs so thickly in the air that one can almost taste the chunky sadness. The streets are empty aside from one stray black mass. It's Wild Joe, makin' his way downtown. He passes the hospital and sees a child who is obviously ill but not in bed. Joe's face crinkles in pain as the child, a boy, coughs so hard he wracks his body in great tremors. Joe pulls himself away from the sight and, face to the ground, starts walking faster. In a moment he passes the telegraph office. His ears perk rhythmically to the beeps of the morse code. He whispers sweet nothings to himself like, "Cannot send more antitoxin. Weather too severe. Lost sled team only hope. Our prayers are with them."

Meanwhile, in a somehow less depressing part of the Alaskan tundra, Balto has finally caught sight of a glowing pink light. The wind is too hard for him to smell properly, but as he mounts a rise in the path, he can see clearly what rests at the bottom of the slope. It's the team! The pink glow is the light from the sled's lantern. Balto's so beside himself with joy that he throws himself headlong down the slope, previously unaware of how slippery the embankment really was. He only just manages to gain his footing at the bottom of the hill. The sled dogs look up at him in amazement, unfurling themselves from the miserable balls of fur they'd tried desperately to wrap themselves in. "Balto!" is heard in a wave of gasps.

Balto begins asking a slew of questions. What happened, is the musher okay, etc. etc. Everyone does their best to answer. Everyone, that is, except Steele, who has been sulking wordlessly since Balto arrived. Once he's gotten a satisfactory amount of info on the situation, Balto picks up one of the now empty harnesses on the sled and tells the dogs he can lead them home. Steele is none too pleased with this, and he steps on the harness, jerking it out of Balto's mouth. Steele insists the dogs will be able to find their way home by themselves - after all, he's leading them.

Everyone immediately becomes uncomfortable as the tension rises. Balto shrugs, assures Steele that he can do as he likes, but that the kids need the anti-toxin and they need it now. Balto knows the way back for certain, so he'd be happy to just take the medicine. Steele just about goes batshit at the suggestion, crouching over the crate of medicine like a wild animal, snarling at Balto. He threatens to rip Balto to pieces if he so much as tries to touch the crate. Someone tells Steele to lighten up, and Steele just about shits himself.

He flings himself headlong into Balto, telling him to get out and leave them be. In the scuffle, the medicine crate is tipped over, where it begins sliding down a tiny incline towards a cliff's edge. Balto eyes it nervously and tries to get to it, but Steele continually throws himself at Balto, snapping and snarling and threatening. The other dogs begin telling Steele to stop, that Balto isn't worth it. Star suggests that maybe just this once the howler might be useful, so the team might want to listen to him. Balto looks Steele dead in the eyes and tells him that children are going to die if everyone can't be all kumbaya for a second.

Steele sneers eerily and simple states that he doesn't care. And with that, he outright flings himself into Balto, tearing into him viciously enough to send him whimpering in pain. The fight halts for just a moment as Steele looks down at the wolfdog, who is now battered and bleeding. Steeles give a triumphant huff and bares his fangs before he notices something. The other dogs are advancing on him. They've stopped their gawking long enough to realize that Steele's intentions haven't just soured. They were never good in the first place. The medicine crate continues its gradual trip down the incline.

Steele is spooked by the dogs encircling him, and he demands they get away from him and back into their harnesses. Meanwhile, Balto, despite his injuries, has wormed his way over to the escaping crate of anti-death juice, finally securing it between his paws. Star turns and notices this, praising him. The other dogs gaze over at him too, finally realizing he's probably an okay guy actually. If Steele was angry before, he's furious now. He leaps over the hoard of dogs that had formed a tight circle around him and barrels at Balto and the medicine, screaming for the wolfdog to let it go. Balto quickly shoves the medicine away from the cliff as Steele snags him by the bandanna. The two dogs teeter totter on the side of the cliff before the bandanna rips in half. Steele unceremoniously falls off the cliff's edge, tumbling down into the valley below.

Balto cringes at the sight as Steele refuses to get up from his epic fail landing. Still, there's no time to lose. Balto hobbles over to the sled, surprised to find the other dogs are securing themselves in their harnesses. All except three, that is. One dog, a Chinook by the name of Kaltag, notices an especially icky wound on Balto's leg, and he uses what remains of Jenna's bandanna to wrap it. Another dog, a chow mix named Nikki, is placing the musher in the sled. The man's in rough shape, but he's still alive. Finally Balto takes his place at the head of the team, where Star is holding the harness up for him. Balto slips into it, and it fits like a glove. He takes a moment to breathe and marvel at the situation.

The dog sled takes off again. As it departs, a couple of white paws grapple their way up the cliff's edge. Steele hoists himself out of the valley. He's bruised all over, but he's alive, and he's none too happy. He wastes no time. He tucks the remains of Jenna's bandanna into his collar and begins rushing after the dogs. The guy may be bulky and injured, but he's full of enough rage adrenaline (ragedrenaline?) to overpower an elephant's higher thinking, and he's not slowing down til the sled has stopped.

It doesn't take long for Steele to catch up to Balto. He tells Balto to stop the sled and leave the team alone, but Balto insists Steele doesn't know the way. The other dogs all but tell Steele to fuck off given they've seen what kind of person he is, but Steele doesn't care. He pulls out a handy dandy trick he's been itching to repeat since the beginning of this summary and snaps at Balto's legs, tripping him up. Balto regains his footing quickly enough so as not to slow down the team, but oh no! A moment later, Steele snaps again, this time grabbing Balto's injured ankle.

The wolfdog can't recover so easily from that, and he falls over. The team goes tripping and spilling across the icy forest floor. Steele allows himself to fall behind and watch the destruction unfold. The team is barreling towards another cliff's edge, and Balto's meager frame isn't enough to cancel out the laws of inertia. Balto slides out of his harness as the other dogs try to stall their descent, finally bringing everything to a standstill as the crate of medicine teeters on the cliff's edge.

Balto dives forward and snags the crate, and the team praises him... seconds before the cliff's edge starts to crumble. As the rock breaks to pieces beneath his feet, Balto and the antitoxin fall into the snowy abyss below. "Aaaaaa," is how Kevin Bacon put it.

The next morning, everyone is abuzz is Nome. The people even pull themselves away from their sick kids in the excitement, curious to see what's happening. Something has arrived, though it's not the medicine. The dogs are equally riveted, huddled in the boiler room to discuss their own canine-centric news.  Turns out Jenna returned home the previous night, aided by two polar bear cubs and a goose. The dogs prattle on excitedly, asking a weary Jenna all about her journey. But, in all honesty, they seem most concerned with how - and further, why - Jenna would ever be brave or foolish enough to pair with a howler while on a wild goose/dog/plot chase.

Jenna tiredly begins to explain what happened, why the goose and bears were there, etc. when a ruckus can be heard outside. The dogs all look up, but nobody gets up. Not yet. A few moments pass, and then the door, which has been only halfway open up to this point, swings open in full. Standing in the doorway is Togo's team, along with an exhausted looking Steele. Togo remarks that they found the dumb jock wandering delirious through the cold. He was just lucky enough to meander past their relay station. Togo shrugs and leaves the room.

Everyone immediately starts flipping shit again, asking a new flurry of questions so loudly they drown each other out. Finally, Steele breaks the silence by asking "Where's Jenna?" Everyone goes quiet and looks over at the token girl husky. Steele pads over to the middle of the room, looking at Jenna but speaking to everyone, as he explains in a voice so sincere it's sickening that his team died in the cold. Balto did in fact find him, the last dog alive, but all he cared about was taking the anti-toxin away. Balto never meant well, Steele asserts, his chest heaving with every passionate word. All he wanted to do was get back at the town for turning its back on him! Everyone gasps except Jenna and a stoic figure sitting in the corner of the room.

Steele says that Balto took the anti-toxin and, in a desperate effort to get revenge on Nome for never accepting his boorish, violent ways, threw it and himself over the edge of a cliff. The medicine, and presumably every bone in the wolfdog's body, shattered on impact. Why, Steele even tried heroically to stop Balto from this suicide mission by grabbing him by Jenna's bandanna, but... He punctuates his speech by handing Jenna the remains of her neckerchief. She gapes at it.

Steele says that this has been a tragedy for certain, but all the dogs must band together and be strong. Heck, he even generously offers to be a shoulder for Jenna to cry on in her time of need. Such a noble guy, that Steele. Except Jenna has a finely tuned 6th sense she uses solely to detect bullshit, and it's going crazy right now. She tells Steele to his face that she knows he's lying. Balto isn't violent. In fact, the primary reason he left to find the team was to save the children. To save Rosie.

The dogs in the crowd begin to murmur among themselves, but Steele casually states that it's such a shame the wolfdog managed to manipulate Jenna so efficiently that she honestly never saw him going feral, never considered his more selfish motives. Steele reminds the room of dogs that Balto attacked him several times before the relay teams were dispatched. Everyone seems a bit swayed by the reminder.

Everyone's trains of thoughts are prevented from actually leaving the station by the dog in the corner clearing his throat. Surprise surprise, the mysterious guy in the shadows was Wild Joe, resident lurker. Steele almost looks intimidated as the dog pads over to him. Joe basically goes off on Steele, detailing how it's hard to believe a dog who has proven himself violent for the sake of winning, is mysteriously the only dog out of about 15 to survive, and thinks himself a hero despite failing to bring back even one ounce of medicine. Everyone is silent as Joe and Steele glare daggers at each other.

Steele huffs at Joe and leaves the room, stating that he won't be insulted this way after having had such a traumatic experience. The dogs watch Steele go, then look at Joe and Jenna, then awkwardly begin to file out. There's nothing else of importance to be said, and damn has it gotten awkward in here.

When the two are alone, Jenna quietly thanks Joe for believing her. Joe snorts and states that he knows what Steele is like and he knows when he's lying. Then Joe tells Jenna plainly that he doesn't have much hope of the anti-toxin arriving, and that even if it did it's too late for his fallen boy. Taken aback at the realization, Jenna expresses sympathy for Joe, but encourages him to keep his chin up. Balto is a dependable dog who won't let the town down, because despite everything he's faced, he understands how important this is. Joe smiles for probably the first time in 50 years, then asks Jenna where the goose and bears she mentioned went.

That night, the electric cross on the church steeple turns off. Rosie's mother notices this from the hospital window, and her husband hopelessly wraps her in a hug. Rosie's condition continues to worsen.

While this is happening, Jenna abandons her post under the hospital window and leads Wild Joe to Balto's boat. Some of the dogs at the cannery ogle Jenna, but Joe sets them straight with a well directed glare and a scolding about the male gaze. Boris and the bear cubs are understandably shaken when they are met with a sentient hunk of muscle, but Jenna assures them that Joe is a friend. Joe makes himself comfortable in Balto's home and asks the goose if he can wait for Balto to come back with him. The two cubs remain anxious around the old dog, who playfully teases them by asking if they think he's gonna turn them into mukluks.

As all this is going on, miles away at the previously mentioned snowy abyss, the snow in the depths of the gorge begins to shift. In a few labored, measured movements, Balto manages to pull himself from the snowbank. He collapses exhausted back into the snow, realizing how dire the situation has truly become. God only knows where the medicine has fallen, let alone whether or not it's shattered. "Kids... Rosie... I'm sorry," is all he can manage to mouth as he begins to weep.

Soundlessly, a large mass moves across the snowy terrain towards him. The world is a void of white, and the figure is too, but when he looks up, Balto can just make out the dark features of a canine face. A majestic white wolf, large enough to dwarf any dog, is gazing down at him with vibrant amber eyes. The wolf howls, then pauses as if waiting for Balto to respond. He doesn't, instead shrinking away in embarrassment. The wolf gives him a strange look, then gazes past him for a moment, then finally withdraws, quickly disappearing from view.

Balto allows his eyes to wander. Suddenly, those wandering eyes widen. The medicine. It's sitting unharmed no more then 10 feet away. And after offering the cliffside its own glance, he believes it might be possible to get it back up.

Balto rises slowly but surely to his feet. He eyes the tracks the white wolf left behind as it departed. He reaches out a paw to touch one, and quickly realizes that his paw fits inside it perfectly. His shame melts away. He raises his head up high, nose aimed at the moon, and lets loose a howl.

As if by magic, the white wolf reappears in the fog. Balto continues to howl, feeling as if it's the most natural thing he's ever done. The wolf rejoins him, and it fills the air with its own howls. The blizzard rages on around the two, but for just a moment it feels as if the world around them shimmers with a newfound clarity.

Up on top of the cliff, the sled team is huddling close together. Their spirits all seem to have been broken by what they presumed was Balto's death and the lose of the medicine. The dogs straighten up, however, upon hearing... the howling of wolves? Everyone huddles in closer together, suddenly terrified. A second later, though, they realize the howling has stopped, effectively being replaced with the sound of shuffling snow. Wait, huh? Everyone peers over the cliffside.

It's Balto, very much not dead, and very much pulling the unharmed crate of anti-toxin behind him. The dogs yap with joy, cheering Balto on as he mounts the cliff. The moment he's within reach, several dogs lift him and the crate the rest of the way up. Balto collapses in the snow, absolutely pooped. He lies there for just a moment, beaming coyly as the dogs praise him for his feat. Is this what it's like to be respected? When Balto can stand again, the dogs go through the motions once more: musher in sled, lantern on crate, crate secured, Balto up front. And nothing can stop them now.

Well, they figure as much, anyway. But they're proven wrong a short while later. The team enters a deep valley, surrounded on all sides like a great white bowl made of high pale mountains. The air is eerily still. And then, breaking the silence, someone sneezes. The sound reverberates around the cereal bowl that is the mountain range. A moment later, a cascade of snowfall begins barreling down the steepest mountain. An avalanche! The team runs for cover in the nearest cave.

As the team enters the cave, the sled thumps loudly against the ground. The dogs hazard a look up as the tinkling sound of ice on ice becomes apparent. To their horror, they see a barrage of icicles begin to plummet down towards them. One severs the handles at the back of the sled, only inches away from the musher's head. Another slams down just beside the medicine crate, causing everyone to promptly flip shit. The team rockets forward as quickly as they can, just managing to clear the cave as the worst of the icicles shatters behind them. Okay, NOW it's gotta be over, right?

Dawn is just about to break. The cannery dogs are all struggling to rest in the cold weather. One of them, a shabby, long nosed creature, gently lifts an ear in his sleep. Some sort of sound is reverbing in the distance, so far away that it can't reach the true populace of Nome. But it's there, and it rouses him awake. Other dogs begin to take notice as well. On Balto's boat, the twin cubs follow Boris to the railing as they listen. The sound starts as a very low bellow, but soon it becomes clear...

Someone is howling. It's a foghorn! It's a train! No, it's... Balto!

Balto lets out another very primitive howl as he and the team advance towards the cannery. Everyone is overcome with joy. They're so close! The cannery dogs begin running to meet the team, eyes bulging in surprise. They didn't expect this because they really only skimmed the story up to this point. The sled team keeps pace, everyone acknowledging the cannery dogs with excited yips, as they continue towards town. Boris and the cubs climb out of the boat to greet Balto.

But the team is brought to a halt as a dog steps directly in front of the sled, unmoving. Everyone rams into one another, but at least the medicine isn't being flung off a cliff this time. The dog who stopped them is, of course, Steele. His bi-colored eyes shimmer menacingly as the sled's lantern's light reflects off of them. He says he's amazed that the dogs made it home, sarcastically giving Balto in particular a "Bravo". Very cute, very heroic.

But what does Balto expect to happen? Does he think all the townspeople are just going to accept that some guy they've always hated brought the medicine back? Balto has no idea what he's gotten himself into. His only choice, obviously, is to slip out of the harness and allow Steele to lead the team back into Nome. Now.

Wild Joe leaps out of Balto's ship, finally coming to see what all the hubbub was about. He pushes his way through the crowd of stunned cannery dogs and glares daggers at Steele, telling him that he never deserved to be the lead dog and now he's still so greedy for glory that he's holding up the cure for a child killing illness. Steele snarls at Joe, clearly not caring about his opinion. Then the other dogs in the crowd begin jeering "Yeah!" and "You tell him!" and various other cliches meant to show solidarity.

But the real surprise comes when the only dog who actually does slip out of his harness is Star. "Steele doesn't deserve credit for this!" Star spits at his big brother. "In fact, he doesn't even deserve the golden collar he's wearing! All he's ever done is boss everyone around. He's bossed me around since we were pups." Everyone's eyes drift towards Steele's neck. The golden collar and all the medals adorning it shimmer dimly. "You're the hero here, Balto," Star continues. "You deserve that collar. And you're gonna wear it."

He steps towards a stunned Steele, looking as frightened but unflappable as a weeaboo asking out a girl he likes, and lunges at Steele's throat. He yanks the collar off in one swift tug, stepping back and letting it fall to the ground at Balto's feet.

Everyone looks equally amazed at the sight of Star standing up to the guy who's shat on him his whole life. Balto looks at the collar before him, then at Star, then at Steele. "Thank you," he says awkwardly, "but he can keep it. It obviously means more to him then the kids do."

Now Steele is Peak Tilted. The team moves forward again, bypassing Steele and stepping on his collar as they do. Steele stands, chest heaving, for a moment's time before he loudly snaps "no" and drives himself at the team. He shoves cannery dogs out of the way left and right as he plummets towards Balto. Balto notices and comes to a stop beside a coal shoot. The team warns him to LOOK OUT BRUH and Steele flies at him, mouth agape and ready to bite. Just as Steele is about to land on Balto, Balto rolls over, sending Steele tripping over him in the process.

The coal shoot's hatch opens as Steele lands against the lever behind it. Steele tries to claw his way up out of the slowly opening hatch as the other dogs watch horrified. Balto tries to reach out to him, but it's too late. A load of coal drops down from another hatch above the ground. Hundreds of hunks from hell hit the hedonistic Steele as his grip slips. He screams as he falls down the shaft below, a 2 ton torrent of coal following right behind him. Eventually all that can be heard is the sound of stray chunks of coal bouncing around in the shaft. The sound fades as both hatches close. Steele is gone.

Wild Joe walks over, gazes at the closed hatch, and gives a low grunt. He laments on how it couldn't have happened to a nicer dog, then turns to Balto. He says that Balto can't stand around all day when he's got medicine to deliver. But first there's something he needs to do. Star was right, Balto does deserve a collar. And to make sure he has one, Wild Joe slips his own golden collar off his neck, effectively stripping naked in public, and puts it on Balto. Balto is awed. Boris comes up behind him and wraps a wing around him, complimenting him on his new look. Joe tells everyone to hurry into town, and so they do. Balto lets up a torrent of howls once more.

The team FINALLY enters town, and already a whole slew of townsfolk have gathered to see what's going on. They can't contain their relief and their joy upon seeing the medicine has honest to God arrived. Balto brings the team to a stop right in front of the hospital, and immediately the doctor and several other people pry open the crate. A wave of people descend upon the dogs of the team, petting and hugging them. Balto is no exception to this, as people he never expected to respect him begin rubbing his ears and stroking his back.

One of those people is Rosie's father. He hesitates for a second before stroking Balto's head, then leans down and wraps his arms around the dog's neck. Balto withdraws for a moment, but then allows himself to be held. When he's satisfied with the amount of wolfdog hugging he's done, the man coaxes Balto into the hospital, where the staff is already going about administering the anti-toxin to the children.

Balto is brought in to meet Rosie. It's been some time since he's seen her, and she's just been given her injection of the medicine. She's still too weak to lift her head, but she smiles at him all the same. She reaches out her hand to stroke his muzzle, and he licks her. "Balto," she cooes half asleep, "I'd've been lost without you."

She gives a sigh and begins to snore gently, and Balto considers this an appropriate time to head outski. As he turns to leave, he sees Jenna in the doorway, her face scrunched tight in a misty-eyed grin.

The two dogs throw themselves into each other, romping in the doorway. Jenna allows herself to weep, and even Balto's eyes get a little wet. Part of her had truly believed she'd never see her closest friend again. As the two pause and settle back down, she goes to git it and plants a kiss (or the dog equivalent of one I guess) on his nose. He returns the gesture and the two lean into one another. They sit in an embrace as the town continues its celebrating.

A year has passed. Balto, Joe's golden collar still adorning his neck, runs across the cannery harbor to the boat he used to live in. Boris can be seen teaching Luk how to sweep the deck with a poorly held together broom. Muk watches in amusement. Balto calls to Boris that it's time and that he and the kids are invited if they'd like to come along. Boris, overjoyed, leaps onto Muk's back and tells the cubs to pretend they're Paul Revere and hurry up. Everyone who lives in the cannery greets Balto as he rushes by.

Balto passes Dixie on the street as everyone hurries along. Dixie's owner is offput by the presence of the polar bear cubs hi hello what the hell, but Dixie nonchalantly asks Balto what all the fuss is about. Balto explains that it's time, and Dixie congratulates him. He continues his trek, and it goes very much like it did when he was competing in the trial race before the Great Race of Mercy took place.

Finally, Balto reaches the hospital's boiler room. Inside huddle a small crowd: Rosie, her parents, Wild Joe (who is looking a little green), Doc, the actual doc, and, of course, Jenna. Jenna's the center of attention, and she's clearly exhausted. But she's not so exhausted that she can't look up at Balto with a smile on her face. Wild Joe grabs the blanket that she's tucked into and pulls it off of her as Balto and his friends gaze over her.

A litter of 6 puppies whimper out complaints as they reorganize themselves against their mother's warm belly. They're sickeningly precious, squeaking and huddling together. Most of the little ones are varying shades of red like their mother, but the smallest newborn looks remarkably like her father. She lifts her tiny, trembling head and lets out quite possibly the smallest howl any living thing has ever uttered. Everyone chuckles, and Balto leans his head into Jenna's cheek. Their faces are awash with pride.

So there you have it, Balto But Not Balto But Still Balto. Happy 24th year of existing, you trashfire of a movie you. I genuinely love this movie more then I should, and this has been fun to work on. Later this month I'll dump some more Balto stuff here, but it's just about time for me to start a new project for this blog. Hope yous guys enjoyed the wolfdoggy content. Cheers.

[morganaspendragonss]

Bad things happen prompt pretty please. Self harm with Tarlos. T.K. hurting himself and Carlos finding out?

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Self-Harm ~ ao3

Fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star

tw references to self-harm, references to past drug use

Please keep sending me prompts! If you have requested one, know that I am working on it and hope to have them published very soon!

It starts small, as these things tend to. So small, in fact, that Carlos doesn’t even notice at first, though he’ll hate himself for it later.

It’s not his fault, he knows this. It’s not on him to watch out for stuff like this; more to the point, how can he, when they barely see each other outside of work anyway? He still feels guilty though, but for what, exactly, he doesn’t know.

Guilty for not noticing, yes. But also, guilty for making T.K. feel like he can’t talk to him, though Carlos isn’t sure that’s on him, either. They’re in a weird place now, a sort of grey area between friends and...something else, too flirty for it to be nothing, but too distant for it to be something. It’s like, one moment they’re dancing far too close to be normal even in a crowded club, arms wrapped around each other, lips not quite brushing; the next, they don’t talk for three days, the most contact they have a brief nod when they happen to be at the same scene.

It’s confusing, and frustrating, and Carlos sometimes wishes he could just forget about T.K. altogether. At the very least, some clarity would be nice.

Point is, he shouldn’t be responsible for keeping tabs on T.K.’s wellbeing, and he shouldn’t be worrying over him so much, especially when T.K. has made it perfectly clear that it’s the last thing he wants. 

But.

Carlos hasn’t so much as seen T.K. all week, not even in passing. It doesn’t help that he’s been on precious few calls with the 126, but he’s also not received a reply to his text from three nights ago, asking if he wanted to hang out on Friday.

It’s Friday now, and there’s no sign of T.K. at the bar, even though the rest of his team are here. Carlos has half a mind to ask Michelle about him, or maybe even Captain Strand, but the Captain is far too smart not to realise why Carlos is asking about his son, and he’s standing too close to Michelle to make asking her an option.

So he tries to put T.K. from his mind, but it’s not easy, especially with the way Paul is looking at him from across the room. He doesn’t know the other guy all that well; he came out with them last week, but other than that Carlos has only seen him at scenes. 

Which, to be fair, is about as often as he sees T.K. It’s different, though.

Eventually, Paul comes up to him, asking if they can talk outside. That sets off all of Carlos’s alarm bells; they only have one thing in common, and that’s T.K. He follows him out the back, to the benches where everyone goes to smoke, though fortunately they’re empty tonight.

Paul gets straight to it. “You and T.K. are...close, right?”

“We’re friends,” Carlos tells him, though it feels like a lie under the weight of Paul’s gaze.

“He tell you that?” Paul asks, quirking an eyebrow. “‘Cause, man, that’s not what I’m seeing. From either of you.”

“Oh.” And Carlos tries to ignore the flare of...something in his chest at Paul’s words. Hope, maybe, though that’s a dangerous thing where they’re concerned. 

Paul hums and shakes his head. “Anyway, I was only asking ‘cause I was wondering if you’ve seen him lately.”

“Barely,” he says, worry bleeding into his tone. “Not at all this week. Why?”

“It’s just…” Paul shakes his head. “He’s not acting right. Distant. Reckless. And - I know” - he holds a finger up - “that’s just how T.K. is. Trust me. Something’s up, but you know how he is. He won’t talk to us. I mean, I barely know the guy and I’ve been working with him for months now.”

Carlos hums in agreement. Paul’s right; that’s exactly how T.K. is, and it suddenly strikes him again how little they really know each other. How he had to find out almost everything he knows from a goddamn police report. How he shouldn’t be feeling this way for someone who refuses to let himself be cared for. 

Someone who refuses to take care of himself, above all else, and Carlos is sickened by the memory of the night of the bar fight. He’d seen the guys T.K. had provoked; fit as he may be, T.K. must have known he couldn’t have fought them off.

He sighs, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s worried, he won’t deny that, and he can’t just do nothing. His own feelings aside, Paul clearly told him for a reason. 

“Do you know where he lives?” This is a phenomenally bad idea, and even Paul looks taken aback by the question, but it’s the only thing Carlos can think of besides more texts. 

“Sure, but… Are you sure man?” Paul asks. “I can go, if...”

Carlos waves him off. “I was leaving soon anyway.” Not quite the truth, but Paul doesn’t need to know that.

“Alright.” Paul scribbles the address down on a stray napkin and throws Carlos a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

*

It’s not until Carlos is stood outside the Strand residence, poised to knock, that he actually realises just how stupid this is. T.K. probably doesn’t even want to see him, if the texts - or lack thereof - are any indication. Besides, he doesn’t even know if anyone’s in. He should probably just leave, except, well, he promised Paul. 

Before he can make up his mind, the door swings open, taking him by surprise. T.K. is stood there, an equal mix of confusion and annoyance on his face. 

“Hey,” Carlos tries. T.K. just stares at him, before eventually sighing and shifting to the side.

“Come in, I guess.”

And that surprises him. Not that he’d really expected anything, but he’d kind of assumed that T.K. would prefer to talk on the doorstep, if he wanted to talk at all. Carlos had put his odds of getting more than two words out of T.K. about his well being somewhere around zero.

He tries to disguise his curiosity as he enters, but he can’t stop himself from staring. The place is nice, certainly nicer than Carlos’s own - though he supposes that this is what a captain’s salary looks like. Or what happens when there’s multiple paychecks under one roof.

T.K. slips past him and Carlos follows him through to the front room, where they stand, facing each other awkwardly. 

“Um.” T.K. swallows. “You can, you know. Have a seat. If you want.”

Carlos moves to the couch, only to stop short when T.K. remains in place, watching him like a cornered animal. 

“I can leave if you want,” he offers.

T.K. swallows again, then shakes his head, finally moving to sit. “No, it’s okay.”

“Okay.” Carlos sits at the same time T.K. does - a compromise, of sorts. An uncomfortable silence falls across them, and Carlos berates himself for not coming here with some sort of plan. Despite the progress they’ve made recently, he’s still treading on eggshells around T.K., never sure how he’s supposed to act around him - how they’re supposed to act around each other. 

“Paul gave me your address,” he starts. T.K. looks at him sharply, confusion written all over his face - though what he’d assumed before, Carlos doesn’t know. Maybe that he’d stolen his address from the police report, and the thought disturbs him.

“Why?” T.K. asks, though it’s more like a demand. He has to tread carefully here, then.

“He’s worried about you.” Carlos decides to leave out his own feelings on the matter; he has a suspicion that T.K. will clam up if he so much as hints at his concern.

“Well, you can tell him that I’m fine.”

Carlos waits, but T.K.’s apparently done talking. He sighs. “You do realise I’ll need a little more to be convinced about that.”

“Of course you do, Officer,” T.K. says, pouting, but there’s no hint of a flirtation. He’s angry, Carlos realises. Hurting. He watches patiently as T.K. fiddles with the sleeves of his hoodie, shoving them up to his elbows only immediately to pull them back down.

“I -” Carlos stops, his eyes fixed on T.K.’s arm. His sleeves are pushed up, exposing scar tissue littering his skin, some from years ago, some very obviously recent.

Before he can think of anything to say, T.K. shoves his sleeve back down and stands up, hands bunched into fists at his side.

“You should go,” he says, but Carlos shakes his head, staying on the couch.

“T.K. -”

“Please leave.”

“I can’t do that, T.K.”

T.K. glares at him. “God, you’re such a fucking police officer, aren’t you?” he spits. “Back off!”

Carlos doesn’t say anything; he knows he’ll only make it worse if he does. He has had to do this sort of thing as part of his job and, even if this situation is entirely different, the principles are still the same. After a while, all the fights seems to leave T.K., and he slumps back down on the couch, studiously avoiding Carlos’s gaze.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles, looking so small as he hunches in on himself. 

Carlos purses his lips. For all his training, he doesn’t have a fucking clue where to go from here. The last thing he wants is to push T.K. away further, but he can’t just let this lie. 

“Okay,” he says eventually. “But, T.K., even if you don’t want to talk to me, you have to talk to someone. Your dad, or a therapist, or -”

“I do,” T.K. cuts in, shooting him a harsh glance. Then, looking away, “I do. It’s just - hard, you know? To ignore all the…” He taps a finger to his head. “You know.”

Carlos stays silent. In truth, he kind of doesn’t know; he’s been lucky in that regard. But he understands what T.K. means, and his traitorous heart breaks a little bit more for him. 

“And, you were right,” T.K. continues. “The night of the bar fight. It was dumb to go there. But, I just. I just need to feel, you know? Anything. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

Carlos takes a breath, but T.K. interrupts before he can say anyway. “And it helps. With the - With the cravings, when I want to, um, relapse. Again.”

There’s a pause, and Carlos waits, but T.K.’s done this time, closing his eyes and curling his body as far away from Carlos as he can, as though bracing for an attack. The sight hurts, a little, though Carlos isn’t sure exactly why.

“Look, I…” He sighs. “This isn’t okay, T.K. And it’s not like I want you to start more bar fights, or any other...alternative, but you can’t keep going like this. I want to help you, T.K., but you have to let me.”

It takes a seemingly Herculean effort for T.K. to shift his gaze over to Carlos, only for it to dart away immediately, refocusing on the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, almost too quiet for Carlos to hear. “I shouldn’t - This isn’t - You don’t have to be here.”

“I want to be,” Carlos says, and T.K. does look at him then. His eyes are surprised, and more than a little wary, but there’s something else there, too, something softer - and, oh fuck, Carlos has to stop this right now.

“T.K. -”

He’s interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into a driveway. It’s not T.K.’s house’s, but it’s enough to break the moment, T.K. practically jumping out of his skin in an effort to put more distance between them. Carlos breathes out a sigh of relief; much as he likes being near T.K., this is not the time to be trying to...further their relationship. 

“My dad’ll be back soon,” T.K. says, going back to avoiding Carlos’s gaze. “You should probably go.”

It stings a little, that T.K. apparently doesn’t want Captain Strand to know that they even know each other outside of work - not even as friends. But Carlos gets it, he thinks. He stands, but doesn’t move away.

T.K. smiles, sort of. “I’m seeing my therapist tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll talk to her about...you know. And I’ll try, I promise. To stop.”

Carlos nods, attempting to smile back. “That’s good. And, T.K. - I am your friend. I want to help you. And so does your team.”

Carlos doesn’t miss the way T.K. stiffens at his words, but he decides to let that one slide. One step at a time.

“Thanks for coming.” 

And just like that, the earlier awkwardness is back. Carlos grimaces, but nods. “Yeah. No worries,” he says, wincing internally. “I’ll see you soon.”

He lets himself out, taking a moment to stand outside the house and breathe. He feels so goddamn helpless, and it’s getting harder to keep the guilt at bay, even though he knows there’s no reason for it. He wants to help T.K., he truly does, but he doesn’t know how. Not now, not when T.K. seems so determined to keep him at arm’s length. 

He spares one last glance back at the house as he drives away, unable to shake the feeling that he’s making a mistake.

[ashsblurbs]

Running with the Devil

Kat too in a deep breath as she stepped onto the elevator. This was going to be her first team meeting as the Black Widow. Her life had changed so much in the last year. Went from being a normal twenty-something woman trying to figure out where she belongs into the world. Then her life was rocked when the truth about her family came to light. Kat knew what she had to do then, and she began to train. Now she would dawn the red hourglass that was her mothers. The door started to close but was stopped by a hand. The door opened up to reveal the last person she wanted to see, James. He gave her a little smirk and slinked into the elevator.

“Hello, darling, are you ready for your first team meeting.” Kat rolled her eyes. Why did he have to be such a prick sometimes? She looked over at him and he was staring blankly at the wall. His back was perfectly straight like the soldier he was. The shield engulfed both of his shoulders since he was much slimmer than his dad. She trailed her eyes down to see his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. The veins in his arms snaked up to the end of the fabric leaving her memorized. She wondered what it would be like.

“Kat.” James snapped his fingers in front of her face pulling her out of her trace. “This is stopped. You are going to miss the meeting if you don’t get off.” She collected her composure and followed behind him.

The hallways were long in the compound with many different doors and secret passageways. Unlike all her friends Kat didn’t grow up getting into trouble by sneaking into the wrong room because they were playing hide and seek. She looked around taking in the sights and memories that scattered the walls as they walked. On the left was Steve Roger’s shield. On the right was a photograph of the original six Avengers. Kat stopped looking at the photograph and smiled. Steve and Tony standing next to each other with Tony placing bunny ears over his head. They were so in love even if they didn’t know it yet. Then next to them was Thor holding her mother in a bridal style. She was flicking off the camera with a big grin on her face. Clint and Bruce were next. Clint was trying to jump onto Bruce’s back, was failing miserably. She placed a finger over Clint missing him every day.

Kat’s Uncle Clint had died after a mission had gone sour well what she was told was that he died in a car accident. She remembers she was only eight standing next to her Pops as her mother fell to her knees at the only man, she called brother, casket. She had never seen her mom be as broken as she was that day. Natasha was strong and didn’t break easily but even Bucky couldn’t comfort her.

“Yeah, I miss him too, but we need to go. Sam doesn’t like it when people are late.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t move. This was the first time she was able to see how her family really was. The heroes they were.

“Few more minutes.” She whispered turning to look at him. “Please.” He nodded staying right beside her. Their hands glazed against one another. They both felt it but refused to acknowledge it.

“You’re late. I’m ashamed of both of you especially you James.” James dropped his head and apologize.

“It won’t happen again, but Sam where is everyone else. I thought this was a team meeting.” He gestured for them to sit down and pulled files that surrounded them. Kat looked around not understanding much that was on them, but she did understand one symbol and that symbol was Hydra. She reached out and pulled the file down closer.

“Sam, are we going to fight Hydra.”

“Yes, you two are going on a mission together to retrieve classified information that Hydra has.” James jumped up and slammed a fist against the table. His nostrils flared with anger.

“No, that would be a suicide mission. I’m not going in there with Kat. She is untrained and barely knows what she is doing. She’s going to get herself killed.” Kat glared at him out of disbelief.

“Well, I don’t want to go on a mission with you either Mr. America.”

“It’s Captain America.” He shot back.

“Whatever, last time I check the last mission you went on was a complete failure. Also, you are new to this hero thing too.” She huffed.

“Last time I check I grew up with this. I have been training since I was fourteen. I have been on tons of missions for two years of my life.” He got closer to her. They were nosed to nose at this point. He was about a foot taller than her, but she could hold her own. Kat wasn’t about to back down.

“James, you must forget that I was raised by the best assassins in the world. I may not have been raised in the superhero world but I was raised to be strong. Also, I have a black belt in karate.” She grabbed his right arm spinning him around and pinning him down to the table. She kicked his legs out and moved a knee to sit right onto the family jewels. She leaned down close to his ear. She could feel the shock wither through his body. “So, I can kick your ass if I want to. Don’t underestimate me, again.” James didn’t know to be angry or impressed. Well, he was a little angry this woman he knew to be nothing but miss stuck up wannabe had potential. She might be even better than him, but he would never admit it.

“Okay, that’s enough. You leave in twenty minutes. Go pack whatever you will need and be ready at the helipad.”

“So, have you heard from Arne lately.” Kat paused and looked at James with a glare.

“No, why you ask?” Which was the truth? Neither one of them had tried to speak to each other after she got on the plane. No phone calls. No texts. It was best like this she thought. Arne wanted a way out of his father’s shadow, and she wanted to step right into her mother’s. Kat couldn’t drag him into this.

“I haven’t heard from him since you came back home.” Kat softens her look. What did he mean he hasn’t spoken to Arne in over a year? They were best friends. “What are you talking about?” James shrugged his shoulders.

“I texted him the night before you came home. Then after that nothing. What happened while you were in California?” Everything happened. She was her happiest there. Every night when she closed her eyes, she can see him twirling her around on the beach. Their laugher was so loud that it put them in their own little world. He would pull her close and gently kiss her.

“You love him, don’t you?” She opened her eyes and touched her cheek not realizing that a tear had slipped away. Kat looked at James and she never seen the way he was looking at her before. He was good having many masks but this time they were all gone. He looked heartbroken like someone had just killed his dog.

“No, and why would you care? Jealous or something.” At that question, the mask was back.

“Or something.” Yeah, never had the guts to tell you. James adjusted his belt and walked head of her stopping at a door. It said supply closet, but he knew better.

“Forget it, we have a mission to complete.”

Kat rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to worry about James’ feelings too much. He had his chance along time ago but he’s a coward no matter how much he put up a stern front. In the room was a row of computers each one-off except one at the very end. Kat ran ahead of him even though he tried stopping her. This was easy, plug in the USB drive and get out.

“Stop, this seems way to easy. This could be a trap, Kat.” She waved him off and got down to business. Right, when she plugged the drive in an alarm went off.

“Shit!”

“I told you. Let’s go.” James tried pulling her out of the room, but she wouldn’t budge. This was her first mission and she was going to complete it. The screen said that it was halfway done, they could actually pull this off.

“Mr. America, go guard the door and I will finish this.” James glared at her not liking this plan one bit. Then she looked up at him with her pleading blue eyes and he agreed. Damn this girl was going to get herself killed. He went and stood by the door waiting for someone to come. This alarm went off over a half-hour ago and not one goon had come yet. Something wasn’t right. He banged on the door. “Hurry up we need to go now.” Kat swung the door open. She gave him a cheeky smile and dangled the drive in front of his nose.

“What are you waiting for we got to go.” She rushed down the hall while he just looked at her perplexed. Scratched what he said early. She is going to get him killed. Kat ran and ran looking for an exit but no such luck. Everything was either a dead end or locked down. James was right something weird was going on. Someone by now had to try to stop them. Then she halted. Kat couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was her sister, Anastasia. Her eyes were ghost-like staring into Kat’s soul. There was no recognition.

“Ana, it’s me, Katrina.” She didn’t move just kept staring forward. Kat started to move forward but she felt a hand on her shoulder stopping her.

“Kat, that’s not her. We have to be careful.” She jerked him away. He didn’t understand that was her baby sister. She basically helped raise her. All the bedtime stories flashed before her eyes. Holding Ana when she was scared of thunderstorms or if there was a monster in the closet.

“Ana, look at me. I’m your sister. It’s your Катрина.” Kat stepped closer and was only a few feet from her. If she wanted to, she could outstretch her arms and hug her. She stepped closer and then Ana pulled a gun out, still didn’t say anything. All of the doors around them opened up to revealed Hydra agents. There were probably at least thirty of them but all she cared about was her sister.

“Kat get close to me. There’s too many so we need a plan.” She looked over at him with determination in her eyes. Then back at the spot, her sister was, and Ana was gone. Kat ran straight to the first door that was available.

James watched as Kat ran out of the room. Fuck, they were going to die. He made his way over to the door she slipped out of but was stopped by agents. Well, let’s see if this training worked. He through his shield knocking some of them down but they still didn’t stop.

Kat ran and ran. She had to find Ana. She had to. Then luck prevailed.

“Put the gun down.”

“No! I have a mission to complete. “Ana fired but the bullet missed.

“Ana, listen to me. We can take you home. You can come home.” She fired again but missed her.

“I don’t know you and that’s not my name. This is my home!” She shouted. She rubbed both hands to her face like she was trying to fight the noise that was in her head. Kat could see a flicker in her eyes. A flicker of realization. Then it was gone.

“Your name is Anastasia Maria Barnes. You are my sister. Your favorite color is purple, and you hate pineapple on your pizza. You still believe in Santa Clause. “Ana fired a shot again. It was blocked by James’s shield. Kat turned around for the first time she was glad to see James. He through the shield once again knocking Ana down. Kat ran to her and pulled her into her arms.

“Kat, back away. That’s not Ana. She will kill you.”

“She’s my sister,” Kat yelled. A second later a shot went off that rang in James’ ears. The world stood still; his world stood still.

“Noooooo!” James fell to his knees as he watched Kat fall. Blood soaking around her. She tilted her head to look at him. Begging him to save her and then eyes closed. Ana ran off too scared to understand what she had just done. James ran to Kat and pulled her close to his chest.

“No, stay with me. You can’t die like this.” He pulled his jacket off and pressed it to the wound. He had to stop the bleeding. She couldn’t die. He was supposed to protect her. He promised to protect Kat.

“Help!” James rushed in with Kat slumped in his arms. She was barely breathing and losing a lot of blood. One of the doctors that were supplied for the compound rushed trying to take her out of his arms, but he wouldn’t let go. James needed to know that Kat was going to be okay. He couldn’t live with himself if she died and worst because he wasn’t able to protect her. James pulled her in closer as the doctor showed him where to put her down. James laid her down gently and the doctors pushed him out of the way causing him to leave the room. The doctor locked the door. All James could do was watch as they tried to save her.

James slid down the wall and sat feeling a wave of tiredness rush over him. He looked down at his uniform not being able to tell the difference between his blood and Kat’s blood. He checked himself looking for wounds himself but only found some bruises and cuts. He laid his head on the door frame closing his eyes but all he could see was the bullet piercing into Kat’s chest and the pleading in her eyes to save her. A single tear slipped away, and his strong front was gone.

“Where is she? Where is my daughter?” The door to the emergency part of the hall slammed open to reveal Bucky raging with anger. James jolted awake and looked up at the sight of the man he called family. A wave of cold washed over him. Bucky looked like he was the winter solider again which sent fear through James. Bucky looked around wildly until he laid his eyes on James. He went over and hauled James up by the neck of his suit to his feet. James’s heart quicken. There was a pit in his stomach fearing that his Uncle would blame him.

“Where’s Katrina?” Bucky didn’t move from his position just waited for an answer.

“She’s in there. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried to protect her.” James calm composure slipped away and his voice broke. Bucky pulled him in tight. Both men shaking as they cried.

“I know you did son. I know you did.” Bucky pulled back and clapped a hand over his nephew’s shoulder. He examined him and saw all of the blood. He saw the bruises and shadows that had form under his eyes. This boy was holding so much in. There was a lot of pain behind his eyes. The kind of pain he saw in Steve’s own eyes. The pain that none of them wanted their children to adore.

Several hours had passed, the doctor came out to tell them what was happening, and it was nothing good. Bucky went into the room, James tried to come with, but Bucky insisted that he would go in first. Bucky needed to go in first. James understood but that didn’t mean it wasn’t driving him crazy not to see Kat. Kat.

Bucky walked into the room and saw his daughter was breathing but asleep. The doctor’s said she wouldn’t be awake for several hours since she lost so much blood. Kat looked so small with her long auburn hair floating around her. Bucky pulled up a chair and picked up her cold hand.

“Hey, baby girl, what did you get yourself into? Gave me and your mom a real scare. She’s out trying to find the bastard that did this to you.” If he only knew the truth. “You have to wake up okay. We can’t lose you too.” He sniffed trying not to cry again. He had to be strong, for his family. Then he heard a knock on the door. He looked up and saw James once again. There was something going on between James and Kat but that was none of Bucky’s business. He could tell by the way James’s eyes darted to Kat as he spoke to Bucky. Never leaving the spot.

“I’m sorry. Pops is here and he wants to talk to you.” Bucky stood up, placing a kiss to the top of Kat’s head, and left. James came to replace him sitting in the same chair. His heart broke seeing her so still.

“I really wish you were cursing me out right now like you always are. Telling me what a jerk I am. That you were fine and that a bullet wound was just a scratch.” He chuckled but then paused as he watched her chest rise and fall without a sign of her waking up. “I’m sorry Kat. I didn’t want you to get hurt because I.” He stopped not wanting to finish that sentence. He stood up and left the room leaving her to her peace.

“Steve, stop. You are telling me that my daughter, my tiny dancer, did this to my other daughter. I knew they were going on a mission, but I didn’t know it was Hydra. Someone should have told me it was hydra!” Bucky’s voice raised with each word. This is why Natasha and him decided to get out of the game. To hang up their knives and guns for playdates and recitals.

“Hey, I didn’t know myself. I haven’t been in the complete loop for a long time. Bruce just told me because my son might have been hurt.” Bucky pushed his hair out of his face. His hair was now much longer then what he normally kept it. It reminded him too much of the winter solider days but now it was a little greyer.

“I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to handle. We didn’t choose the life we had. Then we both tried to make sure that our children didn’t have to deal with the pain and death. No amount of protection could because Hydra will always find me and hurt the people I care about. Anastasia is brainwashed and Katrina won’t wake up. She almost died. I’m going after them, Steve. I’m going to get them son of a bitches.” Bucky began to walk away without another word. Steve grabbed hold of Bucky’s arm making him stop in his track. He grimaced by the touch. He panned his eyes up at Steve’s seeing the pleading look in his best friend’s eyes. Bucky relaxed a little.

“You aren’t going out there alone.” Bucky shook his head.

“I can’t ask you to do this. You hung up the shield for a good reason and I can’t bring you back in.” Steve nodded.

“Yes, you can because they hurt my family too. James was there, and your daughters are my nieces. Now suit up.”

James stood in the training room not knowing what to do. These Hydra goons needed to die. They needed to pay but he needed help. He pulled out his phone and called the one person he knew would help him. He just didn’t know if that person would pick up.

Arne looked at the clock and it read three am. Who the hell would be calling him this late at night? He rolled over and picked up the phone and answered it. He didn’t even bother to read the caller ID.

“Kat’s been shot. You need to come here now.” Arne dropped the phone. His chest burned. No matter how many girls he slept with they weren’t Kat. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He wasn’t there to protect her. He never told her how much he loved her, and she could be dead. Arne picked up the phone once again with rage boiling his blood.

“Who did this?”

“Hydra. I need your help to take them down.” Arne opened the wooden chest at the foot of his bed and pulled out Dainsleif. It was powerful and he promised not to use it. Once it was taken out of it scabbard it must kill a man and where he was going, he hoped he was going to kill many.

“I will be there by sun-up.”

[afsaneh-jaan]

What if the MC got hurt during and assassination attempt? Like if they were asleep with Nadia and they heard an assassin come in and they stopped the attempt before Nadia could react?

[imma combine these two, because they are quite similar]

🗡 Nadia Assassination Attempt 🗡

(with my apprentice Afsaneh, because I’ve imagined her in this exact situation dozens of times before. yes, I’m that kind of person.)

shoutout to @countessatrinava for giving me inspiration and also being responsible for making this way longer than i had originally planned. :*

~~~

Afsaneh wakes to the whispering of curtains in the wind. She frowns, pulling the cover tighter around herself, shivering as a chill breeze ghosts over her skin. Why would they have left the window open? She rolls around to face the balcony doors, they sky still dark beyond the open wings. She grumbles something low and incoherent in her throat, about to get up and close them, but here eyes are already falling shut again, sleep weighing heavy on her.

She drifts off, the gentle rustling of the curtains guiding her on into sleep… When suddenly, her eyes snap open. What was that…? She stays perfectly still, ears straining. There. Almost too quiet to make it out against the background of nighttime sounds. A footstep.

The hairs raise on the back of Afsaneh’s neck, her spine tingles. Is she imagining things? …No. There it is again.

Not daring to move, Afsaneh strains her eyes and scans the shadows. There is someone else in the room, someone besides her and Nadia, she is certain of it. She can feel their presence.

Something flickers at the edge of her sight and she swears she sees the shadows move.

Her chest tightens as a sense of foreboding creeps over her. This isn’t right. Why is the window open? Did… did someone climb in through the window?

Bit by bit, Afsaneh wrangles her sluggish thoughts out of the numbing grasp of sleep.

Who would climb in through the window at this time of night? What–?

She stiffens as her attention is caught by a soft shuffle. It sounds from further into the room now. Barely daring to breathe, she inches her head around, staring intently into the darkness.

Beside her, Nadia is still sleeping peacefully, breath slow and steady. Beyond her, Afsaneh can just hear the soft scratch of cloth on cloth over the hammering of her own pulse. There was someone there, no doubt about it.

Suddenly, she hears a soft scraping sound… and moments later the shadows seem to manifest as a looming shape nears the bed, nears Nadia’s sleeping form. The glint of metal catches a beam of moonlight and Afsaneh’s blood runs cold.

No.

“No–!”

Afsaneh’s cry startles the other person and she used that opportunity to fling a blast of magic them. They stumble back and Afsaneh follows moments later, launching herself over Nadia and tackling the attacker to the ground.

They give a low grunt and struggle against her with surprising strength. Afsaneh grits her teeth, shaking as adrenaline pumps through her body. She tries for a punch, but she misses in the dark. All too soon she finds herself pressed against the floor by the weight of the attacker.

“Oof.”

“Afsaneh…?”

Nadia’s sleepy voice snaps her to attention. And the attacker too, apparently. She feels their weight lift off of her, catches another glint of metal, of the dagger.

No!

Snarling, she scrambles to her feet and throws her full weight against the attacker, pushing them against a wall. She claws at their face, nails digging into soft flesh and the attacker yelps in pain. Furious, she funnels magic into her palms, feels them grow unbearably hot against the attackers skin. No one dare hurt Nadia!

They yell and shove her away from them with a punch to the gut before turning tail and running towards the balcony. Afsaneh stumbles to her knees, but launches another blast of magic after them. She misses, the shot flying just past the attacker’s head as they vault over the balcony railing and vanish into the night.

Panting, Afsaneh drops on all fours. Her pulse hammers in her head and she doesn’t hear Nadia approaching until she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Afsaneh! What happened? Are you all right?!”

The lights are one now, Nadia must have lit a lamp. Her worried face comes into view, her hands holding Afsaneh’s face.

“I’m okay… I’m okay…” Afsaneh says between heavy breaths. “But you should call the guards. That was an assassin if I ever saw one.”

Afsaneh leans back, ready to stand up. But instead, she flinches and sucks a sharp gasp through her teeth as pain suddenly flares out from her midsection.

“Afsaneh!”

Nadia’s arms catch her as she slumps sideways. Afsaneh grasps at her side, but that only makes it hurt more. When she pulls her hand back it’s slick and red with blood and suddenly the room seems to spin around her.

“Oh.”

The pain is blazing. White hot. Afsaneh gasps and she feels her breath quicken as panic settles into her. She’s been stabbed.

She looks up to meet Nadia’s gaze and sees the same mix of horror and fear she feels, reflected back at her. Tears prick in her eyes.

“Nadi…”

“Shh, shh, it’s all right.”

Nadia’s voice is steady, but only just. Her face is tight with worry. She eases Afsaneh down onto the floor and rushes towards the door, calling out for a doctor into the hallway. Then she hurries back to Afsaneh’s side, grabbing some piece of cloth on her way, a robe, which she presses to the wound. Quickly, the thin fabric soaks with blood, staining Nadia’s hands.

“Stay still, you’ll be all right.”

She runs her free hand through Afsaneh’s hair, fingers trembling.

“You’ll be all right.”

She repeats it under her breath, like a mantra, an effort to stay as calm as she can manage. One hand keeps caressing Afsaneh’s hair, her cheek, her forehead. Shaking fingers stroking sweaty skin.

Afsaneh looks up at her, breathing against the pain. It’s unlike anything she has felt before. She tries to focus on Nadia’s touch instead, but it doesn’t work very well. Not when her midriff feels like it’s on fire. She closes her eyes, a soft groan escaping her lips. Her eyes open again when Nadia’s grip on her tightens.

“What were you thinking?”

The exasperation in her tone can’t hide any of the worry behind it. Afsaneh snorts weakly, wincing when it sharpens the pain.

“Not much. It was either you or me. And you were sleeping.”

Nadia frowns, obviously not pleased with the answer. But in all fairness, Afsaneh isn’t sure there is any answer she can give right now that would please her. Afsaneh reaches out with her hand, biting down a pained gasp as the motion pulls at her side. Nevertheless, she cups Nadia’s cheek in her trembling, clammy hand.

“I’ll be fine.”

Nadia gazes down at her intensely, a storm of emotions behind her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something when the door is pushed open and a team of palace doctors rush into the door.

They move quickly, one of them kneeling down beside Afsaneh as the other ushers Nadia out of the door despite her protest.

“Please, You Excellency, if you could just wait outsi–”

“But I can’t leave her now!”

She attempts to push past the man and is stopped by a gentle but firm hand to her shoulder. She turns a hard stare on the doctor and he swallows visibly under the force of it.

“W-we promise, we will take the best of care. But we require some privacy.”

Before Nadia can answer, Portia appears at her side. She puts a hand on Nadia’s elbow, giving a gentle smile.

“Come, M’lady. I’m sure the doctors will be glad not to have you breathing down their necks.”

Nadia shoots her a sharp gaze and Portia reddens slightly, but stands her ground, waiting until Nadia relents with a sigh. She lets herself be guided away, eyes lingering on her bedroom door.

Portia leads her to an adjacent sitting room and Nadia collapses onto one of the seats, her face in her hands. Worry gnaws at her, winding a tight coil around her chest. She keeps seeing Afsaneh before her, hair tussled, skin paling, a pool of red growing slowly beneath her. She swallows hard against the fear that rises within her. She’ll be alright.

And yet. What if.

Her stomach twists with a sickening feeling of dread. How could she have ever let this happen? Where were the guards when she needed them, for goodness sake! An assassin! How could they have let an assassin onto the palace grounds, into the palace!

But she supposes that was on her for not stationing the guards well enough. Or for under-staffing. Or not providing them with enough training. Or not locking the window. Or not hearing the intruder. Or not waking up in time. Or not fighting the assassin herself. Or–

Nadia gasps. The worry, the blame. She feels like it’s choking her.

“M’lady…”

Portia’s hand is on her arm. A warm, anchoring pressure.

“She’ll be all right. We have the best doctors. And besides, a stab wound like that won’t just do you in. Ilya said so once.”

Why Julian was talking to his sister about stab wounds is beyond Nadia, not to mention the fact that she isn’t sure the doctor’s facts are quite accurate, but she appreciates Portia’s efforts at reassurance.

“Thank you, Portia.”

Her voice is soft and a little hoarse. She clears her throat and sits up straighter, clasping her hands tightly together.

The wait seems endless. Portia’s attempts at conversation soon secede and they are left in silence. Nadia worries her lips between her teeth, the hem of her robe between her fingers. Her gaze is fixed somewhere into the distance, unseeing. The image of bloodied Afsaneh unwilling to leave her mind. Absentmindedly, she rubs at the red stains on her own hands.

Finally, the door to the room creaks open and a servant informs them that the Countess is welcome to return to her room now. Nadia jerks to her feet, posture stiff, and rushes past the servant before they can say another word.

*

Through heavy eyelids, Afsaneh watches the doctors pack up their utensils. They have given her something and now the world seems a little fuzzy. She doesn’t mind, the bed is soft beneath her and the pain in her side has dulled. A quite welcome sensation. She leans deeper into the pillows and closes her eyes.

She hears the door open and urgent steps approaching the bed. When she opens her eyes again, Nadia is looking down at her, her expression a mix of worry and relief.

“You’re all right.” A confirmation to herself. 

Her fingers graze Afsaneh’s cheek, then run gingerly along the white bandage that is wrapped around her middle.

“Mhm. All good.”

The words feel thick and awkward in her mouth. But Nadia’s hands on her arms, her face, in her hair, they feel good. She sighs softly and leans into the touch.

“How could you put yourself in danger like that?”

Afsaneh frowns. What sort of question was that? The answer was obvious.

“For you.”

She blinks up at Nadia and sees tears glistening in her eyes. Her heart clenches.

“Oh, no no, don’t cry.”

She raises her hand to Nadia’s face, brushing a stray tear away with her thumb.

“I’m all right. I’ll be good as new.” She crooks her lips into a small smile. “Plus, I’ll have a cool battle scar now.”

Nadia’s breath hitches in her throat. A laugh, a sob, or both.

“You reckless fool.” It would be reprimanding if there wasn’t a tremble in her voice. She grasps Afsaneh’s hand, holding it tighter against her cheek, turning her head and grazing her lips against the palm.

“Hm, The Fool.” Afsaneh waggles her eyebrows a little, which earns her another sob or laugh. “You’re fool.” That earns her an exasperated huff, though it can’t compete with the worried fondness in Nadia’s eyes.

Afsaneh pulls Nadia closer to her so she ends up with her head resting in the crook of Afsaneh’s neck. Nadia shifts and is soon lying beside her, on arm slung carefully around her. She presses a kiss to Afsaneh’s cheek. Then another. Her fingers trace gently over her chest, her arms, as if confirming that nothing else is out of place, that Afsaneh is still here, with her.

Afsaneh closes her eyes and hums softly. Whatever the doctors gave her is pulling more and more at her consciousness. She feels Nadia’s lips grazing her temple, then her breath against her ear as Nadia whispers.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Hm, no promises.” She struggling to form the words in her mouth now, sleep almost pulling her under completely. Sluggish, she turns her head and kisses Nadia’s hair. “Not when you’re in danger... Not when I can protect you...”

[pilot-boi]

Five Injuries Hidden: Chapter One

A little look into the extents that Jaune would go for his team, his friends, his family. Did he maybe go a little too far at times? Maybe. Is it really necessary for him to get medical attention and actually heal his injuries? Probably. Will he ever stop gladly throwing himself on top of the wire to protect even one of them? Definitely not.

Maybe he should actually let them help him when he goes too far and gets hurt in their stead. But for that to happen, they’d have to know about the hits that he keeps taking for them, which they don’t and never will. And what they don’t know won’t kill them.

But… It might kill him if he isn’t careful.

((I keep forgetting Aura is a thing, so don’t mind me giving him injuries that he shouldn't really be able to get. Set vaguely between V5 and V6.))

Oscar

Jaune’s never had a baby brother before, so he can be forgiven for being just a little bit more protective than he really needs to be, right?

AO3 LINK

It was pouring

Not an innocent little sprinkle either, oh no. It was a torrential downpour.

The water kept getting in his hair and washing it down into his face. Who needs eyesight anyway? That wasn’t necessary, right?

And to think, he had been having such a nice day, too.

A wild shout snapped Jaune out of his thoughts, and he snapped up his sword to block the clumsy swipe of the Ursa’s paw, the resounding clang leaving a faint ringing in his ears. A grin made its way onto the  soaked knight’s face as he batted the offending limb away with his shield and slashed across with his blade to decapitate it.

Whipping his head around, Jaune quickly scanned the impromptu battle field for his friends. His family. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Yang’s joked in the back of his head about counting heads like a teacher on a field trip, but he paid it no mind.

Relief swept through him as he saw that they all had their battles well in hand. Yang and Nora even seemed to be making a game out of it, shouting out the number of kills to each, both trying to one up the other. Their partners were taking it more seriously, but Jaune could see Blake smiling in amusement and hear the laugh tinging Ren’s words.

Ruby and Weiss were dashing around each other, working like a perfectly oiled machine. Glyphs would appear for Ruby to run on, perfectly timed for her to take out a truly obscene amount of Grimm with one strike. As he watched, he even saw Oscar take out a Beowulf singlehanded.

Jaune couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest.

Shaking his sopping wet out of his eyes -in vain, apparently, as it simply slid right back after he swept it away for the millionth time- a movement in the trees caught his eye by complete chance. Red glowing eyes and feathers flickered from branch to branch. 

Whipping his head around, Jaune zeroed in on a hidden Nevermore. It must have been drawn by the strife of the combat. With a screech it launched itself from the trees and reared back its wings to launch its feathers like throwing daggers.

Aiming directly at Oscar. Oscar, who still had trouble remembering to keep his Aura up. His brother. His baby brother.

Everything seemed to slow as his mind’s eye worked out just what he was seeing. He quietly pushed away the rage that bubbled up, and sought the cool planning mindset that had saved him and his friends time and again. Jaune would have time for anger later -because how dare that monster even think of laying a feather on Oscar Pine- because he had more immediate problems.

For one, and most immediately, that he would not be able to warn Oscar in time. No, the stupid bird was already locked and loaded onto Oscar, and by the time he warned him, there could be a feather a foot long skewered through his chest.

So, that brought his options down to only one. One acceptable solution. If that arrow was going to hit anyone, it was going to be him.

As he came to that conclusion, everything rushed back into full motion.

The Nevermore loosed its feathers like a hailstorm.

Oscar heard the noise and turned to see what was flying towards him.

Their friends yelled out in warning. Weiss threw up a wall a moment too late. Ruby jumped into a cloud of petals.

And Jaune slammed Oscar -his little brother, dammit stupid bird would pay for that- out of the way, his momentum carrying them both mostly out of the path of the barrage. Mostly.

Jaune was never so happy to have a soaking wet red sash tied around his middle than at that moment. It hid injuries quite well.

Hiding a grimace of pain as something just short of agony raced across his lower ribs, Jaune quickly checked over Oscar for injuries. His Aura flared up in his hands, liquid light pouring down into any possible imaginary injuries the boy could have. “Are you okay?! It didn’t get you, did it?”

Oscar shook himself out of his shocked stupor, blinking dazedly. “N-no. I’m fine. Thanks Jaune.”

Jaune breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping, before they raised back up rigidly and his shield spiraled back out to cover them both. “Wait, what about the Nevermore?!”

Ren laid a calming hand on Jaune’s shoulder. “Not to worry. Ruby and Weiss are taking care of it. Are you alright, Jaune?”

A sharp sting lanced across his ribs. Couldn’t spare Aura for an injury he didn’t know the extent of. What if he needed to heal someone? “Yeah, sure, I’m fine! Do you think you could check over Oscar to make sure that it really missed him?”

Ren tilted his head to one side in confusion and crouched down beside them both. “I saw you using your Semblance, but it you’re sure-”

“Guys, I’m fine! Not even bruised anymore thanks to you,” Oscar reassured him.

“You got him to the ground before the others even took off after the rest of the Grimm,” Ren reminded Jaune, ignoring the knight’s skeptical expression. “You did well, Jaune.”

“My ‘good enough’ almost wasn’t good enough.” Jaune slumped tiredly, resisting the urge to sling his arm across his torso to cover the angry welt he could feel. “I’m just relieved I saw it in time.”

Oscar punched him lightly in the arm, and then shook out his fingers from punching his metal armor. Jaune didn’t even notice the hit, but he noticed the reprimand. “Come on, stop that. Please! You saved me, you made it. I’m right here, on the ground, safe and sound.”

“Yeah, what he said!” Ruby called as she waded through the semi-dense brush, the tell tale smoke of dead Grimm dripping and seeping off the scythe leaning on her shoulder.

Good. The thing was dead. Jaune tried not to feel so satisfied about that.

Nora bounced out from behind her and slung an arm across Jaune’s shoulders, unknowingly aggravating Jaune’s side. “C’mon fearless leader, cheer up! Everything turned out a-okay. Now, what do ya say we all finish up here and go get something to eat, huh?”

Jaune heartily agreed, and soon they were all back in Mistral proper. Qrow, slung across the couch with one arm covering his eyes, grumbled when their troop stomped inside covered in mud and shouting to each other. 

Excusing himself with the plea of exhaustion, Jaune snagged the first-aid kit from the kitchen and sequestered himself into his and Oscar’s shared room. And with a wince, he finally took in the extent of the damage.

The less said about the torturous removing of his armor and soaked through clothing, the better.

A long, angry red mark was gouged across his side, right under his rib cage, and a dark, grim looking bruise covered from just above the severe laceration all the way down to the top of his hip. 

He stared at it for several long seconds, debating whether to heal it or not. Who knows what they’d be doing over the next couple days. Could he afford to leave it? Or could he afford to siphon off precious Aura to heal himself, when he might need it for the others?

After far too long, he settled on cleaning it out first and figuring it out later.

Biting back the few curse words he knew, mostly from Yang, he quickly balled up the cleanest, least muddy piece of his shirt before biting down on it, effectively blocking any yelps that would be sure to somehow slip past the firm barrier he had paced against them.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, his side protesting fiercely, and gathering up all his courage, Jaune tore open a sterile package and applied the large antiseptic patch found within.

The world whited out.

Suddenly, in some part of his brain that was untouched by overwhelming agony, he was very, very glad that he had taken the precautions to stop anyone from seeing or hearing him. Locking the door behind him had been an afterthought born from years of sibling life, but now he was so very glad that he took the second to do so.

After all, he couldn’t have someone walking in on him feeling like he was dying, now could he?

He used to like rainy days.

Somehow pulling himself back together out of the sheer force of will, he finished cleaning out the gash. He channeled a sliver of Aura into the injury and watched as it stitched himself up into a barely healed slash, still surrounded by bruising. Just enough to stop the bleeding.

Taking a moment to center himself, he spit his shirt out of his mouth and finished up by wrapping a loop of gauze around his middle and over the still extremely tender wound.

Finished. Now he could die in peace. Didn’t they say that death was eternal rest? Yeah. He could go for an eternal nap right about now.

Sadly, that wasn’t in the cards for Jaune at the moment. Briefly mourning the fact that he couldn’t stay seated on his bedroom floor with stray medical supplies strewn about forever, Jaune mentally shook himself off and begrudgingly started cleaning up any evidence of this little escapade. 

His dirty shirt got tossed right into the laundry, along with the bloody soaked and slightly-more-tattered sash. Hopefully nobody would notice the extra holes in the latter.

That done, and knowing that Oscar at the very least would undoubtedly be coming by soon, Jaune quickly pulled a new shirt over his head to hide the remaining evidence, i.e. his injury. 

It was quick for him, but really he walked slowly with shuffling steps, as his side strongly rebelled against the thought of doing anything fast other than sleeping. So he shucked off his soaking wet jeans, tossed them into the pile with his shirt and sash, tugged on a pair of sweatpants, and collapsed painfully into his bed.

No training tonight. Sorry, Pyrrha, but he didn’t think he’d manage to wake up to his alarm no matter how loud he set it. And setting it loud enough to wake the others was a no-go. Jaune felt so exhausted that he doubted even his nightmares would be enough to wake him.

Don’t get him wrong, Jaune didn’t regret what he did. He never would. You could scour his soul for eternity, and you would never find even a slightest shade of remorse for doing what he had done to save Oscar, the little brother he’d never had. 

This result was the optimal one. That’s what he did, he crunched the numbers. And the numbers would always come to this result, without question. Jaune would gladly relive this entire horrible, muddy, rainy day a million times if it meant that Oscar would come out of it uninjured. 

In fact, he would willingly do this for any of his friends, his family, the family he’d found and made and cobbled together. This family that was a little damaged and cracked, but that had dragged him out of the darkest time in his life without a second thought and without asking for anything in return. 

A debt that Jaune could never begin to repay. Not that he’d ever stop trying. He hadn’t been grateful enough when they’d been doing it, so he was doubly grateful for them sticking with it and not giving up on him like he’d so dearly wanted them to.

So he’d do anything for them. Anything at all. With absolutely no hesitation at all. If any of their lives were on the line, there were really no numbers to be crunched. This decision was a no-brainer.

Hands down, no questions asked.